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babygirl-riley · 3 months

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Hii could you do one with ghost seeing his newborn and he came with guest like John, price, gaz for tea and the reader heard her baby start to cry and she goes to breast feed her baby upstairs for privacy and downstairs they all tell ghost how far he’s come in life and how proud they are of him and like they got gifts for the baby. If that’s okay with you!

Tea Time

Ghost brings guests over to meet his newborn baby

A/N: Omg this really warms my heart they would be so happy for him. Especially Price! Like lord watching his masked son have a child of his own 😭 Also sorry about the late story post school has been beating my asssss

Warnings: fluff, talks about baby, pure happiness, husband!simon, dad!simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

It was at first an awkward silence all four of them sitting in a living room. Simon decided to bring his military family over to meet his newborn. Simon wasn’t able to be there when you gave birth. Missed it by two months since the baby was born, due to a mission going sideways. When he called to inform you that he was coming home, you naturally were excited.

While Simon was packing up to get going, Price followed him out. “Once the both of you are settled love to meet the little bugga.”

Simon chuckled. “Of course Cap.”

Simon called you again, it only rung twice before you picked it up. “On your way?” Your voice sounded tired yet perked up at the end.

“Yes ma’am, j’st leavin’,” He paused before clearing his throat. “Price mentioned comin’ and meeting the baby.”

“Okay,” You said calming waiting to see if he would say anything else before softly chuckling. “They coming today?”

Simon tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Didn’ say yes to today, you wantin’ to?”

“I wouldn’t mind, haven’t had company over for a while. Unless you don’t want it?” You said, he could hear the smile in your voice. Both of you didn’t want anyone over at the end of your pregnancy worried about everything and then some. Didn’t want to get you sick in case of something would happen to the baby.

Simon went silent before nodding like you could see him. “I don’t mind.”

Before getting the call ahead for the boys to come, you have Simon time to hold his baby girl. At first he was hesitant looking at the small thing that bundled into the pink blanket. “She won’t break.” You smiled softly, holding a hand to his bicep.

“She is small.” He whispered watching her make faces as she slept.

You lifted your arm and started to guide his, forming his arms to be ready to hold her. You could see the small panic in his eyes as you started to place her. Guiding him how to hold her head. She moved basically looking like she was settling herself into his arms. He went stiff before looking at you as he smiled a bit. “She’s beautiful baby.”

“We did good baby.” You said getting on your tippy toes as he leaned down kissing each other’s lips.

It was a couple of hours before he called Price and the boys to come and meet mini Riley. Without hesitation they all said yes and barreled their way down to the Riley home.

Now here they are, sitting around the living room. Gaz looked around the room noting some pictures of you and him on the wall. Some with his mask some not. Soap tapped his boots on the floor and Price drank the tea you made. Simon waited near the stairs as you started down them. All of them perked up like puppies on a park.

You showed off the baby to the boys. They held her one by one, watching her move around and fall asleep to smiling in her sleep. Price chuckled as she gripped his finger and played with her hand. Gaz held her as everyone talked around about the baby and how many pounds she weighted. Then it was Soap.

“She is beautiful,” Soap said holding her softly, she was laying on his forearms as he held her head with his hands. Soap leaning on his legs as he stared down at her. “Bet she gets it from ya huh lass?”

You chuckled as Simon glared at Soap, you could tell underneath his mask that he was smirking. “Kind of glad she don’ have my nose.” Simon mumbled agreeing with him.

Soap chuckled as he looked back at the baby. That’s when she let out a fuss before she cried. At first Soap was shocked and looked at you and Simon. You looked over at the clock as Simon grabbed her. “Don’t worry Soap you probably just stink,” You joked walking to Simon as you reached for her. “No but I have to go feed her.”

Simon nodded as you turned around. “Want any help?”

“Oh no she has it all handled Si.” You said smirking before winking and left upstairs.

Simon stood there and watched, disappearing. “She is beautiful Simon.” Price said breaking the silence.

Simon shrugged and nodded. “Would never think ya have a family.” Soap said with a teasing tone.

Price glared at him before Gaz chuckled. “Honestly I thought the same.”

Simon looked at both of them. “I didn’t either.”

Price sighed and shook his head. “I knew,” everyone looked at him. “You might seem like a cold hearted lieutenant however you have a kind heart,” Silence roamed through the air, Simon did not expect him to say anything like that. “I’m proud of you son.”

Soap was wide eyed then looked at Simon. “Nah he is right, never seen you so…”

“Don’t push it.” Simon grumbled seeing that glint in his eyes.

Soap put his hands up before looking at him. “For real though sir, you have an amazing family here.”

Gaz shuffled before standing up. “If you need a babysitter pretty sure Lola would love to watch her.”

Simon chuckled before standing up with him. “Have to fight the missus first.”

Gaz chuckled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You really look happy chap, just happy that you are able to find something and someone’s to come home to.”

Simon was shocked all around, he hasn’t heard any of these before from them. At least Soap and Gaz. Price every now and then. He felt proud yet it was odd to feel that way. “Thank you, all of ya.”

Price finished his tea as he stood up and walked to Simon. Gaz heading towards the door, giving a curt nod. Soap followed Gaz and gave a two finger salute. “See ya later sir.” Soap said was he opened the door. “Tell the lasses I said bye!” He hollered out.

“I’ll meet ya in the car yeah?” Price said to Gaz.

Gaz nodded and gave a wave to Simon. “Seriously proud of ya sir.”

Simon stood there for a moment before looking at Price. “You really have come a long way Simon. Ever since you met her it’s like you became lighter.”

Simon looked away towards the upstairs. “Like Gaz said John she is my home to come to.“

“I know she is, just proud of you for where ya at,” Price said as he sighed. “You were so lost Simon until you married her. She changed you for the better and you let yourself do that as well. I just wanted to tell you that I’m truly proud.”

Simon looked at Price and inhaled. “Thank you sir but I’m still terrified.”

Price chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Oh that won’t change, wait till she brings a boy home.”

Simon froze as Price walked towards the door. The poor bloke that would be coming home to Simon, she may never get a boyfriend until he dies. Yeah that would be the case.

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lokischocolatefountain · 11 months

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Sundress

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Fluff, slight smut, no angst for once, slutshaming but not how you think)

She laughed freely at something his cousin said, all her nervousness from their journey to Texas leaving her little by little when his family embraced her as one of their own within minutes of meeting her. Oh and the alcohol helped too. He took her hand and played with her fingers as he sipped on his beer, smiling as he felt himself relax in the presence of the people who knew him the best.

It was unbelievable really, being back in Laredo not as the former sheriff who ran out on his bride but as a federal agent with a beautiful woman on his arm wearing his ring. She was here in a pretty sundress, sitting on the sofa in his home, laughing with his cousins as they shared embarrassing stories about him. Pops loved her, just as he expected and he just knew that if Ma was alive, she would love her too.

It could’ve just been his beer-addled mind, but he was so happy with her right there, right then that he would quit his job and just keep her right there in Laredo. He never liked the damn place, always wanted to break free and run off to explore the big bad world. But he also saw the appeal of a small town as he stared into the old picture of his parents on their wedding day. He wanted love like that. And he had it. He wanted to take care of the ranch with her, work where he lived so that he could slip into the house whenever he wanted to kiss her senseless. He wanted to wake up in the morning without worrying about going elsewhere for work and just bury himself in her warmth, make sweet love to her, have the big family he’s always secretly wanted.

“Why can’t I have a baby brother?” He recalled asking his parents, wishing to have a playmate at home. They’d tried. For many many years, they’d tried. But he didn’t know that. “It’s because you’re a naughty boy and I don’t have time for more naughty ones.” Ma said, pinching his cheeks before getting back to work with the newborn foal.

All his cousins had siblings and though he was close enough to them to not long for more kids his age to play with, he was jealous of them and angry at his parents. So he told himself all those years ago that when he was old enough, he would give his son a lot of little siblings to play with. It was stupid and childish really, but the sentiment hadn’t worn off over the years. He would like a big family someday. When they were away from all the dangers his job brought them.

Family and friends flitted out one by one, making Javier grateful that he didn’t have to kick them out to take his fiancé to bed. He loved his family and all but he had been around her for hours without being able to touch her inappropriately and that was getting to him. Kicking his family out to fuck his girl wouldn’t have been nice. And it wouldn’t have done well for his ‘Javi who left his fiancé at the altar’ reputation.

“I really like them,” she giggled as she cuddled into him on the sofa. He pressed a kiss to her lips and pulled back to find her smiling wide. He smiled back, unable to resist the infectious effects of her smile.

“Good. And they like you too. Especially pops.”

“Wooo!” She pumped her fist in the air, making him laugh. “‘S nice to have my future father-in-law’s approval.”

“Yeah well, let’s not rub it in my face,” he grumbled, recalling how unimpressed her father was with him. But he couldn’t fault the man. If his daughter came home with a guy who got shot at everyday for a living, he would be more than just unimpressed.

“Aww, Pobrecito,” she cooed before pressing wet kisses to his cheek. “He’ll come around. He’s just annoyed that you would be such a slut and have sex with his daughter under his roof before marrying her.”

“And whose fault is that?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. She’d teased him all day, fucking grabbed him beneath the dinner table while carrying on conversation about work with her family.

“Whose fault?” She asked, making her eyes all soft and sweet just like the night she sneaked into the guest bedroom of her family home and begged him to fuck her. How was a man supposed to resist those sweet eyes and their filthy requests that contradicted their innocent act?

“Yours.”

“Mhmm?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay then,” she said, smiling sweetly. Nothing good came out of that innocent act. “I’ll be a good girl tonight. I’ll take my bag to the guest bedroom. Sleep there for our entire week here.”

He rolled his eyes at her and snatched her bottle of beer before emptying the contents in one gulp. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easy.

“Rude!”

“Better rude than cruel, you absolute demon of a woman.”

“Cruel!? How dare you! I’ve been on my best behavior all day. I made your family fall in love with me faster than you made my family tolerate you. Miguel loves me so much that he would marry me if you didn’t. Linda invited me on a shopping trip and José didn’t move from me for hours.”

“José is two,” he said, laughing. Babies loved everyone, right? They were just innocent little creatures who loved everything. Or that was just what he told himself when his base instincts told him to take her to his room and put a baby in her immediately.

It wasn’t his fault. It was the goddamn sundress making her look all sweet and homely and just like something he’d want to put a baby in. He was going insane. Just the sight of her fitting in so well with his family and cradling his cousin’s kid while wearing a ring that declared her his was enough for him to stop thinking practically about all the things they needed to get out of the way before having kids.

“So? He loves me. I’m just so dang lovable,” she said, poking his chest with her index finger. “Not my fault that I’m perfect and you’re a big grump my father doesn’t care for.”

“He doesn’t hate me for being a grump. He hates me because he heard his innocent little girl screaming my name at night.”

“Asshole!” She gasped and shoved him away from her, but he returned right back and kissed her on the lips. Before she could call him more names, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, laughing as he felt her grab his ass immediately. Becoming boring was one of the reasons he didn’t want to get married, but with a girl like her who wanted him so openly, there wouldn’t be a boring day in his life.

“You make me fuck you in your family home, I get to have you fuck me in my childhood bedroom,” he said, carrying her to his room.

“Around all the posters of half naked women?”

“You offended, baby?” He asked, slapping her ass. He wasn’t the half naked women plastered all over his walls kind of guy anymore. But it made him feel giddy to think she might be…jealous?

“Nope! Just regretting taking down my John Wayne and Sydney Poitier posters. I had a John Wayne poster where he’s on a horse, wearing a cowboy ha—” she gasped as he dropped her on his bed.

“He was just a fake cowboy, baby. I’m the real deal. Got a ranch and all. I’ll put on the clothes if you want me to. Get on a horse, wear the damn hat. You want that?” He asked, hovering over her as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“I don’t know, Javi…” she tutted, twirling his hair around her finger. “You might look like a clown in it since you gave up the cowboy life to be a slut in Colombia.”

“I gave up the cowboy life to chase Escobar,” he corrected, giving her a pointed look.

“Yeah, but you spend more time being a slut than chasing Escobar.”

He pinched her ass, making her shriek and slap her hand over her mouth. “Javi! Don’t make me scream. I don’t want your dad to think badly of me!”

“Oh that’s one thing I can’t do, baby. Making you scream and making you cream comes naturally to me,” he said, making her gasp in horror. She had no reason to react so dramatically seeing that he’d definitely given her worse lines in the past. But it was fucking cute.

“Slut,” she chided, pushing him away but then pulling him down to her immediately. She gave him a peck on the lips before blessing the rest of his face with her kisses. It had him smiling like a kid, laughing like he used to when he was a permanent resident of this room.

“How many girls you fuck on this bed before me, Peña?” She asked as he shrugged his shirt off and got to work on her sundress. She looked pretty as hell in it, the white cotton with lemons printed on it giving her the look of the chaste woman she was not. But she looked the part in front of his family, hair down and neatly combed, pink on her cheeks and lips, and a pretty dress that made her look the part of a fiancée any group of Tias would approve of.

“You’re the first. The only one,” he said, pushing the elastic off her shoulders and kissing the swell of her breasts. He breathed in her distinct scent mixed with her sweat and took her breast into his mouth. She tasted salty from sweating, but he was not one to be disgusted by that. He came home to her sweaty and disgusting every damn night and she took him anyway. He buried his face between her breasts and took in her scent, groaning as his cock twitched in response.

Images of her with her knees bent by her head, still wearing the damn sundress as he drilled into her cunt filled his brain.

“Riiight. Totally believe that,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“You don’t trust me? You’re the only girl— woman, on this bed.”

“I don’t believe you. I know for a fact that you were a slut in high school.”

“Oh I was,” he agreed, hand diving beneath her skirt. “But I never brought girls back here. I sneaked into their bedrooms and sneaked out when we were done.”

“Of course you did,” she laughed, fucking herself on his fingers. It was sweet, having her in his family home, learning more about him and being delighted in what she found.

“It’d been a fantasy for a while actually, to bring a girl home, sleep with her on my bed. I just hated having to pull my pants up and run out before my girlfriend’s parents caught us and shot me.”

“You absolute menace!” She scolded and shook her head. He wondered if she would’ve given him her time of day had they gone to school together. He was quite the lanky kid with none of the muscles of his current body that she loved so much. He didn’t have much game either, not enough to impress her at least. She was a big city girl and all he knew at fifteen was Laredo and its oppressive walls. The Agent Javier Peña of now had slipped a diamond ring on her finger, but Javi from Laredo would’ve made a fool out of himself trying to get her to just talk to him.

Or not.

Maybe she would’ve liked him back. Maybe stupid boys with the worst pickup lines and too much confidence were her teenage self’s type.

“Would’ve sneaked into your room too,” he teased, bunching her skirt up at her waist before sucking her clit between his lips.

“Javi!” She squealed and not from pleasure. He apologized for hurting her with his desperation and placed a gentle kiss on the nub.

“My dad would’ve killed you for sure,” she said, running her hand over his arm. He flexed his muscles for her benefit and she took his offer, lavishing his arm with attention before moving a hand down his back as far as she could reach.

“Worth it for this pussy.”

He spent the night with his head between her legs, making her cry his name into her hand and then his pillow. In his head, he gave Javi from two decades ago a pat on the back. He’d gotten out of Laredo like he always wished, no matter the circumstance. He landed a pretty girl who wanted to fuck just as much as he did. He had love like his parents. He’d have a wedding he wouldn’t walk out on and someday maybe the grandchild his dad mentioned in passing.

Life was good.

