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endless-ineffabilities · 5 months

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Maroon (part four)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

And I lost you The one I was dancin' with In New York, no shoes Looked up at the sky and it was maroon

A series loosely based on the song Maroon of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist

series list: part one - part two - part three - part four -

themes/warnings: jealous!Aemond, language, a LOT of tension, very event-heavy

word count: 11.4k

The Dragonstone ball is here. Will the reader and Aemond finally reconcile, or will things stand in the way? Again.

It had been eleven days of bliss.

Eleven days since Aemond visited you in the bookstore, and you found him waiting for you at the corner table, perfectly illuminated like some mythical Valyrian god.

Eleven days since he confessed his feelings for you, asked you to be his partner to the Dragonstone Ball.

Afterward, he had started picking you up from lectures, taking you to places around the city, visiting you more frequently, shadowing you when you spend time with Helaena, to which she would simply roll her eyes and jest about being a “third wheel.”

You found yourselves in their secluded estate an hour away from the city, sitting in the clearing of a beautiful lush field overgrown with blue lupines and marigolds.

By then you still had not gotten accustomed to being with Aemond. Your heart still skipped each time your hands touched, and he gazed at you with longing.

You had come to realize just how good and proper of a lover he can be. He was careful not to overstep any line, not to take things too fast. You know you’re not experienced in this kind of thing, either. A connection so real. Something like that cursed four-letter L word that the both of you had managed to avoid when it comes to crushes, dating, romantic relationships in general.

He sat on the green-and-black gingham blanket that he previously laid down on the grass in a flourish. You had giggled when the wind threatened to whip it over his head.

“Laugh it up, darling.” He playfully glared at you, which didn’t do much to quell your laughter. Aemond watched on, feeling warm at the sight.

You watched him, studying as the outline of the side of his face eclipses the sunlight in the horizon.

He has no idea, does he?

He seemed oblivious to your staring, until he suddenly spoke, still keeping his gaze trained forward to the trees, “I’m glad I have your full attention.”

You were certain all the blood rushed to your cheeks at his remark, but you scoffed, and playfully shoved him. He was caught off guard, and failed to prop himself upright in time.

He shot you a glare as he brushed himself off. Without any warning, he wiggles his fingers against your side, making you audibly yelp in surprise.

The bastard fucking tickled me.

“You did not just…”

“Oh, but I did, darling.” Aemond nodded slowly, taunting you.

You raised your hand to retaliate, but that didn’t work. Because in a flash of movement, Aemond grabbed your forearm and then your waist.

And then, you found yourself underneath him, lying back on the mat. His halo of white-gold hair framing his face as he hovers above you, glowing brighter than the fading sunlight.

When his lips met yours, you realized that there truly were moments in life when time stands still. When everything is reduced to a humming of heartbeats in sync, and of someone else's warmth against you.

When his blue eyes blazed into your own, you thought that maybe… just maybe… that was what it was like to be in love.

-----------------------

Love, love, love. What is it really good for? Aemond has seen people fall apart because of it, suffer in spite of it.

He is quite sure that his mother has grown to love his father, despite theirs being a marriage of convenience. This is why she continues to care for him, and turns her cheek at any wrong done to her.

Aemond has been on the receiving end of his mother's love, more so than his siblings. But sometimes he wonders if this is borne out of obligation and instinct. Would she still love him if he wasn't her only doting son - with Aegon never in the picture, and Daeron having grown indifferent to family affairs?

Does his mother truly see him, for all that he is, or does she see some idealized version of herself? One that she puts on a pedestal? Her golden child who has the chance to attain what she never could.

There are times when Aemond fears that he does feel love himself, or not the truest form of it, at least. Sure, he loves his family. But is it also due to an uncontrollable pull of the heart, or simply out of duty? Does he feel like he needs to love them, being of the same blood? Has he just gotten used to being the binding force among his siblings, shepherding them like he actually is the eldest child? Do they even love him in turn? Certainly not with the same ferocity, Aemond knows, but in their own way? Most times, he finds it hard to tell.

It’s all like a game. They are all pieces on a chess board, playing a match that has no end. Moves and countermoves - isn’t this all that love is? Do something for them, protect them, as they will do for you. It is ultimately the right thing to do.

But with you, Aemond knows it’s different. It has been, since you stumbled into his life. He never felt the need to maintain a sense of devotion. Never really gave it much thought, or any planning. It was just there. Out of the blue. Much to his surprise, and not without hesitation.

He did not understand what it was at first. You certainly did not need him. Did not ask anything of him. He saw how you approached him with no expectation. He was never Aemond Targaryen, Prince of the City, to you.

Only Aemond. Your best friend’s mildly sullen yet cordial brother.

And you, well… you were just a passing fancy. Not bad to look at, pleasant enough to talk to.

Until you weren’t just that.

There were times when Aemond feared that did not feel love himself.