Series Masterlist

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arabellasleopardcoat · 5 months

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Lookalike (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Inside the highest tower of the Red Keep, lives a girl with long silver hair...

Warnings: Oh man. What a trip. Rapunzel, innocence kink, daddy issues, cursing, mature language. Light groping, kissing. Daemon, and all his usual warnings. Manipulation. I tried to make it whimsical. You know, a fairy tale.

Requested: Yup. For the bingo. Daemon + retelling of another story. Posted it early because I couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up finishing this.

Once upon a time, in a far away land called Westeros, lived a King and a Queen. The Queen was a beautiful woman, with hair made of spun silver and gold.

The King and the Queen had a daughter, a bright girl called Rhaenyra. They loved her deeply, but as many powerful men behind him, the King could not help but wish for a son.

When the Queen had carried Rhaenyra, her pregnancy had been harsh. She had struggled to fall with child, and when she had, she had been sick the whole time. The Queen was not too sure if she could withstand another pregnancy.

“My love, I need my heir.” The King said to her. “You must help me and try again.”

“But husband, you know we cannot. The Maester said pregnancies were too rough on me."

“If I can't have my heir, I fear I will lose my throne!”

So the Queen decided to try again. Soon, she was with child. Yet, the Queen could feel something was different, this time. She got twice as large as she was when she was carrying Rhaenyra, her body ached even more. Only the hottest baths could soothe her abundant pains.

“This pregnancy is not normal, not normal at all.” Said the Maester, when examining the Queen. “I fear the delivery will be hard.”

And hard it was. For there was not one baby but two. A girl and a boy, a moon and a sun. The parents only found out when the Queen was unable to deliver the baby, and the King, believing it to be his precious heir, ordered the Maester to cut her open.

Wailing into the world they came, shrieks so loud they rose half the Red Keep. Every bell in the city was toiling for them. The King named his heir Baelon. The girl, the little moon, was forgotten. That was you.

Too young to know it then, your first hours were spent in your sister's arms, both of you forgotten in favor of the new heir. But it was barely hours at all when your little brother passed away.

At the funeral, the King was the picture of despair. His Queen was dead by his hand, his heir lasted no longer than a day. Now a father to a baby girl he didn’t know how to care for, and an unruly maiden.

Perhaps, sensing his despair and hoping to offer some words of comfort, and Arryn cousin took you from him and gasped:

“By the Sevens! If she is the very image of Aemma as a babe.” No one took in consideration that this Arryn cousin was not, in fact, older than the Queen.

“Is she?” The King asked, on the verge of tears. Your father could not stop remembering your mother’s face, as the Maester aided your entrance into the world. Her cries haunted him even in his sleep. He was turning into a decaying corpse, from inside out, guilt rotting him alive. “Rhaenyra, come here.”

“Father?”

“Does she look like your mother?”

Your sister squinted at you. You yawned, a toothless, sweet thing. Rhaenyra wasn't very knowledgeable about babes, but she liked you. You had grabbed into her finger the first time you had seen her, tiny fingers turning into the most adorable rings.

“She has her beauty.” She answered, politely. The King hummed, an idea sparkling into his head. Soon, the highest tower in the Red Keep was being repurposed, and the Hand relocated.

Nine and ten years later, that brings us to you, in a continent named Westeros. Inside it, Seven Kingdoms. Inside them, a city called King's Landing. Inside the city is a castle. In the castle, a tower. In the tower is a room. In the room, a girl. You.

You stared at your reflection, squaring your shoulders. You gave yourself a big smile.

“Father, I want to try claiming a dragon.” You repeated to the mirror, before shaking your head. “No, no. Too disrespectful. Lord Father, I was wondering if I could go and try to claim a dragon?”

The reflection did not answer. You frowned. You didn't like groveling, but you weren't too sure of what else you could do. Perhaps, sending him a note would be better.

As the youngest sister of the heir to the Iron Throne, you had led a sheltered life. Even more so, as the spitting image of his late wife, according to your father. When looked in the right light, your eyes were the same shade hers had been. And the way you spoke did resemble the short, clipped speech of the Vale.

No one dared question those things, even though your accent had been ensured by your father by providing you with tutors only from that region. The King was very protective of you, set on expiating his guilt over the death of your mother by ensuring your safety.

All of your care had been provided by him after her death. Viserys knew nothing about child-rearing, but refused to let any servant touch you beyond the wet nurse. You grew into a child, and your father didn't even know how to cut your long, silver hair.

Years passed, and soon you learned to take care of yourself. Used to long hair as you were, you never thought about cutting it. Instead, your mind was preoccupied with more urgent matters. For example, how could you get out of the Red Keep.

Sometimes, your father's protection turned overbearing. Unlike your older sister, you were not allowed to leave the castle. Nor had you been allowed to partake in the activities other young ladies did. The only way you had managed to know the world around you had been through your books and observations.

Your rooms were in the tallest tower in the Red Keep, ensuring you would be kept safe from intruders and even invaders, if such a thing ever came to pass. You had double the guards Rhaenyra and Viserys did. Instead of providing his new Queen with a sworn shield, he had chosen to devote all the Kingsguard to you.

While you knew your tower had been used for other things before, it had clearly been refurnished. Now, it worked as a castle of its own, inside which you had a tiny kitchen, bathing quarters, rooms, and a library. The idea was that you would never need anything outside it. A tiny universe, just for you. You had plenty of space for your books and trinkets, but it made for a lonely existence.

Each time there were unknown men roaming the Keep, you got sent back to your tower. Your father didn't like the idea of you being married off or corrupted by them. You were too precious, too good. He had said that when the day came, he would find you a good match. One that, you suspected, would keep you close to home. Perhaps Aegon, or one of your cousins in the Vale.

If you married at all, of course. Your father had gone through a phase of encouraging your faith in the Seven, in the hopes of you deciding to be a Septa. If you did, the King would be most pleased, for it would mean you would never suffer the same fate as your mother.

You wanted neither. What you wanted more than anything was to see the world, do the things Rhaenyra told you happened outside the Red Keep. And according to you, it would all get started if you got your own dragon.

With a dragon, you would be protected. Your father always used your lack of one as an argument for denying you the experiences ladies your age had. Your egg had not hatched, but if you claimed one, you would surely be allowed to leave.

Unfortunately, what was required to be able to bond with a dragon had been deemed too dangerous for you. King Viserys had banned you from the dragon pit, arguing that dragons could be unpredictable.

Today, you had been sent back to your tower due to an impromptu visit from your Uncle Daemon. You knew the man by reputation only, by how much he angered your father. If there was one person who you were prohibited from speaking to, it was him.

You had heard the rumors, of course. A few years back, after your mother's passing, he had taken Rhaenyra to a pleasure house. Whatever had happened inside was between her and him. To your father, though, it was enough to keep you away from him.

Smile. Square your shoulders. Try again to assert yourself. You eyed your reflection once again, wondering how you could convince the King to let you try to get a dragon. Outside, something scraped against a rock, again and again. Curious, you went to the window.

On the very base of your tower, there was a man hopelessly attempting to climb upwards. He was very dashing, sporting the same silver hair you did, only much shorter.

“Who are you?” You asked, slightly frightened. In truth, you were not used to strangers being so close to you. Your father always said men were dangerous, and that outside the Red Keep there were aberrant creatures, mean and ruthless, that hurt young maidens for their enjoyment. “Step away from my tower, or I shall call my guards!”

The man ignored you, choosing instead to stab a sword between the rocks that made up your tower. You screamed, alarmed.

“Stop that! That's not allowed, you are damaging my tower.”

The man ignored you, trying to use his sword to climb. He grunted in exertion. You ran towards your chambers and filled a jar with water. Then, you ran back to your window and dumped it on his head.

The man shrieked and fell down the few meters he had managed to progress. You laughed, startled.

“Aren't you a fearsome thing?” He muttered to himself. Then, he looked up at you, with the most purple eyes you had ever seen. “Please, Princess. Help me out.”

“Why should I? You are an intruder.” You glared down at him, not even entertaining the notion, but deciding to play along regardless. In truth, you were curious about him. And starved for companionship.

“I am being chased.” He screamed up at you, frantically looking behind him. “Please, help me.”

You leaned down towards your window, bracing your arms on the edge of it.

“Bad business, that.” Your voice was cheery and woefully uninterested. This was the most exciting that had happened to you in years, you were not about to stop it. But at the same time, you did remember all of your father's warnings. There were people out there that were not kind.

“Damn it, you are just like Aemma. Pair of cynics.” He cursed, and started to try to retrieve his sword. Your eyebrows raised.

“You knew my mother?”

The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. He squinted at you. His bone structure reminded you of someone.

“I did.”

Your mother. A cynic. You smiled. No one had ever told you about her, not beyond all those polite things everyone said about the dead. How kind she was, how beautiful and learned. It did nothing to make you feel closer to her, these empty platitudes. They were generic, they could be talking about any woman.

Your father never went beyond that, either. The Aemma he talked about was an idolized version of her, a woman frozen into a perfect state of likeness to the Mother. He didn't allow anyone to contradict him, not even Rhaenyra. When you were younger, she had told you your mother had been hesitant about having another pregnancy, and struggling to carry another baby to term. Your father had banned her from visiting you during the next six moons.

But this stranger was speaking of her as if he knew her well. Your heart ached to know more about your mother, know the real her. It was enough to help you make your choice. You gathered your hair and threw it down the window.

“Come up then.” You ordered.

The man looked at the mass of hair in bewilderment. He touched a strand of it, fascinated by the way it picked up the light. He did not move.

“Use it as rope. You won't hurt me.” Were all men so dumb? Surely, if this one was so slow, he could not be a threat.

“Of course. Magic hair. Fucking Viserys.” The man started to climb. He got quickly inside, panting with exertion.

“You know my father, too?” Your body tensed. This, you did not like. What if he was one of the men that were supposed to visit the castle today? One of those who corrupted and hurt young maidens?

Your heart started to beat harder and harder. You tried to convince yourself he might not be a bad man. Perhaps, he had met the King through your mother. Regardless, you turned away from him, keeping your voice and posture deceivingly calm.

“Would you like some water?” You did not wait for an answer, starting to move towards the kitchen. You reached into a cabinet, as if searching for a cup.

The man followed. You could hear his footsteps on the stone floor.

“I do know your father.” His voice was strange. As if he were realizing he was making a mistake but couldn't pinpoint why. Uninterested, you took out a cup. “He is a great King.” He added, hurriedly. Just in time for you to grab a pan, turn and smack it against his head as hard as you could.

The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You hiked up your skirts and rushed to his side. Kneeling by him, you took a closer look at his sword and grinned. You had seen it before. In your books. That was Dark Sister, Visenya's sword.

You had caught Daemon Targaryen. What better proof to show your father that you were not helpless? You tied him to a chair and gagged him for good measure. Then, you pushed him inside your bathing quarters. Only then did you call for a guard.

“Could you summon my father? I need him.” The guard bowed, but didn't speak. Most of them didn't. Your father said they weren't allowed to.

Despite not receiving an answer, you knew your father would be here soon. He always came when you called. You placed a kettle in the fire. Before it could boil, King Viserys was already there.

“Dear.” The King kissed your forehead. You tried not to wrinkle your nose at the smell of herbs and milk of the poppy. Your father always smelled like a medicine cabinet. “As beautiful as your mother, like always.”

You smiled.

“Father. Tea is not ready yet, but sit.” You pointed to your small parlor. When you were a child, the two of you had used to pretend you were a great lady, hosting tea parties there. It had been how he had taught you courtly manners.

The memory was bittersweet. Your father was good to you. He had raised you as best as he could, loving you more fiercely than any of his other children. It was not your intention to upset him, but you knew this topic would do exactly that.

“Were you lonely, my heart?” The King settled on one of the loveseats. You sat across from him.

“I did miss you.” You gave him a coy little look. “But I asked you to come for something else.”

“Do tell.”

“Father. I think I am ready to claim a dragon.” You rushed to say, almost tripping over your words. Already, you could see how his expression was clouding over, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“You know you are not.” The King answered, sternly. “It's too dangerous.”

“I can handle myself.” You fought for your tone to remain even. If it came out too angered, your father would say you were hysteric or having a tantrum, and refuse to take you seriously. So was the curse of being a woman.

“My heart, you have never stepped out of this tower.”

And you had not. But what did dragons care about one's knowledge of the world? You had read about dragons bonding with babes, sharing their cradle with them. To claim one, being well traveled or wise was not required. One had to be chosen, that was all.

You raised your hands in the air, palms up, as if placating a beast.

“I don't want you to get upset, Father. I wanted to prove to you that I am capable, too.” You got up and opened the door to your bathing quarters. “Do not be scared.”

The bound Daemon was still gagged, inside the tub. This time, though, he was awake. Upon seeing his brother, he immediately started screeching and squirming, making up a ruckus.

“Shh.” You said to him, kicking the tub a little. He was turning out to be a very annoying guest. “As you can see, Father, I caught him.”

“And you put him in the tub.” The King said, perplexed.

“He was dripping water all over my floors.” But your explanations fall on deaf ears, since your father has already moved on from his shock. He grabbed Daemon's shirt, forcing him to sit upright.

“Haven't I told you this tower is out of limits?” The King barked at him. “I will throw you into the deepest, more dark and humid dungeon I can find, and then I will…”

“Father.” You did not like being ignored. Daemon was a secondary concern, you just wanted to know if you were allowed out now.

Yet, your father seems to think the issue was an entirely different thing.

“Oh. Sorry, dear. What father meant is that Uncle Daemon has been very bad.” He gave him a shake for good measure.

“I can tell.” Your tone was flat. “Have I proven myself enough to be allowed to try to claim a dragon?”

The King let go of Daemon. He turned towards you and tenderly started checking you over for injuries.

“I would die if something happened to you.” He answered, evasive. You didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. It was too dangerous. It was a no.

Five more long days went by. Poor you, having to stay all day in your tower. After Daemon, your father had now deemed it too dangerous to allow you to roam the Red Keep. It was the tower and nothing more. All you could do was sing Old Valyrian songs and look out the windows. Sometimes, birds would chirp from above, and you would feel slightly better, as if they were singing with you.

Perhaps it had been your song, what had led him to you. Perhaps it had been his own guilty consciousness for a sin long forgotten, or a sliver of empathy for the lonely girl in the tower up above. Whatever it was, before the sixth day came to an end, Daemon appeared under your window.

“Princess, Princess, let your hair down.” You heard him say. You walked to your window, curiously. Daemon was back!

“Come down if you want to be free.” The Prince ordered. “I do not have much time.”

His words stilled you. Freedom. Your father often said freedom was a dangerous thing. If you let people make their own choices, it was much more likely that they would choose unwisely. That was why you were kept in the tower, safe from the world and bad decisions. As long as King Viserys controlled your life, you would be protected.

But what if you left? What if you ran, jumped out of your tower and made your way to Dragonstone to get your dragon? You imagined a version of yourself, dress fluttering in the wind like a flag as you ran, barefooted in the sand. You imagined yourself feeling the sun in your face, having your first cup of mead or watching a parade.

Then you imagined yourself tripping and falling into the sea. You didn't know how to swim. No one saw the need to teach you such a thing. You imagined yourself at the parade, getting robbed. You imagined a man, trying to hurt you. What if people out there, what if Daemon, were truly as wretched as your father said they were?

Your face must have shown your distress because Daemon, impatient, shouted something more.

“I won't hurt you.” The Prince raised his hands in surrender. “I will not tell you I am a good man, but I will take you to Dragonstone.”

His honesty was what sealed the deal. You threw your hair down, grabbed one of your warmest cloaks, and shouted for him to loop your hair around a branch and not let go.

Daemon obeyed. You jumped, and as your feet hit the floor, you wished to be able to say you didn't look back. But you did. And as you saw the silhouette of your tower getting smaller and smaller in the distance, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in your chest.

Noticing how quiet you have gotten, Daemon adjusts your cloak and gives you a grin.

“Do you want to ride Caraxes?” He asks. You match his grin, sadness nearly forgotten. There is a whole world out here, begging to be explored. You can be sad later when the adventure ends.

Caraxes is the most bewitching creature you have ever seen. He is red and serpentine, looking so much like the drawings of dragons you used to do as a child. You nearly scream in excitement.

Daemon whispers to him to stay calm, but Caraxes seems to sense your happiness, for he keeps trying to correspond your loving pets.

“Oh, by the Seven Hells.” The Prince pushes you towards the saddle. “If neither of you stop the tail wagging, we are going to get caught.”

“And we don't want that.” You agree, kissing Caraxes' scales one last time.

Caraxes gives another excited, full-body wag. He seems to be preening under the attention. Daemon must not praise him very much, which is a shame.

“You are such a good boy. So pretty, too.”

Caraxes preens even more. It makes his body shake, tail hitting against the floor in an ominous beat. Daemon groans.

“Enough, enough.” The Prince grabs you by the waist and gets you up in the saddle. You shriek in laughter. Caraxes appears to be happy about it, too, since he starts spreading his wings. “We are going to get caught.”

Daemon jumps into the saddle, hugging you tightly to him. You squirm, unused to the closeness of another human being. When your father and Rhaenyra touch you, it's never like this.

Daemon feels overwhelming, in the best kind of way. His chest is firm, and his smell surrounds you. His arms around your waist hold you tight, but remain loose enough to not hurt you. Your hips fit snugly against his, and make something you can't yet name stir in your lower belly.

It's different. It's strange. You want it to stop. Why do you feel so nervous, as if Caraxes was suddenly dropping down and not barely getting ready to fly?

“Soves, Caraxes.” Daemon orders, careful not to scream in your ear. “Are you alright, little Princess?”

You cease your squirming, hoping that he doesn't notice whatever is different with you.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You keep squirming as if there were ants inside your bodice. Are you uncomfortable?” The Prince snickers by your ear, pressing a soft kiss right by the top of it. What happens next is impossible to hide. Your body gives a shiver, all of your hairs standing up. The sensation is as confusing as it is pleasant.

“My stomach feels funny.” You complain, knowing that it isn't exactly that, but close enough that he probably won't question it.

“Funny how?” Daemon kisses behind your ear. You make a hurt, confused noise. You have been kissed before, but never there. In your experience, kisses are not this devastating.

“Funny.” You refuse to elaborate because while naive, you are not dumb. This must be precisely why your father wanted you away from men. If they were able to inflict so much pleasure, it was no wonder why maidens let them do whatever they wanted to them.

“Does it hurt, little Princess?” One of his palms goes to your lower stomach, pressing slightly. “Here?”

You squirm. So he definitely knows.

“Yes.”

“Hurts? Or…?” Daemon's hand goes dangerously low, nearly pressing between the parting of your legs. You squirm more. He brushes something that makes you jolt, delighted.

“We shouldn't.” You answer. It would be much more convincing if you were not relaxing into him. He laughs right in your ear, but retracts his hand.

Even with his hands away from your most sensitive areas, you still feel worked up. Your bodice is too rough against your skin, the way Caraxes moves under both of you makes the area between your legs tingle.

You keep your eyes firmly on the sky in front of you. As it starts to change into pinks and yellows, the feeling ebbs and starts to fade. You feel sleepy, so you recline more against Daemon. A tiny yawn escapes you.

“Tired?” Daemon brushes your hair back, much more tenderly than your father would. With your father, the touch is always harsher, more possessive. As if he is always grasping to the last threads of Aemma he can hold. With Daemon, it feels like he is actually touching you.

You hum, soft and sweet.

“Sleep, little one.” He kisses your cheek. “I'll wake you up when we get there.”

The next time you wake up, it is in an unknown bedroom. At first, you panic. The canopy over the bed looks too similar to the one in your tower, and you wonder if perhaps you dreamed it all. Daemon, Caraxes, the flight, your feelings. Then, you get even more scared because the more you look, the more you realize this is not your room.

You get out of bed. You are still dressed in the same dress you were wearing earlier, but your shoes are gone. The door is closed. Fear grips at you. What if Daemon has sold you to someone evil and rotten, as your father says people outside the Red Keep are? What if he is the evil man?

You rush to the door. It opens easily. There is a hallway that looks much like the ones in the Red Keep, but there is no one there. You scream in fear.

Another of the doors opens in the hallway. Daemon, in a sleeping shirt and breeches, runs out.

“Princess!” He hurries to your side. You are crying, you realize, as he wipes away some of your tears. “What is it?”

“I woke up alone, and I didn't recognize…” You sob, softly.

“Oh, little girl.” Daemon scoops you in his arms. “I should have thought of that. I am so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you look at him, eyes swollen from your crying.

The world had impressed you during the day, but now that the night had fallen, and you found yourself in an unknown castle, you were afraid. What if there were monsters lurking in the hallways? Or if you needed something? What if someone hurt you?

“I do not want to go back there. I am scared.” You rubbed your eyes. Your hands dug into his arm, not wanting to let go of him.

“Do you wish me to keep you company while you fall back asleep?” Daemon asked, gently smoothing your hair down. You must look a mess, and would find it embarrassing were it not for the fact that being alone in such a big place terrifies you. At this point, you would do anything to keep him here.

“Please.” No more words are needed. Daemon doesn't want you to beg, nor does he want anything in exchange. It's comforting.

One of his hands goes to your shoulder blades, leading you back to the room. Daemon tucks you in and sits by your side.

“I'll stay until you fall asleep.” He says, smoothing down your frown with the gentlest touch. Daemon starts to hum in High Valyrian, softly. You know the melody. It's about flames and burning together. Almost against your will, your eyelids start to drop.

“Don't… Don't want you to go.” Your body feels so heavy, as if sinking into the mattress. With great effort, you manage to curl your fingers around one of his.

“Oh, Princess.” He says, interlacing your hands.

“Stay.” You order.

Daemon lets go of your hand, and you whine, awake instantly. You go to sit up, but he shushes you.

“Shh. I am just… Let me.” He slides under the covers, behind you. You close your eyes, trying to relax against him. It's no hardship at all. Now that the candles have been blown, the light is low and Daemon feels so warm against you.

He starts to trace your features. Finger meets brow, temple, cheek. Thumb brushes nose, then lips. Idly, so very idly, his voice mutters near your ear.

“How many mouths has yours kissed?”

The question startles you. You suppose there is no harm in telling him, yet there is a tinge of embarrassment over it, too. It has finally dawned on you what this new, uncomfortable, thrilling feeling is. Desire. You lust after Daemon.

“I have…” You answer, softly. You do not dare speak it out loud. Not when you rather know exactly how far the two of you are. “How about you?”

“I have lost count. Twenty, perhaps more so.” Daemon says it so casually, as if it did not matter at all. But to you, it does. What are you, compared to this man? How could you want him in such a manner, having so little to offer?

“What makes it special, then?” There has to be a reason for him to bother with kissing all these people. Perhaps, to him, all kisses feel as devastating as his does to you.

“The person, I would gather.” The Prince answers, softly rubbing your back as one would do to help a child fall asleep. You frown. It does make sense. You know what love is, after all. Being in love with someone, or at least desiring them, must make it special.

You would like to kiss him, you think. Daemon is handsome, and his touch does not feel as damning as other's do. He has already provided you with pleasure, even if unknowingly.

You make a wish, then. For your first kiss to be special, with someone you like and that knows what they are doing. If not Daemon, at least someone like that.

“Was your first special?” You ask, curious.

“No. She was terrible. Sharp teeth and all.” Daemon moves your hair aside, exposing your neck. You barely get any warning before he is taking a bite out of your nape. For a playful gesture, it's oddly painful. Your body tenses, and you try to fight it, but Daemon's hands are like a vice around your waist. “Like this.”

With no other choice, you ride it out. Pain is nearly unfamiliar to you, beyond small cuts or painful cycles. It's scorching red and hot, making you break into a sweat. Daemon forces you to take, and take, gently holding your hands in his. It's only after that you go limp under him, twitching slightly, that he lets up.

The aftermath of pain is sweet, you learn. Daemon kisses around the painful bite and blows a raspberry behind your ear. Now that he has let go of your nape, you find out that the pain was not so bad. You are not even bleeding.

“You are such a good girl.” Daemon praises. “So strong. I'm so proud of you.”

You preen as if you were Caraxes, delighted to make him feel proud of you. Daemon smiles against your temple, as if amused by you, and presses a little kiss there. It’s so tender, and so loving, a sharp contrast to his earlier behavior. It makes you feel as if you were once again on dragonback.

“Could you kiss me?” The words escape out of your mouth, without any real thinking. You know they are the wrong thing to say as soon as they leave your mouth.

Daemon pulls away from you. A hurt, confused noise leaves your throat, hands desperately searching back for his warmth.

“Oh, little Princess.” Daemon mutters, tone full of regrets. “I should not.”

“Why not?” You complain. You are not used to being denied so. The only times others do not bend to your will, you get what you want by your own means. Case in point, leaving your tower. Your father had said no, so you had ensured it happened by other means.

“I have done…. What I have done to you, why I took you…” Suddenly, it is as if an icy hand has taken hold of your throat and started to suffocate you. Betrayal settles over your features, overpowering it all.

“You are only doing this to piss off my father.” You say, shocked. Daemon raises his hands, trying to interrupt you, but you halt him with an imperious wave. “You had no intention of taking me to the dragons. You sought to ruin my reputation, as you did Rhaenyra's.”

“No, Princess, no.” Daemon shakes his head. You get up from the bed, angered. He does not try to stop you. “I swear I didn't mean for anything untoward to happen.”

“I bet you said that back then, too.” You retort. You have half a mind to do something crazy. To grab the fire poker and smash his head with it, to set the whole place on fire. You want to make him hurt.

“I… I did mean to anger your father.” Daemon admits, still trying to placate you. It only makes you wish to scream and scream and never stop. “But I do think it is a shame not to let you even try. Dragons are your birthright. Denying you is unnatural.”

You glare at him. You are unconvinced of the truthfulness of his words. Your father was right. You were unprepared for the world, and it couldn't show more. Daemon has tricked you as easily as if he were taking candy from a babe.

“I'll take you there regardless. I promised to.” His eyes are pleading, but you do not wish to hear him, or see him any longer. Instead, you sit in front of the vanity and look at yourself.

The long, silver hair. The scared eyes. The night, the first you have of freedom, is spent utterly cold and miserable. You stare at yourself and stare at yourself until you think you are going mad.

Daemon does not say a word. He doesn't leave the room, either. Perhaps he falls asleep at some point, perhaps he does not.

You look at your reflection again. You look at your hair. Silver, like his. The lovely color Daemon loves so much. Long, and braided back, flaunting your maidenhood and youth. Forever your father's little girl, never allowed to grow, to love, to lust.

A braid that long won't allow you to claim a dragon. You are more likely to set yourself on fire or trip on it. It's that thought that gives you the determination needed to do what needs to be done.

In the first drawer of the vanity there are a few miscellaneous ribbons. There is also a pair of scissors. You grab it, and grab your braid. You chop it off. As it falls from your shoulder, you feel a weight lift off from you. No longer your nape is heavy with the weight of all these expectations laying on you.

There is a woman staring at you, from the mirror. She looks like she is getting ready for war, eyes alight with determination. You stare at the contours of her face, mesmerized by what you see. All traces of Aemmas's ghost are gone from your reflection. You look more like yourself than you have ever done.

Daemon is up at sunrise. He may have been watching you chop all your hair off and expose the lovely bite mark that now mars the skin of your nape. He may have been sleeping. Whatever it is, he doesn't say a word about your change of appearance, choosing instead to dress in silence.

“Off we go.” He says, briskly, leading you out of the castle. Daemon points to a hill in the distance. “But after that, you are on your own.”

You are suddenly filled with doubt, the determination you had felt when looking in the mirror dissipating under the morning light. Your stomach clenches. Your legs are sore, unused to the exercise of riding. The bite on your neck burns.

"I do not feel ready to claim a dragon.” You say to him, as you get closer and closer to the hill. You feel like a fool. What if your father is right? What if you end this escapade with nothing to show but a ruined reputation?

“You are.” Daemon answers, barely paying attention. It makes you angry beyond belief. To make your mood known, you stomp over a few leaves, grinding them to dust under your heel. Ugh. Why were you looking to him for reassurance in the first place? It was not like Daemon wanted to help you. He just wanted to make himself feel less guilty over trying to cause a scandal and kill your father from the fright.

“I am not.” It’s almost as if you can hear the voice of your father in your head, telling you exactly why no dragon would bond with you. You are a fool, you are a little girl, you…

“You are a Targaryen.” Daemon interrupts your trail of thought with a squeeze to your nape. Right over the bite. It makes your knees nearly buckle. “You were born ready.”

“But what if it isn't enough? What if they see me, and don't want me? I am not brave, like Rhaenyra, or cunning like you or learned like my father. ”

“They will.” Daemon says. “Because you are strong here.” He taps your sternum. “And your father is a fool for not seeing it.”

You look at him. Past the guilt, past the acting up to get your father's attention. His eyes are nervous, but they hold the same steely determination yours had earlier. Daemon believes in you, you realize. You look up at the hill and think to yourself, it is time to see if you can claim a second dragon.

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plutoccult · 6 months

Text

MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE

pairing: jean kirstein x female reader

description: a few years after the successful peace negotiations, you and jean celebrate his first birthday with your new baby boy, but jean can’t help but look back on what it took to get to this day after dreaming of it as much as he could hope to live without breathing.

word count: 1.2k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: something short and sweet that’s not soul crushing angst. a shocker on my end, really. BUT, the attack on titan anime has finally ended. it’s like a chapter of my life is over, but a chapter ending only means a new one beginning. i always wanted to write something that depicted some sort of event after the end of the story, so it’s nice to fully bring that vision into fruition. i love writing for jean and i’ll miss him and the rest of the characters so very much, but the writing doesn’t end here for me! more content will come out of me until i get bored of it. i do, however, hope you enjoy this little fluff piece.

when dreaming about what life could be without titans or any worries, jean always knew what the perfect life would be for him. it was always consisted of the same fantasy; sitting out on a balcony with a glass of the finest liquor in hand, wife inside the house, and a newborn baby with the cutest, most innocent smile in his wife’s arms. the ideal daydream used to have a faceless woman, then mikasa took over for a brief second after being struck by her upon their first meeting, but now it’s been the same face for many, many years. since falling head over feet completely, jean could now only picture his future with you bearing his love and his children, and only that would be the perfect life for him. nothing else, just you.

sometimes jean wondered what life would be like if marco were still around. who would have died in his place instead of him that day? who would’ve had to deal with the pain of losing their best friend instead of him? would he live next door to jean’s dream home and babysit the kids whenever? jean liked to imagine marco as the perfect uncle. uncle marco. if only it could all be real. even so, all these years later, he was grateful for the life he had been given.

after years of hell fighting for the greater good, jean was finally able to settle down and live that perfect life he so desperately craved in his youth. he wasn’t very young anymore; small wrinkles began to form, his muscles grew tired far more easily, signs that he was starting to grow old, but not quite just yet. there was still more life to live, so much more he could live for.

today was jean’s birthday, and just like his teenage fantasies, he sat on a balcony with a glass of whiskey just as he imagined. the view of the town he lived in was great, but not the greatest. the only difference between jean’s dreams and his reality that there wasn’t a barrier between him and what he wanted most; you, holding your little baby boy in your arms.

caught in the middle of daydreaming, you emerge from inside the house and join jean on the balcony with your son. you gently grab the baby’s hand and pretend to act like he’s the one waving to jean, which makes him smile.