Until you.

And you became everything.

-----------------------

3 hours before the Dragonstone ball

Alicent has been walking in a flurry all over the penthouse, her bluetooth earpiece buzzing constantly. Having final consultations with event coordinators, on-site production staff, caterers, florists, and security staff, among others.

Talia trails her all around the vast living room, prepared to give a helping hand.

“Yes, yes, that was the one that I asked for, I don’t know why I have to clarify this again,” Alicent seethes, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking up at the ceiling in her frustration. The caller’s rushed apologies echo from her earpiece.

Her youngest son walks past her, an ascot tie loosely hanging around his neck.

“Daeron!” Alicent grabs him by the arm. “Are you all settled? Have you finally gone through options with the tailor?”

“Yes, mother,” Daeron cheekily sneers at Alicent’s worried expression. “I’ve just chosen which necktie I’ll be wearing, as you can see here. Just went down to get something to eat. Do try to relax, would you?”

“What about your brother? Please tell me he has had his suit vetted.”

Daeron replies, “I assume you mean Aemond, since Aegon will probably turn up in something ridiculous, like an inflatable dragon costume.”

Alicent scoffs before responding dryly, “If he actually does that, I just might consider sending him to the Silent Sisters institute.”

Daeron shrugs, “Best keep the family doctor close by, then. Oh, and Aemond’s all prepped since last week! You know him. Mr. Stickler-for-rules with a stick right up his a - ”

“Daeron!” Alicent exclaims.

“Alright, alright, I’m kidding!” Daeron puts his hands up, laughing. He turns on his heel and strolls down the hallway.

“My children,” Alicent sighs, sharing a look with Talia, who smiles knowingly in response. “Whatever will I do with them?”

“Oh, what will you do without them, ma’am?” Talia offers.

Alicent hums in acknowledgement. She feels as if the lines on her face have deepened the past few months, though they’ve long made themselves evident, due to all her ceaseless worrying about Aemond's condition and all this commotion about the ball. But what else is there to do?

She removes her earpiece and places it on Talia’s awaiting palm.

“Are you alright, ma’am? Do you need some refreshments, perhaps?” Talia asks.

“I need…” Alicent sighs, preparing herself for the task to come. “I need to go see my son.”

“He isn’t here at the moment, ma’am.” Talia shuffles from one foot to the other, a force of habit when having to share something that may induce more stress to Alicent. “He left for his apartment at Blackwater Residences last night. He has requested that everything he needs for the ball be sent to him there.”

“And I was not informed of this because?” Alicent inquires, her mask of composure remaining. Aemond used to be the one she would run to first, should she need anything. Her confidante. Her dutiful son. And he’s always been comfortable enough to keep her in the loop about his affairs.

But not lately. Not since the accident. Her son has rebuilt the impenetrable wall around him, and she has not been allowed access inside.

“Well, you’ve been very busy, ma’am. And Sir Aemond really didn’t tell anyone, he just informed me so that I may relay the message as I should.”

Alicent sighs in finality, “Fine. That’s fine. Have we made sure that his partner for the ball is in line? That model… uhhm, Alys, was it?”

“Yes, ma’am, she has made all the necessary preparations. And she is already aware of the regulations to follow, as she has attended the ball with Sir Aemond before.”

A question remains in Alicent’s mind. “You alluded once to something going on between Aemond and Helaena’s friend. The one who’s studying at the local university? I had thought that she would be his partner…” She trails off, remembering the one time she crossed paths with you. It was one evening in the penthouse, her kids and a number of their acquaintances sitting around a big round table of drinks and hors d'oeuvres. She only came round for a moment to retrieve something from her office, lingering in the foyer with Talia to get some documents in order.

She noticed you because you were sitting across the table from Aemond, who had been sneaking looks at you the entire night. Aemond clearly thought no one would notice, but if anyone would, it would be Alicent.

Aemond has always been the most stoic of her sons, the least likely to wear his heart on his sleeve. But she saw, plain as day, that he was drawn to you.

Her son fancied you, but has something changed? As for Alys, Alicent has never been her biggest fan when it came to Aemond. Their age gap is not her favourite thing, but how can Alicent claim to be a judge on that matter when the man she married is 11 years older than her? She’s chosen to set that aside, but the Rivers model has struck her as highly self-regarding and standoffish.

Alicent would never admit it to herself, but perhaps the main reason why she dislikes Alys Rivers is that she sees part of herself in her. What she might have devolved into if she hadn’t married for power and privilege at a young age. Alicent, Alys. The latter being a recreational drug-addled, provocative social climber who Alicent doesn't think is good for her son.

Talia dithers on her response. Who can explain what is going on in Aemond’s mind after all? It is clear that the attraction remains, but his actions are all over the place. “As I gathered, ma’am, he did ask her. But… and I am not sure why, he ended up asking Miss Alys instead. Which is a downright shame, if I may add. She is really a sweet young girl. She and Miss Helaena dote on each other.”