“does baby marco want to say hi to daddy?” you coo while jean looked at the two of you in awe. naming your child after marco was always in the cards, neither of you doubted it for a second when you both expressed wanting children. it was just the most beautiful thing in the world when he was finally born, after all this time of knowing what you wanted.

“here, lemme hold him.” jean offered, extending his arms out for baby marco. you carefully hand him over then sit down and watch as the infant reached his hands out to grab jean’s face, who was gently cradling him in his arms. “he’s getting so big now, i can’t even believe it.”

“i know.” you say with a smile on your face. “by the way, some letters came in the mail for you.”

“from who?” he questioned.

“armin and mikasa, of course. reiner and pieck too.” you began to ramble, listing off the names of all who sent letters for jean on his birthday. “oh, can’t forget connie. and then levi sent something that gabi and falco seemed to have signed—”

“so… pretty much everyone?” jean interrupted with a chuckle.

“queen historia as well.” you end off the list, giggling to yourself for forgetting such an important name. you simply can’t forget the queen, after all. “oopsie.”

“well, i oughta write everyone back as soon as possible.” he said, but you disagreed.

“you can write after cake, okay? i’ll go grab it now.” you say, standing up from your seat so you could head inside of the house.

“i told you i could make it.” jean insisted. “i don’t like making you do the work for me.”

although his words were sweet, you wouldn’t do that to him today out of all days. “make your own birthday cake? please. i’ll be right back.”

jean sat with baby marco close to him while you disappeared into the house for his birthday treat. you come back with a cake that has an array of lit candles, gently setting it down on the table as far away from the baby as possible. you take the baby out of jean’s hands while you sing happy birthday to him and sit across the table, your voice as soothing as the breeze.

when it was time for jean to blow out the candles and make a wish, he simply couldn’t think of anything to wish for. he finally had everything he ever wanted; the love of his life, a family of his own, and most importantly, peace. you both fought like hell a million times over to get here, doing things you regretted all the time. the past you shared together was ridden with sin, but the future didn’t have to be, and right now, the future was bright and golden like daylight.

if there was anything to possibly wish for, it was for things to stay just like this, so jean closed his eyes and blew out the candles and wished just for that. his eyes opened up to the sight of you and your son, and he was so happy to see it right in front of him.

“happy birthday, jean.” you say softly. baby marco beamed with the most innocent grin, his youthful laugh almost bringing jean to tears.

“thank you, my love.” he mustered up the words to say without crying.

jean insisted he cut the cake himself. seeing as you made it, this was the least he could do, and you didn’t argue. he sliced a piece for you first and set it down in front of you, watching as baby marco eyed the cake in complete awe.

jean’s eyes stray away from cutting his own piece as he found himself watching you with the baby. you were trying to eat your cake, but you couldn’t help but laugh at marco trying to get some of it from your fork.

“ah, no, no, no. you can’t have cake.” you coo, booping baby marco on the nose.

it was times like these that made jean so grateful. he captured even the smallest grain of a moment, cherishing every single one with the thought that tomorrow is not always promised, even when you two were free of the burdens of a solider saving humanity. no matter how many times he made a wish on some candies, there was always that “what if?” thought in the back of his brain that this some day would be taken away from him.

you look up and catch jean staring at you as if he were frozen, like he was taking a million pictures with his eyes. “what are you doing?”

“remembering this.” he simply replied, the best way he could put it all into words.

the love you had for each other and the life that’s been given to you would always be yours, all yours, and it would last beyond the very last breath both of you would take. in the end, all of the hardships were worth living to see this day.

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nicohischierz · 2 months

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stadium debut: saira hischier au

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hisch you want to join the taglist let me know!!

“i think the scar looks sexy neeks. although i am sad they had to hurt your beautiful face,” you told your fiancé.

nina snickered as she carried her niece.

rino chuckled at your expression and clapped his son’s shoulder before whispering something in swiss-german.

the hischier family and you were getting ready to have family skate down at met life stadium. this would be saira’s first time on the ice and you were terrified.

“nico. i think i’ll stay home with her and you go with rino and nina,” you voiced, seconds before heading out the door.

nico gesture for his sister and father to continue on whilst he stopped to talk to you. “schätzli, saira is going to be just fine. she’s going to have you and me there, plus there will be lots of other babies!” he reassured.

“and the guys have been dying to see her again,” nico added.

you kissed nico’s cheek and followed him out of the house, meeting up with rino and nina.

nina let her father and brother walk ahead as she grabbed your hand and smiled. “if you want to go out on the ice, i’ll sit on the bench with her,” she prompted.

you smiled sweetly at her and nodded “thank you nina,”

“we hischier girls stick together,” she smiled, pinching her nieces cheeks lightly.

the car ride to the stadium was quiet. you and nina were at the back with saira with rino and nico sitting in front.

as soon as you rocked up to the locker room, the boys cheered. they got up, half dressed, in order to meet you and your daughter.

“isn’t she just adorable,” you gushed.

dawson tickled saira’s tummy causing the little girl to clamp onto her uncles finger. the 20-year-old chuckled at the baby’s strong grip.

saira ended up falling asleep during the family skate as she was strapped up against your chest.

the next day, saira was dressed as a little italian mob daughter. you made sure to take pictures of nico and saira together, with nina offering to take pictures of the whole family.

nico kissed saira’s head before handing her to her babysitter. “i might come home from the game early and let you go soon,” you told the girl.

your neighbour, eloise, smiled “don’t worry mrs hischier, my parents know i’m here so they let me stay until you guys come back. plus, saira is one of the easiest baby’s to look after,” she reassured you.

at the stadium, you were immediately wrapped with a sense of adrenaline. you watched as the boys warmed up and spoke to their partners and families.

you’d even gone to lindy ruff and asked him to allow alex more game time, especially because he’d invited so many members of his family.

nina and rino laughed as you celebrated nico’s goal, jumping up and down. the same reaction for the second goal as well.

you’d even rolled your eyes when luke made a hit on jamie drysdale yelling “that’s pookie on pookie offence!”

whilst you may not have been able to play, you were proud of your boys. saira had changed your life for the better and you were anxious to start next season.

#nico hischier x player!reader #saira hischier au #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nicohischierz writes

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muertawrites · 2 years

Note

Same!!! I always have this thought in my head of Wayne telling eddy’s girlfriend or Dustin or just a friend “His mothers dead. And his father is in prison for putting her in the ground.”

!!!!!!!!!!!! that dialogue!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tell the duffers they're out of a job and all it took was a fuckin sentence

i can just imagine like. eddie doesn't talk about his family or his past. just wayne. just his life after ten years old or so.

you don't ask about it. the one time you did he got uncharacteristically quiet. his face totally fell and he got really pale. like all the life just completely drained from him.

"i don't like talking about it," was all he said.

so you avoid the subject.

then one day you're chillin at the house (wayne was able to upgrade after the earthquake) when you find a family picture. they're rare, since what few photos wayne had were mostly lost when the upside down became the right side up, but you can tell this one was salvaged. it's of a younger wayne and a dark-haired woman, sitting at a table. in her arms is an infant with a stark patch of black curls.

"that's julia."

wayne startles you, the way he can always move around so quietly. he walks up next to you and lifts the photo from its place on the bookshelf, holding it so you can get a better look.

"eddie's mom."

"... what happened to her?"

wayne takes you into the kitchen and makes the two of you some coffee. he sets with the photo between the two of you on the table, silent for a while as he finds the words.

"julie was a good woman," he tells you. "had a kind heart. too kind. fell in with my bastard brother thinkin' she could fix him. all he did was beat her blind. when eddie was ten, she was gonna leave. move 'em to chicago. rob found out and wouldn't have none of it. beat her so bad she was unrecognizable. neighbors called the cops, rob was arrested, and julia died in the hospital. i thank god every day that eddie was asleep and didn't have to see none of it."

you notice that wayne's hand is shaking, so you take it to steady him. he grips you so hard your circulation threatens to stop.

"i loved julia like a sister. and she loved her little boy. he's the reason that sick son of a bitch will rot in prison for the rest of his life. went and testified in front of a whole courtroom about the abuse his father did to him. was only eleven."

both of you are weeping at this point. unbeknownst to you, eddie lingers in the hall, listening to his uncle's retelling and biting back his own tears.

"he grew up into a good man. got his mother's soul. handsome as the devil like his father without the evil behind his eyes. smart as a whip, too."

eddie clears his throat. you whirl around, swallowing thickly when you meet his eye. he smiles, the expression half-formed and broken at the edges, and joins you at the table.

"it's okay," he whispers. his voice is choked. "i'm okay."

a few weeks later he takes you to her grave. you bring flowers, and he introduces you to her as if she can actually hear him. maybe she can. the spot is so peaceful, you can almost imagine her sitting there with you, kissing your cheeks and welcoming you into her little corner of bliss.

you and eddie visit julia every year on her birthday after that. you pack a picnic, and eddie brings his guitar and you a book, and you spend the day there. he shares memories of her - how she taught him to sew, how she had the most beautiful singing voice, how her pancakes are still the best he's ever had.

it isn't too many years until you're holding a dark-haired infant of your own, propping her up in your lap as you settle into the blanket for another annual picnic. the little girl giggles as she reaches for her father, tugging locks of his mane and grasping at the guitar pick dangling from his neck (he chuckles when she puts it in her mouth).

you lean in close to the headstone and whisper, so only you and the universe can hear:

"her name is julia."

#brb just gonna crush my own soul #eddie munson #eddie asks #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson backstory #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine

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117luv · 10 months

Text

THE PARENT TRAP — LHS | CHAPTER 4

synopsis: jungwon and ni-ki met each other at a summer camp and found out they were fraternal twins. this leads to events where the two ex-lovers, heeseung and yn, are reunited after 14 years by their children.

genre: exes to lovers, smau, fluff

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, poor attempts in humor, grammatical errors, marriage, pregnancy, parenthood, miscommunication

taglist: CLOSED!

a/n: hi my luvs! a lil late than my expected time to update but im doing better in terms of updating (cheers to me) and an eventful chap for today, also ill be trying to fix all of my old works links since many had been having problems with the links not showing up, ne ways have a great day n love yaaa <3

masterlist | previous | next

As the both of them waited for Yn to fetch them. Ni-ki's heart felt like it was jumping out of his chest. The woman who birthed him and the same person he had longed to hug are within arms reach and not a dream. He wondered if she would like him or not, but all of those thoughts went away when they heard a voice just a distance away calling out Jungwon. A beautiful woman came out of the car wearing a simple black dress and waved in their direction. They walked towards her, and she immediately hugged Jungwon, while Ni-ki was silently looking at the mother and son having their moment. This is when Yn noticed Ni-ki's presence and asked him to come near her. He now had a clear view of his mother, whom he only knew through a ripped picture from years ago.

"Hey sweetheart, are you Jungwon's friend?" she asked him, "Yes, I'm his friend. Nice to meet you Ms. Park" in which she replied, "No need to call me Ms. Park, just call me "Aunt Yn" and also does your dad know that we will be with you?" — "Yes, he's aware that i will be with you.", "Okay, thats sounds great and boys go ahead and sit on the car" and while Jungwon sat inside, Ni-ki finally had the courage to ask her for a hug, in which she immediately did as she gave him the tightest hug. He had never felt so happy to be able to see and hug his mom after all these years.

taglist [CLOSED] : @yangwaa @emikisses @yohanabanana @arizejkt19 @skuwu-blog @beatr2x @svarcq @softiehee @enhastolemyheart @deobitifull @emxshu @bucketofhiros @lost-leopard-beanie @soobin-my-beloved @azurez @flwrshee @beomgyusonlywife @lalalalawon @yanagisprettygf @astrae4 @myjaeyunn @sesame-street-lol @yumilovesloona @jhopesucker @omgjwon @yoonjunshi @wannatinyus @yeahhemmings- @coupscheri @dearyjw @neozon3nha @mevalemadrws @wonyoungsvirus @ilvsoup @dneltrise @chirokookie @noascats @sxftiell @onionzzzs @nokacchan @fairy-of-sugar @i-yeseo @02zluvbot @iamliacamila @nicholasluvbot @ilovewonyo @ddazed-lhs @tobiosbbyghorl @youmenotyummy @minhoie

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drewsbuzzcut · 4 months

Text

Pictures With Santa

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: minor angst and mentions pregnancy (during their breakup before they had Sloane) also this is lightly edited

Christmas 2025

“Do you think he’s going to cry?” Mat questions, nervously rocking an almost 5 month old Nolan. You’re both in a crowded mall, waiting in line to take pictures with Santa. Nolan may be a baby, but you and Mat still want to experience all the firsts.

“He’s asleep, Barzy,” you attempt to soothe him, running a hand over his hoodie clad back.

“Yeah, but you know he’ll wake up the second he realizes we aren’t holding him,” Mat stresses and he truly sounds worried.

“My baby, it’s going to be just fine. If it makes you feel better, you can hold him and we’ll just have to be in the picture,” you cup his cheeks, pressing your body against his to calm him down.

For a moment he seems to settle, his head leaning down to rest against your own, but as you’re about to give him a kiss he gets worked up again.

“What if the camera shutter scares him and he starts crying?”

“Then his first Santa photo will be a funny one,” you tease, earning a scowl from your boyfriend.

“If it’s really bugging you so much, we can leave,” you suggest, knowing that he won’t agree which is why you said it in the first place.

“No way. He’s my little strong man. We’ll get through this,” he states, leaning down to nose at Nolan’s soft cheek.

“We?” You ask, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Yes.” You kiss his little pout. You swear he and Nolan are twins, they pout the same way.

“We’re up, baby,” you say, pushing him ahead.

“Hi, merry Christmas,” Santa greeted you and your boys.

“Hi! Merry Christmas. Is it okay if we just sit next to you, so my boyfriend can hold our son? He’s still napping,” you ask and explain your reasoning.

“It’s no problem.”

You and Mat sit at each side of Santa, sitting on the arms of his large chair. Nolan nestled tightly in Mat’s arms as he tries to adjust him so the camera can get a good view of him. You both smile and wait until the first shutter of the camera. However, after the camera clicks, Nolan immediately wakes up. He’s not crying or cranky, so Mat decides to have him pose for a picture with just himself and Santa.

It’s the cutest picture you’ve ever seen. Nolan is staring up at Santa with wide eyes and his little gummy smile. They both matched as Nolan was dressed in a Santa suit onesie. He wasn’t scared and you were so glad. You bought so many copies, for around the house and to give to your family members.

Christmas 2028

“Sorry I’m late,” Mat says out of breath as he finally meets you in line.

You’re waiting to have the boys take pictures with Santa and Mat was running late with Nolan. You’re officially adding this to the list of things you wish you could avoid. By no means did you want to pretend to be some happy family while you and Mat are split up. You try to focus on the Christmas music playing from the speakers, and the bustling crowd as they’re all full of joy.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, rocking Angel in your arms. He’s a bit frazzled by all the noise in the crowded mall.

“You look pretty,” he compliments you and for once his words aren’t hesitant.