“A shame, indeed,” Alicent hums. She begins walking down the hallway, Talia in tow, who then adds, “She will still be at the ball, though, ma’am. As Sir Jacaerys’ partner.”

Alicent’s brows furrow, and a grimace flashed across her face on instinct. “Got a Strong pup, has she?”

“They’re close friends - ”

“So I’m not certain what’s been going about, but my son likes her… or used to like her. But now he’s coming with Alys, and she’s coming with Jace?” Alicent spins on her heel, huffing out her confusion, her fiery auburn hair whipping around her. Regarding Talia whilst shaking her head, she exclaims, “Quite the handful this ball is turning out to be, and isn’t that just exactly what I need?”

-----------------------

Alys Rivers rarely does her own makeup, preferring the ease of having a glam team on call 24/7.

But as she deftly applies medical-grade concealer on Aemond’s scar, her hands pat and press with a practiced ease of someone who had to do her own makeup on public buses at the age of 16, sneaking off to castings without telling her foster parents.

She huffs with impatience from her stool. “Could you keep your expression neutral, dear? I dunno why you look like you’re in pain.”

Aemond responds in a cold voice, “Why, do you find that this is something I should enjoy, dearest? You’re smattering something on my face to make me look presentable. I’m allowed to react in a manner of my choosing. My sincere apologies if it’s not acceptable for you.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Alys drops her hand, frustration clear on her face. “Look, I can see that you don’t want to come to the ball.” She packs on more product on the brush in a rapid motion.

“Oh, is that your input?” Aemond mumbles, disinterested. He simply wishes he had placed his glass of firewine within reach.

“Yes, that is my input,” Alys snaps in return. When her brush meets Aemond’s face again, she does it with less care and more impatience. “If you’re not going to be civil to me, then you should have accepted the help of the makeup artist your mother assigned - ”

“I won’t have some fucking stranger’s hands all over my - ”

“I know!” Alys emphasizes, her exasperation growing evident. “Which is why I’m here. Which is why I agreed to help when you asked. I - ” She stops working, leaning back, her shoulders stooped in her frustration. “I only want to help you, Aemond. I care about you. You know this.”

Aemond finally looks at the woman sitting in front of him. Appraising her irate expression, which he had caused. “I did not want this. This… concealment of my scar was my mother’s idea, to keep up appearances - ”

“Oh, I know - ”

“I don’t know how you expect me to be, Alys, considering - ”

Alys stands abruptly, walking away to look out the window. “Aemond, this has been going on even before that godforsaken accident.”

Aemond sighs deeply, wanting to be anywhere else but in the room. Only that isn’t true, he wouldn’t want to just anywhere else.

He wants to be with you.

Alys continues, “It all started that night when I visited you and you sent me away. Next thing I know there’s been whispers of you going around with some random girl.” She does not mention you by name. It’s better not to give you that power. She doesn’t need Aemond’s attention to drift any further from her than it already has.

She has not been blind to the switch in his demeanour, having been on the brunt end of his anger one too many times. He still maintains his impeccable sense of decorum and tact most of the time, but she can easily tell that it's only for show.

She once felt Aemond’s eyes on her, with some form of desire. Whatever he is capable of mustering, at least, even if it was never enough for Alys. At least she had hope that it could turn into something more. She can change him. Make him fall in love with her. But now, it’s like he sees straight through her. Only calling on her when absolutely necessary. Like this very moment.

“Hmm.” Aemond looks to the side. He feels the weight of the product Alys just applied on his scar and it starts to irritate him. More so than the situation at hand, to his surprise. “What do you want from me?” He lifts his arms up offhandedly.

“I heard… about you and her. I’m not an idiot,” Alys says, trying not to sound desperate.

“No one ever said that you are,” Aemond responds impatiently.

“Did you ask her to come with you to the ball before you asked me? Am I just some last resort…”

“The fuck does it matter? You’re here because I asked you, did I not?” Aemond snaps, whirring around, away from Alys. The reminder of you is throwing him off, threatening to chip away at the mask of composure that he has prepared for this night.

He hasn’t been able to shake off the scent of your skin, how warm you felt against him, that night he last saw you.

And tonight, he will see you again. Aemond never fancied himself a romantic, but he knows that your presence would be the one thing that will make this night worthwhile. This dreaded ball, which he has never looked forward to. Save for a few short weeks when he thought it would be you on his arm.

But he fucked it all up, didn’t he? All because he’s too weak to let you see him as he is. He thinks he’s not good enough for you. But a part of him has always known, because of your goodness, your undeniable warmth, that you would not mind the way he is right now. You would accept the person he has become - that’s just who you are. Good.

And even then, Aemond always comes back around to the same conclusion. You’re too good for him; he’s not good enough for you. Might as well save both of you the pain, and try to stay away.

And maybe, he can use Alys as a distraction. Choosing to bring her to the ball was an act of a coward, Aemond knows. Making you feel unwanted, pushed to the side.

But this is what he deserves. The bruises on his knuckles from that incident in Pentos have only just healed, after all. He is still out of control.

He’s never been a true believer, but the gods only know what he might do when he sees you on his nephew’s arm. Just the image of it causes him to clench his jaw in distaste.

In pure jealousy.

Aemond is blind to the possibility that you and his Jace are only friends, and will stay that way. All he sees in another man, holding you, laughing with you, looking at you like you’re the best thing in this world.

Another man, and not him. Aemond is going to need a lot of ale to get through the night.

And maybe more.

Alys snaps him out of thoughts of you, walking across the room in a flash, until she stands right in front of Aemond. “Do you think you can just use me like this? I’m not second best, Aemond. You asked me to come with you, but you’re acting like you wouldn’t even touch me with a ten-foot pole.”

Aemond remains unmoving, gauging her livid expression. Calculating the next move to make. He’s found himself settling more and more into his old rhythm. Careful, methodical. Almost machiavellian. Never giving away too much. Far from how genuine he allowed himself to be around you. He did not have to pretend or mask anything. But that was then. That was with you.

“Say something, goddamnit,” Alys breathes, her slender fingers wrapping around his forearm.

Aemond’s eyes drift to Alys’ touch, feeling nothing at all. There used to be a time when he would want her company. Crave it even. Although that may have been for the most depraved purposes, one that he allows himself to indulge in now and again, it was still theirs.

Now, Aemond cannot feel right having anything with anyone else. When all he wants is you.

“I asked you to the ball because I wanted to, Alys.” Aemond relents, choosing to take the calmer road. He presses further, knowing that Alys would need more assurance than that. “You should know that I don’t trust many people, and yet here you are. That should count for something.” The sentiment is honest, at least, if not completely heartfelt.

It isn’t as if Aemond grew to have Alys as a confidante by choice. It began as a series of run-ins, then deliberate nighttime invitations.. The trust he formed with her does not mean he values her above anyone else. It was more so that he knew, even early on, that he could never be tethered to her. They had an understanding of the nature of their relationship.

He knew he would not fall in love with her. And he knows because has tried. It spares him from ever truly being vulnerable. It spares them both from any pain.

He takes her hand in his, a final gesture to temper her storm of emotion. And it’s enough. For now.

When Alys leans in to plant her mouth on his, he sees it coming. But he stops himself from taking a step back, or turning his head. He knows that Alys would not dare back out of being his partner for the ball, the publicity and prestige of it all too good to her to pass on. But he does not want to risk having the same useless argument again.

The kiss is cold, fleeting. It leaves a faint hint of maroon by the corner of Aemond’s lips. Like a mark of betrayal.

“Okay, honey.” Alys reaches upward to smooth his hair. “Let’s do some final touches on you, then I’ll go to my suite and get ready.”

Some time later, she finally reaches some satisfaction on her work on Aemond’s scar and departs the room, eager to get started on her lengthier high-profile event glam routine.

Aemond only has one consolation.

He gets to freely indulge on firewine now.

-----------------------

You sit in anticipation at the edge of the bed in your humble apartment.

Helaena had granted your request that you get ready in the confines of your own small but comfortable space, though she preferred that you take her up on her offer of getting ready in their penthouse.

You knew it was best to concede to your friend when she said she would send someone to deliver your dress and to assist you. It couldn’t hurt, you thought, half-expecting that it would only be Talia.

You didn’t expect that sending someone in Helaena’s terms would mean two makeup artists, a hair stylist and his assistant, a nail technician, and Baela Targaryen, who had quickly risen through the ranks of the fashion industry with her clothing brand, Moondancer.

Little did you know that Baela herself would be arriving at your door.

“Hello, sweetheart. I heard from a little birdie that you might need some assistance?” Baela says, stepping into your apartment without waiting for an invitation, confidently occupying any space.

“Baela!” you exclaim. “How are you? Helaena did say she would send someone.” Before you could shut the door, a garment rack comes rolling through, about a dozen designer dresses whipping right past you.

“Where to, ma’am?” A lanky man asks, his mop of ginger hair peering from behind the rack.

“Just there,” Baela gestures to a far wall, before glancing at you, as if remembering that it is in fact your apartment. “Is it fine?”

“Sure,” you smile. As if refusal was an option.

“Our dearest Helaena has informed me of your top choices,” Baela says, as her red-haired assistant began to gingerly pull each dress out from their garment covers. “And I commend your taste, by the way, most of these are my favourite pieces from the collection.”

Soon enough, all of the dresses are revealed to you, each one more beautiful than the next.