“Mathew, please,” you warn, turning away from him. You’re not necessarily mad at him anymore, but you just want to keep the distance between the two of you. Things are already so messy, you don’t want to complicate things further. Not to mention, if he gets any closer to you, you know he’ll figure out that you’re pregnant and you cannot have that happening right now.

“What? I can’t compliment my wife. It’s not like I’m lying, you look beautiful. You always do, but you’re glowing and I just wanted to tell you,” he explains, wrapping an arm around your stomach to pull your back to his chest.

You quickly pull away, eyes glaring at him.

“Let me remind you that we’re not actually together right now. Please don’t compliment me or touch me. I’m only here because of the boys,” you spit out, turning your head so he doesn’t see the tears lining your eyes.

He stays quiet in either embarrassment or sadness, you don’t bother looking into it.

When it’s finally your turn for pictures, you breathe a sigh of relief.

“So how are we going to pose?” Mat asks, this time hesitantly.

“We’re not posing. Just the boys are going to be in the pictures this year,” you say, trying not to look at Mat’s crestfallen face. It’s tradition for your family to take pictures with Santa all together.

“Why? We’ve never not taken pictures without us in them,” he says in a low tone, but you can tell he’s pissed.

“I’m not going into detail right now. Just get Nolan ready while I get Angel ready,” you say, making sure Angel’s outfit is straightened out.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, I’m trying really hard here and you’re just ruining everything,” Mat whispers in your ear, trying not to alarm anyone who is nearby.

You turn to him, this time the tears are visible in your eyes. You just stare at him in surprise. You weren’t expecting that from him. You quickly inhale a deep breath, handing Angel over to Santa as Mat does the same with Nolan.

“Okay, boys, smile!” The cameraman says. Nolan is smiling wide, but Angel bursts into tears just as the camera clicks.

“I’ll hold him while you take the picture,” Mat interjects as you’re about to step in to grab your crying baby.

You watch as Mat sits next to Santa, Angel- who’s calm now is sitting on his daddy’s lap with a little gummy smile as he’s getting tickled. Your boys look so handsome, dressed in their Christmas best with their little bow ties. You can’t help but let your eyes roam over Mat. He’s dressed in an all black button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his wedding band on display from where his hand rests on Angel’s stomach. His smile is as beautiful as it always is, and if you didn’t know him so well, you wouldn’t have realized that his eyes don’t match the feigned happiness.

The camera clicks again and you discreetly wipe away a tear. Mat is right, you’re ruining everything.

Mat seems to catch your silent breakdown and calls for you to join them. He knows you’re going through it and that his words didn’t particularly help the situation.

You quickly get to them, pick up Nolan and set him on your lap as you all pose together for the final picture. You try not to let the fact that your wedding ring is nowhere to be seen ruin your pictures.

After paying for all your copies, Mat carries both boys back to your car. It’s a silent walk but you expected as much.

You keep to yourself as Mat gets the boys settled in their car seats, talking with Nolan and listening to Angel’s little babbles. He kisses them many times before finally closing the car door and turning to you.

You bid a quick goodbye with an awkward wave, but he stops you from getting into the car. He slightly shoves the door back closed, giving you no choice but to face him.

“What am I doing wrong?” His voice is strained and you’re not sure how long you can stare at him without throwing yourself in his arms. You’re craving his affection.

“What are you talking about?” You stall.

“You know what I’m talking about. If this is still about the fight we had, we can work through it. I truly didn’t mean to offend you and I wish you’d let me help us fix things. I can’t go on like this. You flipped out when I touched you back there and you’ve never done that before and it killed me. Please just let me touch you. Please let me fix us,” he pleads, pulling you into his arms.

For a split second, you start to cave, but then you remember that you’re pregnant. He still doesn’t know and you really don’t want him to figure it out on his own. You know that if he’s close to you for longer than he has been the past couple of months, he’d realize the changes in your body. He just knows you that well. You need to get away from him. There’s a time and place for you to have that talk, and right here, right now isn’t it.

“I’m sorry, Mathew. I need to get home. Please get home safe,” you pull away, pushing a hand into his chest and quickly getting into your car and pulling out of the parking lot.

Mat takes a few moments in the driver’s seat of his car, trying to collect his thoughts. He’s pissed with you for pushing him away and refusing to fix things, and he’s pissed with himself for saying things without thinking about what he’s saying or how he’s saying it. He just wants to hold you. He misses your warmth and the feel of your skin on his. Don’t even get him started with how beautiful you looked. You’re always beautiful to him, of course, but today your skin was glowing and your boobs were peeking out from your top and he just misses you so bad. You actually looked like you usually do when you’re pregnant, and it makes Mat reminisce on simpler times.

Christmas 2029

“Look at my pretty princess,” your husband coos, lifting Sloane in his arms. She scrunches her legs up and you hear Mat gush over her cuteness.

“The pretty princess needs to eat,” you interrupt their moment, bringing Sloane into your arms, pulling down the shoulder of your top and letting her attach to your nipple.

“Look at my sexy wife. I love you,” Mat whispers in your ear, kissing the side of your neck.

“I love you, so much,” you lean up, puckering your lips for a kiss. He quickly obliges.

“Kith!” Angel comes toddling in, arms up so someone can pick him up.

“Yes, kisses for you, too, bub,” Mat gives him a kiss then leans him towards you so you can give him a kiss.

“Ready to see Santa?”

“Anta? No!” AJ giggles, hiding his face in Mat’s neck.

“Oh boy,” you sigh, hoping he doesn’t throw a tantrum.

“I’m going to get them buckled in. You two meet me at the car,” he gives you one last kiss and dashes out the room.

“I don’t remember this being so difficult,” Mat says in line for pictures. You got there thirty minutes ago, but it was packed to the brim. Adding a third kid to the mix makes things that much more complicated. Yes, it’d be easier to hire someone to take these pictures in your home, but you want to keep up the tradition.

“Good thing Sloane is still asleep. If she gets woken up from her nap, she will go ballistic,” you respond.

“Mommy, I don’t want to see Santa,” Nolan says, pouting at you and Mat.

He is still iffy about Santa being that he had a “dream” of you kissing the man in red.

“Honey, I promise it was just a dream. You don’t have to worry,” you assure him.

“Yeah, Nolie bear. Mommy only gives me kisses,” Mat adds.

“And me and Lo and AJ,” Nolan corrects him.

“Yes, baby. Only you guys,” you say and he continues to pout. You try to ignore it, because you don’t want him to start acting bratty about it.

When your photo session rolls around, Nolan is first to get settled. He’s right next to Santa. You and Mat place Sloane and Angel on Santa’s lap. You fix each of your babies’ outfits, making sure their hair isn’t going crazy and that their spirits are bright by tickling their tummies. You make your way to Mat, fixing a strand of his hair and adjusting the collar of his button up. You give him a chaste kiss and quickly sit down and pose next to your husband and on the opposite side of where Nolan is sitting.

The first photo would’ve been perfect, but Nolan is caught glaring at the poor man.

The next one is nice, though, because Nolan finally looks at the camera. However, it’s when you and Mat walk away for the kids to take a photo without you both that things get crazy.

Sloane realizes she isn’t in your or her daddy’s arms, so she starts wailing. Her wails eventually set off Angel, so you now have a picture of two crying babies squirming on Santa’s lap while Nolan is giving him the side eye.

“You kissed my mommy!” Nolan jumps down from where he was seated, arms crossed over his chest.

You gasp in surprise, a hand over your mouth to stop your laugh. Santa looks up at you and Mat, clearly not knowing how to respond.

“No anta! No anta! Mama,” Angel calls out for you, but you and your husband are already picking them up in your arms.

“I am so sorry. They’re a bit wild today,” Mat says to the man as he tries to calm Sloane down by rocking her in his arms.

“Not my first rodeo, so it’s totally fine,” the man says.

Your family moves to the line to pay and pick up your photos, still trying to soothe your children.

“Are you okay, my love?” You look down at Nolan while he grasps your hand tightly.

“I’m sorry. I got angry for a little,” Nolan whispers, eyes downcast.

“I love you, little man,” Mat jumps in when you fail to find the right words. You didn’t feel the need to berate him, but you also just didn’t know what to say.

“I love you, daddy. I love you, mommy.”

“I love you, Nolie bear,” you lean down and press a kiss to his puckered lips.

“Lo and AJ didn’t like Santa either,” Nolan points out.

You and Mat let out a laugh, low enough to not disturb the new found peace of your two little ones.

“No they didn’t, baby,” you giggle.

“These are going to be the best Santa pictures yet,” Mat whispers in your ear, pulling your body into his chest.

“Oh yeah. Angry babies and Santa Claus are a perfect combination. We oughta make them into Christmas cards and send them to everyone,” you joke, smiling wide at the sound of your husband’s laughter. You feel an overwhelming sense of happiness basking in his warmth and his overall presence. A year ago things were rocky, and you weren’t sure how life was going to turn out. You’re just glad that everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be. You and Mat together with your three babies, just as in love as you two were during your first pictures with Santa.

a/n: Enjoy!!!!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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reveluving · 1 year

Note

I AM BACK AGAIN WITH MY HEAD IN HANDS AND HORNY BRUCE WAYNE ON MY MIND I NEED THAT MAN ABSOLUTELY INSANELY DESPERATE FOR BATMOM. SOMETHINNG ABOUT THE URGE.... DELICIOUS

BRB MICROWAVE NOISES ARE HAPPENING IN MY HEEEEAD 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

writing milf!Batmom was bound to happen at some point lol I was waiting for the day to finally happen fr fr SO HERE ❤

warnings: smut (18+ content, minors DNI!)

Look, with that many kids in the household, did you really think no one's going to talk about how sexy of a mother Mrs Wayne is?

Don't get me wrong, Bruce being called a DILF is not uncommon! Just look at him; a rich and respectable hunk of a man, who is also a father of six children and counting? So much hotter than when he was known as a playboy all those years ago. It was only natural for the public to talk about the missus in question as well.

Who could've possibly been the one to finally tame the Bruce Wayne and better yet, encouraged him into the married life?

You, obviously, and boy, did the public understand why.

No matter how much the media tries to deny it, they can never ignore your beauty, your grace, and dare I say, your MILF-ness.

C'mon, everyone's eyes were always on you the second you'd step foot into the gala. Oh, Mrs Wayne is here, in her new silky, silt-cut dress, matchint heels and jewellery that complements your every feature?

Sign me the fuck up!

You may have acknowledged the reputation bestowed upon you, but what you didn't realized was just how strong that power was.

But, of course, your reputation comes with a bit of a price to pay. Not by you, but by your children.

If there was one thing Dick, Jason and Tim were especially too familiar of hearing, especially on social media, it's about you, and the Internet can be very open with their thoughts. People are getting too comfortable on the app, as one would say.

While there was no denying that you were in fact beautiful, they were still your sons, and to see such language about you was almost as traumatic as seeing you and Bruce fooling around in bed.

• 'Mrs Wayne is so hot??? HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN HER IN THOSE HEELS??? GYAT'

• 'I've seen her IRL when I was visiting her café and let me tell you; photos do NOT DO HER JUSTICE 🥵'

• 'If my future husband and I don't give Bruce and (Y/N) Wayne energy, I don't want it ☝🏼🤨'

• 'mrs wayne's thighs appreciation: a thread that will having you SCREAMING [includes 10+ photos]'

That last one in particular had an intimidating number of likes, mind you. As if their own set of fans weren't a lot to deal with already.

But hoho, if we're talking about Bruce Wayne's opinion on the matter?

Picture this.

It's like watching an edit of your favourites; going from a random video of you adorably scrunching up your nose to BAM—a slow-mo of you looking like a literal model. How or where anyone's ever gotten that footage from was uncertain, but if you asked Bruce if he's ever seen that video before?

Chances are, he'd say yes.

Repeatedly, even.

Hell, he might've saved it somewhere, amongst other 'tresures', for educational purposes.

He acknowledges the fact that you may be a teenage boy's fantasy, the dream trophy wife of many men, regardless if they were in their lonesome or in a tasteless marriage, but in the end of the day, you were his, just as he was yours.

And while he has the means to save your most intimate moments via his greatest machines, he actually prefers the good ol' polaroid. Saving at least a couple of boudoir photos in his pocket, wallet, the Batmobile, locked away in one of the Batcomputer's rack and much more. Whether they're photos of you lying on your stomach cross-legged in your lingerie, or even a picture of the two of you, glistening in sweat and naked in front of the mirror, he never ran short of his precious 'supplies', and he has more where that came from.

Knowing he was the only one able to not only see you, but make you writhe and scream and cum in his bed—in your bed, around his cock? He could die a happy man, truly. And he'll do just about anything you ask him to, no question?

Want his fingers inside you while he smothers his face in between your breasts? Certainly.

Want him to lie back so you can straddle his face and make you cum with that talented tongue of his? You don't have to tell him twice.

Want him to take your dress and lingerie off so slowly, even though his cock is aching to be touched by those sweet hands of yours? Say no more.

That man is always hungry for you, borderline desperate even, but what's new.

But, if it ever goes down to you, or when the public gets too comfortable voicing out, especially in front of you, and it clearly rubs you the wrong way, best believe he'll do something about.

He doesn't need the comments of others to know how sexy of a woman his wife really is, after all.

I wanted to write smut for this, considering it is a milf!batmom after all, but we all know how long it takes for me to do that HAHA I hope y'all still liked this one tho! Please don't forget to leave some sugar! ❤

#— reve's reverie 🌹#— reve's asks 🌹#a mother's touch series #batmom #batmom reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x batmom #batman x batmom #batman x you #batman x reader #batman

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harlowtales · 30 days

Text

Paparazzi knew puppy’s name and Y/N was left to her own devices 😤 🐶

18+ Only - Adult themes, Language

“Hey baby” Jack said calling early on FaceTime. It was early morning where he was on tour in New Zealand.

“You look so sexy and groggy.” You said admiring how gorgeous your husband always looks. He took off his bonnet and shook out his curls causing your heart to flutter.

“Stop looking at me like that Y/N that’s how we got Ella.” Jack said cautioning you. You had a little boy from a previous relationship and Jack accepted him fully as his own. “Where’s my little muffin and my boy?”

“Well Jax is at school and Ella is right here. She just finished nursing.” You said happily and showed Jack baby Ella half passing out, and smiling at the breast.

“Funny how our happy place is the same.” Jack said wistfully happy to get a peak at your boob.

“You’re so silly!” You giggled. “I miss you so much”

“I miss you guys like crazy but some people don’t want to pull their kids out of school to go on a world tour.” Jack said with an eye roll and still feeling a way about you making that decision.

“Stability Jackman. It’s all about stability.” You said taking a stretch. “I better get moving. I’m meeting Azura for a walk.”

Just then Lil puppy Lou Lou came bounding up and licked you in the face. Jack was thrilled to see her. She woke up Ella drifting off but she was happy anyway. Ella was always happy unless she was tired and then she’d fuss and rub her head of chestnut curls. She rarely fully cried and was almost sleeping through the night.

“Aight my baby tell Jax I love him and don’t worry about his math test ok. I’ll call y’all later. Your husband said. He made a naughty gesture just before he signed off.

“Jackman! I swear!” You yelled to a blank screen as he vanished. “Daddy looks too good Imma have to be careful before I have 10 y’all” you said to Ella who looked like she was gearing up to go out for a walk.

You took a quick shower and slipped into your favourite hoodie of Jack’s, some yoga pants, and your one of many pairs of New Balances. Today it was Carolina blue 550s because you were missing your man bad. You slipped Ella’s wiggly chubby legs into a New Balance jumper and got the leash on Lou Lou.

“Hey girl!!” You said excitedly to Urban’s girlfriend Azura. Little man is getting big!” You said ruffling their son Liam’s hair.

“Yes he is girl and getting like his daddy wanting to take pictures of everything. We got him a toy camera and he carries it around his neck everywhere like Urb.” Azura said looking down lovingly at 4 year old Liam.

Liam wandered a bit away as you chatted with Azura. Suddenly you heard him talking a few feet away to a lady who was asking questions about his toy.

“Hey there little guy I like your camera” She said with a smile and had a cute dog with her that Liam petted. Azura was watching and everything seemed fine. Liam loved dogs and nothing seemed wrong. It was a beautiful sunny day and lots of people were out walking with dogs.

“Liam be gentle with the puppy ok?” Azura cautioned as he politely asked to pick it up and the owner agreed.

“It’s fine.” The lady said “Hey, you’re Jack Harlow’s fiancée….Y/N isn’t it? And Baby Ella so adorable with puppy Lou Lou. Nice to see you enjoying this beautiful day.”

Both you and Azura froze with a bad feeling. They had been following you and poor little Liam walked right into the trap because the lady had a dog and seemed nice.

“Liam hunny put the doggy down we have to go.” Azura said sternly and cautiously.

“I’m not answering any of your questions.” You said firmly to the paparazzi and turned to leave.

“Well I bet the world will like to see how rude one of the hottest stars’s fiancee is.” They said taunting you.

Azura made a sudden move to jump on the lady and caused a scene. Urban wasn’t under as much scrutiny as Jack so him and his family didn’t have to go through people following them. Jack had trained you how to be in public and around the media. You leaped in front of Azura to prevent her doing anything foolish.

“Well one of you has some sense! I would sue you!” The lady spat back.

“….and we would sue yo ass right back bitch!” Azura clapped back

While the back and forth with the sneaky paparazzi and Azura was going on you had discreetly emergency dialled Andy an “sos” message. It was something Jack had set up for your safety. Andy’s secretary sent police to your location. You stalled the lady until they got there. Let me tell you something.” You said calmly to the lady maintaining your composure “Tell all your slimy fellow bottom feeders that make a living off of this that me and my family, including my husband are not taking any shit and WE will be suing YOU.”

Everyone in town knew who you were but only a small circle knew the puppy’s name. Someone must have told someone else and that someone else was paid off. A small crowd had gathered which made it difficult for the lady to take off running. Police were carefully approaching so as not to provoke her to flee. You saw them coming. You and Azura kept her talking with Azura continuing to intimidate her which she was much better at than you.

“Listen bitch, you don’t get to talk to people’s kids like that with your rented dog and pretend you’re friendly. That’s like attempted kidnapping.” Azura said angrily holding onto Liam who was scared.”

“Get over yourself lady. Nobody even knows who you are.” The paparazzi argued with Azura.

“They know me on twitch bitch!” Azura shot back as she was one of the biggest gamers.

Police were behind her without her knowing and heard the whole conversation.

“Look behind you.” You said smugly to her. She turned and realized she was under arrest.

“I didn’t try to kidnap no kid!!!” The lady paparazzi yelled. “I’m just doing my job!! Let go of me!” She said as police cuffed her and walked her away.

The call you were dreading coming in started lighting up your screen with your husband’s picture. You hesitated to answer. “Y/N dafuq is going on? Are y’all ok?” He said right away with Urban right beside him. “They knew pup’s name?”

“Azura? Liam? Daddy’s right here!” Urban shouted concerned and on the verge of tears.

“Bro call your chick on her phone.” Jack said to him annoyed.

“Jack we are fine see? Wave to daddy Ella, wave pups.” You said as cheerfully as possible and Azura waved too as Urban called her.

“Jack it’s all good we’re fine.” You said calmly not wanting him to know how you were really feeling.

“Nice try Y/N. I invented that whole never show people how you’re screaming inside type shit.” Jack said catching you in the act of trying to appear unbothered. I need Ella where is she?” He asked trying to see into the stroller. “Y/N why are you not holding her close right now with wackos on the loose and why are y’all still out?? Go back home please, and call when you get in.” Said Jack cooing with Ella and being strict with you. “Now Y/N”.

“Ok ok we’re headed back in.” You said irritated your one day out in a while turned into this.

“Listen I’ll have one of boys pick y’all up and take you to my parents. My mom is losing her mind right now. Ella and Lou Lou can play in the back yard.” Jack said in full dad mode. “Go pick up Jax first ok? You need to tell him before he finds out and make sure he’s not scared.”

All you wanted to do was go for a walk. Being Mrs. Harlow was not going to be easy. You didn’t like how firm Jack was with you and felt like he thought you weren’t being responsible enough. You hated when he got like this. “Oh and I love you too.” You said sarcastically. “Bye Jack.”

“Wait..I’m..I’m sorry baby. If you were hurt, if Ella…I can’t…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bark at you. I just…” He paused and was holding back tears. “I love you ok?” He finally finished looking away and trying to keep it together.

“Jack I’m sorry. I snapped at you.” You apologized. You knew he loved you.

“Please get little man, take Azura and Liam home, and sleep at my parents house tonight. Please Y/N.” Jack begged. Seeing him soften up made you feel warm inside.

“Ok baby whatever you need for peace of mind but I’m fine. Really.” You said.

“Yeah she not a little bitch like you!” Urban said getting off the phone with Azura and his son.

“Will you two get off my phone!” You giggled.

@itsyagirljaz @okaaay-mice @ride4harlow

#jack harlow #fanfic #romance #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow fanfic #dramatic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x reader #Spotify

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pctterswprld · 6 months

Text

vena amoris

pairing: draco malfoy x slytherin!fem!zabini!reader

request: ok hello hello hello 😵‍💫 i have a request but only if u write for draco!! if not, please do ignore this.

i was kind of brain-rotting about this for a while now, so hear me out even if this might not be the best description ever. T__T

so, reader could be in the same house or not, this isn’t exactly a huge part of the plot. but draco has kind of been crushing on reader for a while, but reader keeps pushing him away—in a sense that they would keep denying draco’s attempts at wooing them, and would constantly reject anything he gets them (firm believer of draco's language being gift giving, at least one of them)

so clearly draco is like so whipped he grows so out of character and gets teased by his peers 😭 the ending is up to you, but i picture this as a fluffy (maybe the pushing away contributes to a bit of an angst factor) fourth or fifth year draco fic. your writing is so muah, by the way 🫂 much love, xx! ~ anon.

word count: 5,269 words (woah)

warnings: FLUFF, reader is blaise's twin (slay), a shit ton of swearing (sorry), theodore nott smoking his iconic cigarettes, reader kissing draco at the end, not proofread!

author's note: IM SO BAD WITH WARNINGS SO PLS LMK IF I MISSED ANYTHING. i kind of included high valyrian (as in the language from game of thrones + house of the dragon) bc im currently in my asoiaf era so YEAH. also, anon, i'm sorry if i botched this, i kind of messed up the end but this has been sitting in my inbox for so long; I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOY<3

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AS SNAPE DRONED on about Wit-Sharpening Potions and their advantages, you began fiddling with your silver bracelets, seeming to zone out of the lesson as the thought of dragons entered your mind. Your tongue licked your bottom lip rimmed with strawberry-flavoured gloss whilst you acted as if you were paying attention, flitting your eyes over to the back of Professor Snape’s greasy-haired head.

At this moment in time, you were bored out of your mind. There was nothing more riveting than the words of your historic fiction books, often containing stories about families with the blood of their dragons running through their veins. Instead, you were here in Potions class, preparing for your approaching OWLs, your chin resting in the palm of your hand as your eyelids fought to stay open. You did not even have the comforts of your twin brother, the well-revered Blaise Zabini, who had begun skipping class to see his “greatest love” (his words, not yours), Luna Lovegood. Others thought her to be a strange girl, especially because her mother was a powerful witch. Though Pandora Lestrange (who had never fitted in with her family) was known for her skills and her friendship with Regulus Black, she married Xenophilius Lovegood, who was now the editor of the Quibbler. He was stranger than his daughter, and many students theorised that it was him who filled Luna’s head with such… Such bizarre assumptions.

You, much to one’s dismay, quite liked the fourth year. Luna was often correct with her words and had interesting stories about her mother, to whom you had admired dearly.

Thankfully, something had caught your gaze. Unfortunately, it seemed to be much worse than the lecture you were enduring. Your eyes widened at the sudden appearance of a paper sparrow, the bird flying around in the air as it landed in the palms of your hands. You pulled a face, glimpsing at the faces around the godforsaken dungeon before stopping at a particular platinum-haired, blue-eyed boy, gazing at you with a goofy grin as the confusion written on your face contorted into vast annoyance.

The boy you met eyes with was the one and only Draco Malfoy. Son of the ‘wonderful’ Lucius Malfoy and beautiful Narcissa Black, he would’ve been raised with privileged views about the wizarding world, uttering vile words against those ‘below’ him and his maniacal pureblood ancestry. Quite frankly, you had hated Malfoy ever since first year, regretting you had ever spoken to him because now…

Now he would not leave you be.

It had been five years since your first encounter. Draco had ensured that over the course of the half-decade, he’d never leave your holy presence. You could not, for the life of you, figure out what his obsession with you was about. Yes, you were pureblooded. Yes, you were Slytherin. Everything else about you did not, at all, reflect his persona.

Except, perhaps, his ever-repeating threats. The only difference between yours and his words against others was that you always had the will to act on them.

You were never one for affection. In the five years you’d been in this school, you hadn’t obtained a single crush. Kisses were shared in your fourth year with a Ravenclaw, but that was it. Your mother, the famed woman who had married seven husbands, but had died tragically and had left her with mounds of gold, had always taught you to not waste your time with boys in your academic years, for they were merely children. Instead, you should wish for a man, one like your father (who was also dead, but had died because of a disease when you and Blaise were young. Your mother still yearned for his presence daily).

You didn’t bother opening up the sparrow, knowing that it merely contained his one-hundredth love confession. What you did in reply was a little cruel, but you did not care. Instead, you crumpled the bird into a little ball right before him, seeing Draco’s expression crumble as you wore your signature sarcastic smile, throwing the paper ball behind you, huffing before looking back at Snape, who now had eyes on you.

“Miss Zabini,” Snape sounded out quietly, you realising that he had just witnessed you discard parchment across his floor. “Another brilliant display of Slytherin’s impeccable manners, I see,” he reprimanded, sarcasm encasing his tone as you refrained from correcting him. “Perhaps you’d like to continue this performance by littering the entire dungeon, just to make sure everyone is fully aware of your utter disregard for cleanliness and decorum.”

You pressed your lips together, hearing the quiet sniggers from other houses enter your ears as you exhaled through your nose, meeting Draco’s stare before glancing at Snape.

“I apologise, Professor,” you replied meekly, though not regretfully. Snape recognised this, but he did not say anymore, returning to what he said prior the supposed interruption.

Sighing to yourself after hearing another cry for your attention, you turned your head at the sudden ‘psst!’ from across the dungeon, the irises of your eyes growing dark as Draco shot you a wink. The sudden glint of his silver snake ring caught your eye, causing you to raise an eyebrow out of interest. Yet, you regained composure, tutting at his behaviour, staring at him no longer.

Draco Malfoy would be the death of you. The funniest thing of all was that he would not be delighted if such things ever came to be true.

In the corners of the Great Library, you sat alone, your eyes widened with amazement as you whispered the words of a foreign language unbeknownst to many, smiling as you began to uncover the secrets of your fictitious world. However, from across your table, Draco and his small band of friends (consisting of Theo, Blaise, and Pansy) sat with their own share of textbooks. They did not, of course, share the same interest as you did. Draco kept a watchful eye, his chin resting in the palms of his hands, the pupils of his blue eyes dilating into hearts as Theo and Pansy shared a disgusted look. They weren’t disgusted by you, but Draco’s continuous rants about you.

“Merlin, isn’t she gorgeous?” Draco murmured, practically drooling over the pages of some novel as Blaise snatched it from under him, shaking his head as he sighed.

“I know that. She is my sister,” Blaise grumbled, his knuckles resting on his forehead. He whispered into Theodore’s ear, extremely bothered. “I cannot take this love-sick nonsense any longer—”

“You aren’t very good at whispering,” Pansy mocked, twirling her quill as she leaned into her seat, smirking at the fact that Draco hadn’t heard a single word.

“You’re acting like you hadn’t been doing the same with Lovegood the last month,” Theo pointed out, matching Pansy’s smugness as Blaise rolled his eyes.

“I haven’t been following Luna around for the last five years!” Blaise retorted, leaning back in his seat as he watched Draco twist his ring around his finger.

“She was staring at my ring earlier. Should I give it to her?” Draco suggested, no one paying attention to him as Pansy piped up.

“Perhaps I would be a better match for [Y/N/N],” Pansy joked, getting a reaction out of both Draco and Blaise.

“NO!” They said simultaneously, causing Pansy to tsk as she rested her legs on the edge of the wooden table. Draco then stood up, taking in a deep breath as Blaise furrowed his eyebrows at him. He would have protested, but Draco had already sauntered off towards your desk.

“Balerion... Zȳhon perzys iksin hae zōbrie hae zȳhon ñelly, zȳhon tīkuni sīr rōvabona giez lenton sia ipradārin bē isse pōja sȳndor skori ziry rēbagon,” you read fluently, biting your bottom lip from smiling ever so widely as you read the Valyrian words with awe. Your necklace dangled from your neck, hitting the constant stripes of your loose, Slytherin tie as you looked up suddenly, hearing someone clear their throat.

“Merlin’s left fucking tit,” you seethed, snapping your book shut as you met the one and only Draco Lucius Malfoy with a hard gaze, pushing your novel away from the platinum-haired boy so it didn’t feel his stench.

“Hello, [Y/N],” Draco replied, his voice ten times softer than yours (was your tone ever gentle?) as you ran your hands through your hair.

“I do not understand why you keep bothering me—”

“A gift,” Draco interjected, aggravating you even more as he took out his left hand, removing his ring that bore a snake. You furrowed your eyebrows, realising that it was the same ring you had eyed earlier and you stood up abruptly, looking up at his towering figure.

“A-are you serious—?” you began, disbelieved.

“I know how much you like your accessories and this would look great with your Yule Ball dress—”

“I do not want the stupid ring and I’m not even going to the—”

“It would look better on you than on me—”

“Shut up,” you groaned, not understanding how gravely Draco felt for you as he became quiet almost immediately, almost like an obedient dog. You were a little surprised, but you feigned nonchalance. “Listen, I appreciate the offering, but I looked at it for not even ten seconds! That does not mean I actually want it, Malfoy.”

Draco remained silent, almost like he was contemplating her words as her chest heaved of simmered frustration. And then, he nodded, giving you a brief smile before turning around, heading towards the Library’s exit. You pulled another face, irritated beyond compare before stuffing your hands in the pockets of your robes.

That was until you felt a cold metal in the right one.

You pulled it out, cursing under your breath as your head cocked towards Draco’s friend group, where your brother also sat. Scoffing at Draco’s notion, your feet carried you to Blaise, where you slammed the ring on his table, causing Theodore to sit completely upright.

“Well, hello there, love—” Theodore began with his deep voice, only to be swatted on the head by Blaise.

“Blaise, I swear on Salazar’s grave, if you do not get Malfoy to leave me alone, I will feed your organs to our dead stepfather,” you hissed, leaning forward as Pansy bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to grin.