“These are all amazing, Baela. Thank you. I owe you.” you say appreciatively, pulling her into a hug.

Baela keeps an arm over your shoulders when you pull apart, leading you to take a closer look. “You don’t owe me anything, sweet. So,” she says, “what are we thinking?”

“This one seems reasonable,” your hand drifts over a plum coloured dress, the material feeling nothing short of luxurious to the touch. It is a lovely A-line maxi dress, with intricate sequin detailing all over.

“Reasonable,” Baela snorts. “It’s lovely and all, but awfully safe, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with being safe?” you raise an eyebrow at her statement. “This is my first and possibly only Dragonstone ball, Baela. I just want to get through it without making a fool out of myself.”

“But you won’t make a fool of yourself,” Baela squeezes your shoulder in encouragement. “You belong there just as much as anyone else. Maybe even more so, because we actually do like you. Jace especially.”

Baela has a reputation for being quite the enterprising young woman, making a name for herself outside of the Targaryen business empire through her brand. She takes no prisoners, they say. If she wants something, she will go and get it herself. Most find her intimidating, and you count yourself lucky to be at the receiving end of her sweeter side.

“Hmm,” you feel a sense of ease wash over you, making you brush through the other dresses on the rack.

“This dress you chose is nice, and if safe is what you want then…” Baela gives you a once-over, her eyes gaining a mischievous spark. “... that’s all well and good. But, sweetheart, don’t you want to leave Aemond a groveling mess by your high-heeled feet?”

Your stunned expression betrays you, hindering any attempt at denial.

“Oh, I know.” Baela smirks. “Let’s just say that Hel may or not have clued me in on how absolutely childish he was to ditch you like that. I’ve always been of the opinion that my dear cousin needs to get his damn head screwed on straight, but hey, I might be biased.” She raises her hands, knowing she already got her point across.

It won’t be long before she wins you over to a not-entirely-safe dress.

The idea of Aemond possibly exhibiting any form of adoration upon seeing you at the ball is one that you have entertained too many times in the months leading up to tonight. To deny that would be foolish.

Some part of you wants to save yourself from what can only be described as the rollercoaster of attempting to maneuver a relationship with Aemond. But an even greater part… just can’t let him go.

You sigh in finality. Baela grins at that. She clearly won this one, but there was never really any doubt.

“I’m glad you agree, because I have something for you.” She nods over to her assistant, who promptly leaves the room and returns with another dress. The dress.

“Baela, what in seven hells.” You appraised the dress with evident stars in your eyes. “This… this was not in the catalogue Hel made me choose from.”

“Of course not, silly,” Baela responds proudly. “Because I designed this just for you.”

You shake your head in amazement, lightly asking, “What if I had stuck to my first choice, huh?” You wouldn’t have, not after seeing the dress, and you know Baela is aware of this.

“Impossible,” Baela reaches for the dress and holds it against you, studying you like a subject. “I had planned to custom make dresses for the ladies in the family anyhow. Well, apart from my beloved aunt - your dearest’s mother - so making one for you too was a no-brainer.”

You thank her profusely, as she and her assistant, whom you discover is named Lancel, check how the dress fits you. Seeing if any last-minute alterations were needed, but there was really nothing else to do with it.

It was perfect.

“Lancel will stay to assist you, and Helaena’s sending a whole team, and they should be here soon.” Baela says, growing busy with her buzzing phone. “I’ll be off to prepare myself.”

“I don’t know what else to say, but thank you again, Baela. Helaena said you would be in charge of our dresses but I certainly did not expect this.” You say sincerely, as you see her to the door.

“It was my pleasure,” Baela responds, and in true fashion, drops her head in a dramatic bow. As she walks down the hall, she does not miss her chance in calling back and adding, “and it will be an even bigger pleasure to witness the absolute anguish in Aemond’s face when he sees you.”

You welcome the shiver that runs up your spine at the thought of that. That’ll show him.

As if on cue, the rest of your designated prep team arrive not long after, and you surrender yourself to the frenzy that followed.

-----------------------

The Dragonstone Ball

The Valyrian Hall is a place of marvel in the city.

Erected nearly a century to the day, it essentially marked the dominance of the Targaryen empire in the country. Designed like an amphitheatre, the looming structure has hosted many history-marking events.

As befits it, it is also the venue for the annual Dragonstone Ball. Revamped for the purposes of each ball, it transforms into a hub of merrymaking and pageantry. Its attendees include no other than the rest of the nobility, dignitaries, notable artists and academics, as well as the nouveau riche.

The country of Westeros is officially an oligarchy, with the heads of the most powerful Houses in power. But the unspoken truth of it is that the Targaryens rule over them all.

And no expense is spared by the ruling family of the country.