“Which one?” Blaise remarked, his eyes still trained on his book as you snatched it out of his hands, giving him a warning look as he sighed. “Just accept the ring—”

“NO!” You yelled, leaving the ring on the table as you thudded the novel against its wood before Theodore, once again, jumped at the noise as you left, leaving a vexed Blaise, an exasperated Irma Pince (who had flinched at the sudden outburst, and Pansy), who seemed to be falling in love with you every second.

As the soles of your Doc Martens entered your Common Room the following week, you made your way over to the couch, rubbing your wrists because of the hair ties that had strangled them. Your gaze had been on them the entire time, so long that as soon as you looked up, a few stares were coming your way, wrinkling your eyebrows as you looked them up and down. It was natural for some Slytherins—mostly girls—to dislike you purely because of Blaise. Not your twin specifically, but they were jealous of the attention you received from his friends, Theodore and Draco. It was the same for Pansy, even though (as much as you admired her) she had been horrible to everyone she’s ever met.

In all respects, you were not rude. You just didn’t like talking with people. A totally understandable prospect, right?

Back to the situation at hand, you had just approached the couch, freezing when you saw the amount of people huddled around an object on the sofa. You tutted, weaving your way past, most likely stepping on someone’s toes. You only wanted to sit down and rest your feet.

“Salazar’s sakes, can you move—?!” You began to raise your voice, but your words quickly died down in your throat, noting the extremely large package resting on the velvet cushions of the emerald couch. You glanced at the girl beside you, recognising her to be Daphne Greengrass, who smiled slightly before handing you an envelope.

“It’s for you…” She nodded awkwardly, giving the box a glance before turning away from you. You looked at the envelope, seeing that the seal wax was in your favourite colour, the actual symbol being a dragon.

Curious, you opened it, your fingers lightly grazing the parchment as your eyes moved along the page, the cursive letters peaking your curiosity. There was a dry flower taped to the note and you picked it off with care, the corners of your mouth briefly curling when you saw your favourite rose, looking fresh.

‘Dearest [Y/N],

I hope this note finds you well. As the annual ball approaches, I wanted to extend an invitation to you. I've chosen a dress and jewellery set that I believe would compliment your elegance and beauty. Please consider it a gesture of goodwill, with no expectations or strings attached.

I wanted to offer this gift and extend an olive branch in the hope that we can enjoy a pleasant evening together, even if it's just as friends. If you still decide not to attend with me, I completely understand and respect your choice.

Wishing you happiness and looking forward to whatever the future holds for us, whether as friends or acquaintances.

Sincerely,

D.M.’

“How romantic,” Pansy’s voice suddenly appeared against your ear, a smirk tugging on her lips as she looked you up and down, seeing you eye the box with agitation. You cock your head to face her, your lips pressing together.

“Go away, Pans,” you mumbled, scrunching the note up as you shoved it in your pocket. You kept the rose, however, safely in your other pocket, too pretty to be destroyed. You picked up the box, throwing a look to whoever else that dared to gawk at you before descending up the staircase towards your dorm with a huff.

“Did she like it?” Draco’s voice suddenly boomed in Pansy’s ear as she jumped, pushing the blonde boy away, still gazing at where you had gone.

“She hasn’t even opened it, you twat,” Pansy retorted, walking past him as she made her way towards Theo, giving him a pleading look as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips.

“What?” He asked in a hushed voice, but immediately widened his eyes when Draco began nearing them. “Shit—”

“Did she like the rose?” Draco asked once more, his gaze becoming frantic as he looked at the stairwell. Theo pinched the bridge of his nose, stubbing out his cigarette as he tossed it aside.

“I mean, she kind of smiled—”

“She smiled?!” Draco guffawed, his lips curving into a wide grin as he sighed dreamily, sitting on the armchair beside Theo. Both Pansy and Theo shared another look as the short-haired girl sucked in a breath, forcing a smile on her lips.

“I wouldn’t say that, Draco. Like, she was a little flattered that someone knew her favourite flower—”

“Rose.”

“Flower,” Pansy repeated, feeling irked as she crossed her arms. “But the smile dropped as soon as she saw it was you who gave her the dress.”

“She smiled,” was all Draco said, gleeful as he leaned into his seat, staring at the ceiling as he began to daydream.

“Fucking hell,” Theo muttered, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his brown hair. “What are we gonna do with this kid?”

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”

You had unwrapped the box. You had taken out the dress. You had taken out the jewellery, as well as the shoes and whatever else. You expected to hate everything in the gift box, predicting that you would’ve shredded the gown to pieces by now

But this guy had bought a dress so ethereal that it had suited all your tastes. You were satisfied with what was in front of you.

Donned with sequins, the dress was in a mermaid-cut style, which would’ve accentuated your curves perfectly. The bodice had a perfected pleated detailing on the waist, the gems glowing under the light of your room as your fingers itched to trail across the silk. The gown featured romantic puff sleeves which would line up your chest with a flattering square neckline. Overall, it was an airy dress that reached to the floor, creating a beautiful silhouette that would make you glow, the ivory satin of the dress increasing your beauty since it contrasted with your skin tone perfectly.

The jewellery was a whole different story. Draco had bought stones so expensive that you didn’t think you’d be able to wear them, the necklace could potentially weigh your neck down. The actual diamonds were in your favourite colour, but the crystals were silver and would rest above your cleavage excellently. There was also a matching ring with the same diamond.

Hesitantly, you reached for the ring, trying it on every finger. Shuddering, you raised your eyebrows, realising the ring would only fit on your actual ring finger. You scoffed, tossing the ring back into the box, disregarding the crème-coloured heels as you sat on the edge of your bed, head in your hands.

You were lost. This was too much. The dress was gorgeous. Simple, but exquisite. The jewellery was impeccable, and you wondered momentarily if these jewels actually belonged to the Malfoy family.

You turned your head, beginning to tug on your bottom lip with your teeth as you jigged your thighs up and down, at a crossroads. You couldn’t wear this and not go with Draco. That would just be downright cruel.

Damn, you began to think. Damn, damn, damn.

“Blaise.”

No response.

“I know you can hear me.”

No response.

“Your book is upside down.”

“I think the fuck not,” Blaise shot back, checking to see if Draco’s statement was correct. Blaise narrowed his eyes, closing them fleetingly as he jerked his head to the side, meeting the blue, wide-eyed boy’s face with exasperation.

“Stop asking me about my sister.”

“No.”

“Merlin’s fucking balls, Malfoy—”

“I just want to know if she’s going with me tonight. It’s been days since I’ve given her the dress! I haven’t gotten an answer!” Draco interjected, his hands clasped in front of him, almost as if he was begging Blaise. His best friend slumped in his seat, dropping his book onto the table before him as he placed his hands behind his head.

“I. Do. Not. Know,” Blaise reaffirmed, granting him a sarcastic smile, his eyes locking onto someone else as he let out a groan.

You had entered the study hall, eyes scanning the classroom before they landed on your twin brother. You sighed in relief, fiddling with your watch as you cursed, noting it was five minutes past six.

As you stood before Blaise, you made eye contact with Draco, curtly nodding at him as you cleared your throat.

“Where’s Pansy?” You asked quietly, looking around the room once again to see if she was there. Blaise shrugged, which didn’t help you at all. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know.When will people stop asking me questions I don’t have the answer to?” Blaise questioned, causing you to roll your eyes before you fled, rushing down the hallways towards the dungeons.

Draco was staring at Blaise expectantly, his lips pressed together as he leaned forward. “Well?”

“End my life already,” he grumbled, closing his eyes. “She nodded at you. Which means she’s going.”

“With me?”

“No. Cormac McGlaggen.”

“WHAT—?!”

“SHUT UP.”

Meanwhile, you had found Pansy making out with some girl from Hufflepuff. Sighing, you pulled her away from the girl, causing the other to feel embarrassed as Pansy pulled your hands off her.

“What’s your problem?” Pansy muttered, fixing her hair as you threw her a look, smiling once you saw that the Hufflepuff had scurried off.

“I… need a favour,” you shrugged, smiling awkwardly as your lips thinned. She pulled a face, causing you to shove her shoulder.

“What is it, then?” You puffed your cheeks, looking around the hallway as you fiddled with your hands behind your back, wanting to pull out your hair.

“Needyoutodressmyhair,” you talked under your breath, causing Pansy to furrow her eyebrows as she crossed her arms.

“Eh?” You threw your head back, staring at the ceiling as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I need you to dress my hair.”

A gasp escaped Pansy’s lips, her hands across her chest as she tilted her head, smiling mockingly as smiled at her back bitingly.

“Your first thought was me? Aw, [Y/N]!” Pansy waved you off, sighing contently, you having enough of her as you grabbed her wrist, dragging her away to your dorm.

You had waited until everyone else was gone to exit the Slytherin Common Room, already infected with nerves as you stepped carefully across the floor, slowly walking towards the Great Hall. Surprisingly, you had finished getting ready (with the help of Pansy and a lot of magic) in under two hours, leaving you enough time to make sure you didn’t trip on the way to the Yule Ball.

You didn’t know what Draco had worn, wanting to see what he looked like—only to make sure he didn’t make you look bad. Pansy had done your eye makeup since you didn’t know how, your friend going for a [Y/F/C] eyeshadow palette that winged your eyes. Your lip colour was as deep as the richest of raspberries from the Forbidden Forest. Your hair was in a braided crown, white daisies blooming in the tresses of your locks as the rest of your hair flowed down, the length ending at your middle-back. Large stones hung from your ears, matching with your necklace that felt heavy on your collarbone.

Heels clicking against the stone of the castle, you finally got to the staircase that led straight to the Great Hall. You gripped the wall anxiously, Draco’s ring on your right ring finger as you peeked around the corner, eyes softening (only slightly) once your eyes had landed on your date.

From what you could see, Draco looked as handsome as he always was—you’d never admit that to his face. Draco was dressed in a robe tuxedo, his dress shirt and bowtie the same ivory white like your gown. The buttons of his shirt sparkled under the flames of the torches in the hallway as he checked his watch, scratching his chin as he waited for you. He also wore a black cumberbund, to your astoundment, his robes as dark as the bewitched night sky in the Great Hall. Lastly, his signature snake ring, the one you refused to keep the other week in the Library, bore his middle finger on his right hand, which defined the veins in his hand as he flexed it.

Now or never, now or never, now or never, you repeated in your mind, silently stepping out of the shadows. Your heels clicked against the first step, causing Draco’s head to pick up. Your breath caught in your throat as you caught his gaze, your hands falling to your sides as you walked carefully down the staircase.

You tried so hard not to trip, but luckily for you, Draco seemed ready to catch you as he stood at the end of the stairs, catching your hand as you instinctively reached out for him. You thanked him with a small smile, steadying yourself on the ground floor as you looked up at him, his towering figure seeming to fit in with you perfectly.

“Sorry. Sort of took my time,” you mumbled, scratching the space behind your ear. Abruptly, the jewellery set Draco gifted you suddenly felt light, no longer itching your skin away as Draco’s touch warmed your hands, your fingers coincidentally on his vena amoris in his wrist—vein of love—that led to his ring finger and connected to the veins of his beating heart. You gulped, praying he didn’t know that as he smiled softly, his gloved thumb running over the palm of your right hand.

“‘s fine. I got you something,” Draco replied, catching you off guard as you hesitated, your mouth ajar.

“You’ve gotten me enough things, Malfoy,” you chuckled, averse. You didn’t want Draco to spend so much on you—must he insist on buying you things all the time?

Yet, as soon as you saw the final gift, your lips parted in astonishment, staring at the corsage that Draco had taken out of his pocket. You looked up at him, the peach of the rose pinned to the corsage gleaming at you as he watched your amazed face carefully, scanning it for confirmation before he slipped it onto your wrist. You gulped once again, your throat raw as you didn’t know what to say.

“You… you didn’t have to buy me a corsage,” you murmured quietly, staring at your painted toenails, refusing to meet his gaze as his hand moved to link your arms together.

“What kind of date would I be if I didn’t get you a corsage?” he responded gently, earning a cool blush from you, clearing your throat as you picked your head up, nodding.

Draco sensed that you didn’t want to talk anymore, noting the redness that appeared in your cheeks. He decided not to speak on it, knowing that you would probably glare him to the ground. Instead, he led you towards the Great Hall, the soft sound of organs and harps entering your ears as the corners of your lips turned upwards, entering the room with a heart rate that quickened every second.

A number of students (from fourth year and above) were in attendance. Yet, every single pair of eyes were on the pair of you. You gripped Draco’s arm tightly, glancing at him as he reciprocated, leading you to where your friend group stood. The first dance hadn’t happened yet.

“Merlin, bless your souls,” Pansy sighed, faking tears as she hung off Theo’s arm, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Fuck off,” you tutted, pressing your lips together. You eyed her appearance, relenting slightly as you mumbled. “You look pretty.”

“Thank you,” she retorted, winking at you as Blaise appeared with Luna. Luna widened her eyes in admiration, reaching out to touch your puff sleeves.

“You look beautiful, [Y/N]. Like a dove!” she complimented sweetly, Blaise nodding in agreement, but refusing to say anything. He smiled, glancing at Draco, who only had eyes for you.

“Thank you, Luna,” you smiled, the only real smile you had given today. “You looked gorgeous,” you added, raking your eyes over the light blue satin of her gown.

“Guys, the first song is going to start,” Theo announced, his arm around Pansy as he dragged her to the floor, the pair of them giggling to themselves, seeming to be a little tipsy. Blaise also kissed the back of Luna’s hand, pulling her along gently as they made their way towards the middle of the room.

You glanced at Draco, your smile still lingering as you looked at your feet.

“Would you do me the honour and grant me a dance, Miss Zabini?” Draco murmured, his tone soft as your tongue poked your cheek, utterly wordless.

“I might step on your toes,” you breathed, your voice quiet as his thumb brushed against your fingers.

“I won’t mind,” he replied, smiling as he took the lead, causing you to follow him to the middle of the hall. You looked around, copying everyone else’s movements as you wrapped your arms around his neck, staring up at him with uneasiness.

“Relax,” he whispered against your ear, your shoulders immediately losing their tenseness as his hands pressed against your hips, guiding you as your feet followed his, syncing to the slow song that played in the background as the lights dimmed. You gazed into his eyes, not wanting to stare at anyone else, aware that others were sending you looks.

“Why does every girl have to have a crush on you?” you questioned, your gaze dropping as you felt unease. Draco tutted, tilting your chin up as you swallowed imaginary air, shivering under the coldness of his glove.

“Thought you didn’t care about anyone else’s opinion,” he mused, causing you to give him a bored look.

“‘course I care. Just look at their patronising stares. It’s unnerving,” you grimaced, rolling back your shoulders as he twirled you around, his hands travelling up your waist as he picked you up, spinning you around whilst you gasped.

“I’m not looking at them. I’m looking at you,” Draco said softly, shrugging playfully as you scoffed lightly, feeling your cheeks warm once again. “You look stunning, [Y/N]. Absolutely stunning,” he whispered, his minty breath fanning against your face as your expression softened.

“Well, um, this is the gown you bought me,” you chuckled. You always felt weird whenever you accepted a compliment.

“It is,” he replied, his grin still tugging on his lips, “I may have picked out the gown, but it's you who makes it look so graceful… You are the definition of elegance, [Y/N] Zabini,” he whispered, a little breath escaping your lips as he brought you closer.

“I… I’ve hated you for so long,” you uttered, furrowing your eyebrows. “But you never gave up after the amount of times I’ve rejected you. Why?” Draco thought for a moment, taking in your delicate countenance.

“I don’t really know. I think I never gave up because I genuinely care about you. I saw something special in you, and I was willing to keep trying because I believe in us.” The entire time, Draco had kept true to his words, his voice fragile, as if he was going to break at any moment. He honestly could not believe that you had finally given him a chance.

You didn’t know what to say. You stared at him, disbelieved, tilting your head to the side as your expression faltered. And then, you knew what to do, your eyes flickering from his eyes, to his lips.

Hesitantly, you encaptured his lips with yours, your hands reaching up to his hair as Draco was taken by surprise, but kissed back nonetheless. You were never good with your words, but your actions always made up for it. Your noses touched as you mewled helplessly, allowing him to capture all of you as he smiled against your lips, almost wanting to scoop you up and take you out of here.

A flash suddenly caused you two to pull away, squinting your eyes as the pair of you turned to the side, letting go of each other as you stood there, mouth agape. Colin Creevey, a fourth year, had pictured your kiss with his rather massive camera, the younger kid smiling at the photo with satisfaction.

“Fucks sakes,” Draco grumbled at the fourth year as you picked up your dress, snatching the camera off Creevey with a stare so defiant, it could kill the Dark Lord himself.

“Hey—!”

“You people are not ruining tonight for me,” you snapped, knowing exactly who set this up, shooting Blaise and Theo a snarky smile before deleting the picture almost immediately, shoving the camera back into the boy’s arms before grasping one of Draco's fingers and leading him out of the floor, the Slytherin prince happily following behind you with an adoring smile across his lips.

The finger you just so happened to grab was his ring finger of his left hand. This very particular finger, as stated before, had a special sort of vein that growed throughout the body, stopping at the middle of Draco's heart—vena amoris.

Was it a coincidence that you took Draco's ring finger instead of his hand? I think not.

For he had fought his way into your heart for years, and now, you had entered his.

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#〔 ❦ 〕 ─── 𝐏𝐂𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐏𝐑𝐋𝐃 #〔 ও 〕 ─── 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #hp imagine #hp fanfic #hp fandom #draco lucius malfoy #slytherin

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sissylittlefeather · 3 months

Text

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 11

A/N: I'm on a roll with this one right now, so I figured I'd go ahead and publish this. ICYMI, this is the soulmate/time travel AU with Elvis and a fem!reader.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and biting 😏

Word count: ~3k

Somehow, you're pregnant with the child of Elvis Presley.

******

On March 12, 2017 you give birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. You name him John Jessie and he has your hair and Elvis's bright blue eyes. When the doctor hands him to you, you weep openly for so many reasons, but mainly because you wish Elvis could be there to see him.

And sure, you could've made a portal sometime while you were pregnant or in that first year, but you didn't. First because you were afraid he'd change his mind about staying in his time, and second because you wanted his first experience of fatherhood to be with Lisa Marie.

But once Lisa is born, you start to think about telling him. In the evenings when you rock John Jessie to sleep, the desire to let his father know about him overwhelms you. The same thing inside you that made you tell him about your engagement all those years ago is now telling you to find him and tell him about his son.

You even have the wild inclination to pack John Jessie up and bring him with you. You consider going to his time forever and just living as an unknown girlfriend. But you think about what it would mean for Elvis if anyone found out you were there with his son. His reputation would be ruined. And aside from that, you don't want to risk taking him away from Lisa Marie in any way. There's no telling how Priscilla might react if she ever found out about you.

So instead you pack up an envelope of pictures for him to see, put it in your bag filled with vintage clothes, leave John Jessie with your mom, and head to California in June of 2018. He's filming the Singer Presents Elvis special, better known now as the '68 Comeback Special, so you know exactly where to find him. Furthermore, you know he's living at the studio, so you'll be able to get to him alone more easily than if he was at home.

You don't know how he might respond to finding out he has another child, especially one that he might never get to see and definitely won't get to raise. Still, you have to risk it. He deserves to know.

******

When you get to California, you check into your hotel and get dressed. You're going to have to find a way to sneak into the studio since it's been closed to the public for a while now. You pray that fate will be on your side again, as it always has been for the two of you.

You take a cab to the studio, but the driver won't let you off in front of it. Instead you have to get out at the corner and walk over to it. You walk all the way around the large building trying to find a way in and start to get nervous that it's not going to work. You're also dodging security the whole time and you're exhausted after trying for several hours. The sun is low in the sky when you lean your back against one of the doors and almost break down crying.

******

Elvis was unbelievably nervous to begin filming for the special. In fact, he tried to refuse at the last second, but the producer insisted. After several hours of filming, he demands a break.

"I need some air." He says, looking for a door to escape and try to relax. He had finally begun to feel comfortable on stage, but there is a different kind of nervous energy possessing him now. There's a feeling in his stomach like something is about to happen, but he has no idea what it could possibly be. He gets his answer when he finally gets outside to find the buzzing sound and wavy air hovering right in front of him.

He turns and looks back at the door to the studio and then back at the portal. His life is finally starting to be what he wants. He doesn't want to leave now. And he has his child to think of. Still, he's desperate to see you, to hold you, and feel you against him. He cares for Priscilla, that is true, but his heart still belongs to you.

******

You stand there in complete shock that you were able to find a portal here outside the building. You take a deep breath, grab your suitcase, and walk through. Thankfully, he's alone when you appear out of thin air.

"Hi." You say cautiously. He's an absolute vision standing there in his black leather outfit. Your heart is beating so hard and so loud that you wonder if he can hear it. He seems to be trying to decide how to respond. "I'm sorry to just-"

In one step, he's wrapped around you with his lips pressed to yours. He takes your face in his hands and kisses both of your cheeks and then your mouth again. The scent of cologne, sweat, and cigarillos envelops you and you could cry with the familiarity of it. Neither of you has to speak to know what's being communicated. He just holds you and strokes your hair and you rest your head against his chest. You're in this position when one of his guys pokes his head out of the door.

"Hey EP they're... oh shit, sorry." He averts his eyes like you're naked or something. "They need you to come film some more."

"Okay." Elvis speaks into your hair, his voice muffled. "Come watch. I'll find you somewhere to sit."

You pull back away from him and nod. He puts his hand on the small of your back and ushers you inside. He takes your suitcase and stashes it somewhere quickly. Then, he finds you a place to sit and heads back up to the stage.

He records the sit-down portion of the show with his old band and you melt a hundred times. You haven't seen him perform for a real audience before. Its electrifying. In varying waves, your heart is filled with love and affection and then you're so turned on you could crawl up on the stage and fuck him right there in front of all these people.

You fidget with your ring to distract yourself and realize that you wore it here. You really didn't intend to, but you've been wearing it since he gave it to you, so it was habit to put it on this morning. Somewhere inside you, he's still your husband. Priscilla might have his time, but you have his heart. When you have this thought you panic for a second that she's here. You swivel your head around frantically looking for her. From the stage, he notices your mood has changed. He catches your eye and gives you the slightest inquisitive look. You mouth Priscilla? and he shakes his head ever so slightly, so you relax back into your seat. The whole exchange is less than ten seconds long and thankfully, no one notices.

Finally, they finish the set and he's done filming for the night. You stay in your seat, not sure what to do. Should you go to him? Or will he find you? You see him standing in a group of guys laughing and talking. He doesn't seem to be coming for you, so you stand up and walk slowly towards him, without an inkling of what you'll do or say when you get to him. As you get closer, you hear him.

"Nah, guys, not tonight. I have other plans tonight."

"Other plans?" One of the guys looks at him curiously. Just then, you make it to the edge of the group and he notices you.

"Ah, speak of devil. Or angel, rather." He puts his arm around your shoulders in a casual and friendly gesture. "This is y/n. She's an old friend from Tupelo. I told her I'd show her around tonight."

One of the other guys raises his eyebrows and the others shuffle around nervously.

"Oh, calm down boys. She's married." He uses his other hand to hold up your hand and show them your ring.

"Not that that ever stopped you." One of the guys jokes. Elvis moves away from you and play punches the guy that said it.

"Okay, I'll see you guys later." With that, he puts his arm around your shoulders again and walks away. On the way out, he grabs your suitcase and then leads you to the room where he's living in the studio. Once you're inside, he shuts the door and locks it and then wraps himself around you again, kissing you deeply. When he finally pulls back, he looks into your face and laughs softly.

"Good thing you're still wearing your ring."

"Yeah that would've been hard to explain after you told them I was married."

"Yes. They don't need to know it's me you're married to." He leans in and kisses you passionately again. Then he pulls back suddenly. "It is still me, right? You're not here to tell me you married some other guy again, are ya?"

"No, it's still you I'm married to." You respond, laughing. "I am here to tell you something, though."

He looks at you curiously and tries to think of what you could possibly have to report.

"What, honey?" You pull away from him and walk to your suitcase.

"I think it's better if I just show you." You pull out the envelope of pictures and hold it in your hands, your heart pounding.

"Divorce papers?" He eyes the envelope and his eyebrows knit together in concern.

"No! No, not that at all. You should sit down, though." He walks to a chair and sits down carefully.

"You're scaring me, honey." You take a deep breath and look at the ceiling. Then, you extend your arm and hand him the envelope. He opens it cautiously and pulls out the stack of pictures. The first picture is one a nurse took in the hospital of you and John Jessie together right after he was born.

He looks up at you and his face is a mix of shock and confusion. He's not able to say anything, though, so he flips to the second picture. It's one of John Jessie that you took earlier this week.

"You... you had a baby?"

"I did."

"And the baby is this old... oh God." You watch him as he puts the pieces together. He looks at the date on the back of the first one and counts the months backwards. "This is my baby."

"Yes." You almost whisper it and he looks up at you, his eyes glistening with tears.

"I have a son." You're getting choked up now too, watching him.

"You do. His name is John Jessie." He stands up and wraps his arms around you, as the tears slide down his face.

"John Jessie Presley." He whispers into your hair. Then, he sniffs and stands up, looking down at the pictures. He flips through them and smiles, seeing his little boy grow from a newborn to the almost-toddler he is right now. When he gets to the end of the stack, he has a thought.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to distract you from Lisa Marie."

"Distract me?!"

"I wanted you to be focused on her." He shakes his head, but he can't argue with it. A different thought occurs.

"Why didn't you bring him with you? Where is he?"

"He's with my mom. I couldn't bring him here."

"Why not?"

"Do I need to spell out the headline for you? Elvis Presley's secret love child?"

"Oh, to hell with that. I want to see my boy."

"Did you forget that you have a wife here? Imagine how she would react."

"Again, I don't really care. He's my child."

"I just couldn't, Elvis. I can't mess with-"

"I swear to God, if you mention the damn timeline of history again, I'm gonna-"

"What? You're gonna what, Elvis?"

"I WANT TO SEE MY CHILD." He yells at you for the first time ever. He's yelled near you before, but never directly at you because he's angry with you. You stand there defiantly, both of you breathing heavily. "Take your clothes off. We're making a portal. You're gonna go get him and come back here."

"I'm not bringing him here."

"Goddamnit, y/n, then why did you tell me?!"

"I don't know. I guess I shouldn't have!" Your eyes begin to well up.

"You're damn right you shouldn't have. Now I get to live with the knowledge that I don't get to raise my own son." With that, the dam breaks and you begin to cry. He's right. You're ready to curl up and die when it hits you and you stop crying and look up at him.

"Come back with me."

"I can't leave Lisa."

"No, not like permanently. Just come with me and see him. The portals reopen right where you left from, right?"

"Yeah I'm always right back where I was when I walked through originally. Unfortunately, because it meant I had to finish filming Spinout-"

"So then I can open a portal for you any time I want and you can come through and see him. Just for a little while and then go back!" His eyes sparkle with excitement and he picks you up and spins you around.

"Haha! Yes! I can be a part of his life!" You nod and he kisses your cheek. "Oh, thank you, y/n. God, I love you. I missed you so much."

"I love you too." He smiles and kisses you tenderly.

Then, he sets you back down on the ground and kisses you again with a renewed hunger this time, his tongue parting your lips and dipping into your mouth. His desire is contagious and before you know it you're tearing at his leather jacket while he kisses your neck. You get it off of his shoulders and rip the shirt up and over his head. He literally tears your dress at the zipper and yanks it off of you. In your uninhibited passion, you sink your teeth into his shoulder and he yelps.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry."

"Do it again." He whispers in your ear. You bite into the skin on his chest and he growls deep in his throat. He removes your bra and panties with an animalistic fervor and throws them across the room. You peel his leather pants off of him as quickly as possible and he tosses you on the couch. In a second, he's pushed into you and is pounding you with a new kind of power and confidence.

"God, yes! Yes!" You yell as he fills you over and over. He holds your hip with one hand and slams into you rhythmically. He grunts and nips at your shoulder.

"You like it when I fuck you hard, baby?"

"Mmmmm harder." You moan.

"Yes ma'am." He listens to instructions and crashes into you even harder. There's a desperate kind of passion in the way he fucks you and it's everything you've needed for the last two years. He's needed it too; you can tell by the pace of his thrusts. He kisses your mouth, hard, and you bite his bottom lip. The way he drives into you is raw and dirty and makes you scream as you come as hard as you ever have while he pumps in and out of you.

"Fuck yes." He grunts through gritted teeth as he continues to pound against your hips while you pulse around him. Finally, he succumbs to the intensity of your sex and shoots you full of his warmth. As he comes, you bite him again on the chest and he lets out a guttural groan that makes you want to climb on top and fuck him again. He's dripping sweat and it mixes with your own as he collapses on top of you, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

The portal appears and he groans and rolls off of you. You scramble off the couch and try to get your clothes together. You cannot find your bra, though, and you have to dig through your suitcase for a new dress since he ruined the one you were wearing. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and gasp. You look like a wild animal with your fucked out eyes and hair everywhere. You're desperately trying to smooth your hair when you hear a small pop and the portal disappears.

"Oh shit." He looks at you and laughs. He stops trying to get dressed, settling for just pants, and drops back down on the couch. He produces a cigarillo from somewhere and pats the couch next to him. You pick up his black shirt and pull it on over your head and then sit next to him, lightly running your fingers over the bite marks on his chest and shoulder.

"I marked you."

"It's a good thing we're going to your time. I can't go home like this." He chuckles and lights the cigarillo, taking a long drag.

"We missed the portal." You say offhandedly.

"I guess we'll just have to have sex again."

"Oh, darn." You respond playfully, taking the cigarillo and putting it in your own mouth.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I guess I can still surprise you."

"My wife, the mystery." He puts his arm around you and takes the cigarillo back.

You stay like that on the couch for most of the night, just talking and passing the cigarillo back and forth. You tell him all about John Jessie and he tells you about Lisa and how excited he is for the potential future of his career after the special. Eventually you fall asleep on his chest and wake up to a loud knocking on the door.

"Fuck." He sits up quickly.

"We're gonna start recording in an hour, EP. I know you like a warning..."

"Yeah, I'll be there." He hollers and then looks at you and puts his finger on his mouth to indicate that you should be quiet. You stand up and start to pack up your clothes from last night and lay out a dress to put on once the portal is there. He throws some clothes in a bag too and then comes up behind you and kisses your neck.

"I believe we have some work to do." You turn to face him and he kisses you deeply, walking you back to the couch again.

This time you have sex in the most married way possible and laugh at how tame it is compared to last night. But you're both satisfied and it works to make a portal, so neither of you complains. You get dressed and pick up your bags as he takes your hand. After a deep breath, you walk through the portal together and find yourselves outside the studio in 2018.

******

To be continued...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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