The media is flocked outside the hall, a thousand cameras flashing at each arriving guest. Hurling empty exclamations at the impeccably dressed attendees walking down the black carpet. The theme for this year was simple - Firelight - a play on the Targaryen and Hightower slogans, honouring the long-standing alliance between the two families. The dress code warranted only their traditional colours to be worn - red and black, green and silver.

Viserys himself was the mastermind behind the theme, in an effort to make a show of strength in the family, after the horrid incident between Aemond and Lucerys. Alicent was slow to warm to the idea, if she ever did at all.

Tensions are still high, especially between the mothers of two belligerents, with Alicent having shared unsavoury comments about Lucerys’ upbringing.

And of course, it is an open secret in this year’s event that everyone is in anticipation of finally seeing what has become of Aemond Targaryen.

-----------------------

Your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed and beautiful, standing tall with a quiet confidence you didn’t think you could muster.

Clad in the dazzling red gown Baela crafted specifically for you, and your tresses adorned with an embellished tiara crafted by the silversmiths of Volantis, you surprisingly do not feel like a whole other person. Not exactly.

You feel more yourself than you ever had before.

“I could be a Targaryen,” you jokingly share with Jace as you both study yourselves in the mirror. “If only I had that damned silver hair.”

“Trust me when I say that it’s not as fun as people might think,” he laughs in response, catching your eyes in the reflection. “But you look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You whirl around, not even bothering to hide the blush on your face. Jace would see right through you, anyway. “And you look handsome as ever.” You take a deep breath, trying to do away with the nerves that are threatening to emerge. Calm down.

You lightly brush your hands across his shoulders. “Well, I cannot believe that I am going to the ball as the famous Jacaerys Velaryon’s date. What an honour, really. You’re practically a prince!”

“Oh, ha-ha,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’m just Jace to you, thank you very much.”

“This is going to go great,” you sigh in encouragement, mostly to yourself. I’ll finally see him, won’t I? What could go wrong?

What could go wrong, indeed? How much will it string to see Alys Rivers draped on Aemond’s arm. To see them dancing with each other, barely an inch apart.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jace smooths your perfectly-done hair in reassurance. “You and I are going to enjoy this godsforsaken ball with Hel, Luke, and the rest of our friends.” Don’t even think about him, he wanted to say, but you already knew that.

He holds his arm out for you to take, indicating that it is finally time to head to the ball.

“Shall we?”

You loop your arm around his with a steady smile, bracing yourself for what would turn out to be one of the most memorable nights of your life.

-----------------------

You feel the limousine idly come to a slow stop in the private road leading to the front of the grand Valyrian Hall. All at once, everyone flocks around to catch a glimpse of whom they presume to be members of the Targaryen clan, but the security detail is quick to ensure that none may come too close. Even if it would be impossible to peer through its heavily tinted windows.

“Don’t worry, we won’t come out here.” Jace is quick to note, when he sees the apprehension on your face. “We’ll head inside to the inner courtyard.”

The yelling of photographers outside sounds like a cacophony, an endless buzzing, and you are grateful you don’t have to go right into their throes.

The limousine moves once more, presumably following the one before it, passing the towering gold palisade surrounding the hall.

“Special entrance for special guests, eh?” Jace nudges you, smirking.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You hum in response. You try to fight it, but your mind races. Is he already here? ‘I’ll see you at the ball,’ he said. Sure. What then?

“There are still photographers and members of the media here, but only ones vetted by the family,” Jace explains. “I’ll take the lead, so you don’t have to worry about answering any questions if you don’t want to. Just stick with me.”

Ever the gentleman.

The chauffeur opens the limousine door, and Jace gently tows you along with him. When the blinding camera flashes first hit your eyes, you enter into a sort of haze. Like on autopilot, you don a practiced smile and smoothly walk with Jace down the black carpet.

Jace opts to have only one brief interview, with whom you recognize to be the prolific Mysaria, the head news anchor for the channel owned by the Targaryens.

“And who is your lovely date for this evening?” she beams, and the camera pans over to you.

“This beauty here is y/n, one of my best friends.” Jace drapes an arm around you, then smiles to the camera. You admire how flawless his media training is.

“That’s right,” you hear yourself saying, “someone needs to keep this one in line.”

Mysaria laughs, “Oooh, we love your attitude. Well, you two do make the most gorgeous pairing.”

She asks a few more questions, then the interview quickly wraps, and Mysaria shakes both of your hands in her professional manner.

Event coordinators usher the two of you inside the sprawling foyer, lush with intricate Targaryen red and black tapestry. But right as you start to appreciate the detailed engravings on the bronze panels propped up on the walls, you are directed up a flight of stairs and into a private parlour.

Your shoulders visibly slump in instant relief when you spot some familiar faces.

Helaena stands speaking to Lucerys, who incidentally is her date, as she refused to be paired with anyone unfamiliar. Luke had been gracious enough to volunteer to be her partner.

“Even if her brother and myself fucked each other over a while back, I still love Hel,” you heard him joke once, a pit of dread settling in your stomach. Leave it to Luke to be nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Look who it is,” Luke greets loudly, “my brother finally looks like an actual human being.”

“Ah, you little shit,” Jace counters, shaking his head fondly. “How’s the limp?”

“Not bad,” Luke props his right leg forward, showing off some progress.”Lucky for me, we’ll be walking at a snail's pace all throughout this bloody thing. You look stunning, by the way.” He winks at you.

“Thanks, Luke.” you smile at him. “So, what a spectacle, huh? It was crazy out there.”

Helaena wraps an arm around your waist, “If you think that was crazy, wait ‘til you enter the main hall.”

“We’ll be announced next. It’s just us left from the family, really. Everyone else has already walked down the proverbial aisle.” Luke comments, straightening his shawl lapels.

The brothers’ choice of attire contrasts yet complements the other’s, with Luke sporting a burgundy three-piece suit and a black tie, whilst Jace dons a simpler black suit and a red tie.

Helaena looks simply otherworldly in her emerald gown, representing the true Hightower heiress that she is.

“Everyone?” you exhale, the words registering. He’s already here.

“You alright? You remember everything from rehearsal?” Jace confirms with you. Yes, I remember rehearsal quite well. The one that Aemond predictably chose not to attend.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nod, shaking away any thought of him. We’ll see each other soon enough. “Let’s get this shit done, shall we, partner?”

“You’re up next, Sir Lucerys, Miss Helaena.” The event coordinator summons the pair, directing them to stand in front of the heavy-set ornate doors.

A moment passes, then the doors open with a slow, echoing groan. Helaena shoots you one more smile as she walks through with Lucerys.

You hear the herald’s booming voice announcing their names, just as the doors close once more.

“Two more minutes of this,” Jace remarks. “Or you know, maybe ten, since my brother has to take his sweet time walking down the hall.”

“Hey,” you smack his chest, laughing, “it’s not his fault he still has a limp.”

Taking your hand, Jace leads you in front of the doors. You feel your heart pounding, as the sounds coming from the great hall are amplified.

You turn to Jace, wanting to say something, anything, to calm yourself but your mouth feels dry. “Hey,” he gently croons, coming to your rescue, his hand covering yours as you squeeze his arm, “do you see this?”

Your eyes follow as he points to the figure embossed on the large metal doors.

“It looks like… a dragon?”

“That’s right. I think you know of the myths of Old Valyria, where my family hails from. This dragon is called Balerion, the greatest and largest that my ancestors were said to have claimed.”

“Even in this form, he looks imposing,” you say, gazing at the figure, “and beautiful.”

Jace hums in agreement, adding, “You know, legend has it that Targaryens are of the blood of the dragon. That we, for lack of a better word, are dragons ourselves.”

“Hmm,” you smile at the thought, “and do you believe that?”

Jace shrugs, facing ahead, getting ready. “Why shouldn’t I believe?”

His words inspire a sense of calm, and self-assuredness, quieting your restless mind. I can do this. You hold yourself up, lips curved in a soft smile.

The doors open, revealing the revelry below.

Here we go.

-----------------------

Aemond had been eager to get through with the initial presentation, practically marching through as fast as can be allowed, with Alys clinging on his arm. He did not much care for the dissonant whispering that flooded the hall once the crowd got sight of him. Their missing Prince of the city has returned.

You would think I grew a second fucking head.

It was no use trying to drown them out, even with the orchestra resounding from the balcony.

“What happened to his eye?”

“Is that really him?”

“He looks…”

“In a rush, are we, honey?” Alys asked through gritted teeth, annoyed, but kept her signature sultry expression intact. She pulled him closer to her, “Keep pace with me now.”

When they finally reached the front of the hall, where the rest of his family assembled, he nearly took a swig out of the flask Aegon was subtly trying to hand over to him.

Until Alicent hissed at the both of them. “Not now, boys.”

The crowd continues to sneak glances at him. In awe or pity, Aemond does not care to know. With every new pairing being announced, he is grateful that their attention is momentarily diverted.

He stands tall in his midnight black formal leather overcoat, with a fitted dark green shirt underneath. His hair has grown longer since his last public appearance, and he now wears it in a half-up manner, with his eyepatch neatly in place over it.

He has come to terms with his appearance, and soon enough, he might even grow to accept the moniker Aemond One-Eye as his brother keeps calling him.

“It’s badass, Aem,” Aegon had drawled. “You look like a Valyrian dragonrider from the old stories with that scar.”

The pairings could have blurred in a haze altogether. Lannister, Arryn, Baratheon, Stark, Tully. On and on it went, but none of them left a mark on Aemond.

There is only one person he is so desperate to see.

When Lucerys Velaryon’s name is announced, Aemond can’t help the distaste he feels. He rolls his shoulders, trying to keep composure, Alys’ arm falling from him. She only regards him from the corner of her eye, likely praying that he doesn’t cause a scene and embarrass her.

He keeps his focus on his sister, as she gracefully floats through the crowd in Hightower green. Such a shame it’s that bastard she got paired with.

Helaena and her partner reach the front of the hall, and she throws him a look as if to say, behave. Aemond ducks his head in acknowledgment, lips curling.

I promise I’ll try to be good. For her sake.

To his left, he hears Helaena whisper, “Any moment now.”

Aemond knows exactly what she means, and does not feel the need to muster a response. The anticipation has devolved into some kind of torture, as all he wants to see you again.

To feel you against him, how your skin would glide smoothly against his, how you would fit together.

The effects of firewine are getting stronger, encroaching on his senses. It dawns on him that perhaps he shouldn’t have imbibed in considerable quantities before the ball, but no matter.

The herald begins his next announcement.

“Finally, let us welcome Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Laenor Velaryon…”

“More like Strong,” Aegon mumbles under his breath, but Aemond no longer pays him any mind.

“... and Rhaenyra Targaryen. With his partner…”

The herald says your name, and Aemond can practically feel his heart lodged in his throat. Keeping his arms behind his back, he adjusts his stance, trying to calm himself. He sees you emerge from the top of the steps and watches as your eyes sweep over the entire hall, and eventually, finally, meet his very own.

Aemond can hardly breathe, the blood rushing to his head at the sight of you in that red dress, making him feel all woozy. The firewine surely does not help, either.

She looks like a goddess. You walk down the hall, keeping your eyes trained ahead, hand firmly on Jacaerys’ arm. But Aemond does not spare his nephew any more than a cursory glance, almost entranced by the way your gown enhances your silhouette. By the exposed planes of your skin.

He watches your chest heave against your bodice as you take deep breaths. He knows that you would be nervous, but to your credit, nobody will be able to tell.

That’s my girl. You reach the front of the hall, joining the rest of the family and their respective partners. Your lips part slightly as you get a better look at Aemond, and he wants to know badly what you think. But then your eyes visibly narrow at something, and you turn away, walking with Jace to the other end of the group.

Aemond registers that Alys had looped her arm around his again, and he curses her internally. He can’t help the glare that he throws in her direction, but she must not see the irritation in his eyes or simply ignores it.

Alys mouths, “Have you been drinking?” with a seductive smile that does not fit her query.

Keeping up appearances, as usual.

“Some,” Aemond snaps. “Don’t let it concern you.”

The hall falls into silence as Viserys conducts his opening remarks, followed by a brief speech from his daughter and named successor, Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Soon enough, it’s time for the first dance. All of the main pairings make their way to the open floor in the middle of the hall, standing across from each other as they line up in an orderly fashion. It is the only traditional Valyrian dance of the night, for which participants were required to attend a series of rehearsals prior to the event. Aemond opted out of them this year, not that it mattered. He has long since mastered the dance, having attended every Dragonstone ball since his childhood.

He is tempted to look in your direction, but his instinct to follow tradition wins over.

Always keep your eyes trained on your partner, his mother had ingrained in him and his siblings.

That wouldn’t be a problem, if she were mine.

The dancers raise their right arms to the front, and the music starts. For Aemond, every step almost feels robotic, and his body moves on its own volition. He does not even need to think, nor does he appreciate the closeness the routine requires of the pairings.

Fuck it. At that, Aemond lets his eye wander over to you, as you twirl around with Jace a few feet away. You don’t even look at Aemond, and you shouldn’t, but it annoys him anyway.

He spins Alys around, and her back is pressed to his as they saunter from side to side.

Then you lock eyes. He notices the switch in your expression, which you quickly revert back to a fixed soft smile, but he sees it anyway.

You’re irate at me, my love. The pairings spin around again. And for good reason.

“You smell of firewine,” Alys mutters, when she draws closer.

“Well, I needed something to make this night bearable,” Aemonds responds coolly,

“Aemond,” Alys warns.

Aemond could have rolled his eyes at her reaction. Eye, he smirks at himself. “Don’t worry. It’s not you. I just dislike all this.” Surely that will get her to simmer down.

“Do you really ? Aren’t you a stickler for Valyrian tradition?”

“Hmm.” When in seven hells will this dance end?

-----------------------

When the first dance ends, you audibly breathe a sigh of relief.

It is no longer the apprehension about tripping on your feet, or doing something unbecoming of the tradition of the ball, or even forgetting a part of the dance routine that plagues your mind - all of your worries are set aside, overpowered by the rush of emotion from seeing Aemond once again.

The sight of him had been enough to drown out all the noise. Like the focal point of a kaleidoscope, your eyes sought him out when you entered the hall.

Like a moth to a flame. And he found you too.

You don’t know what else to think, apart from - He looks beautiful.

What was he even worried about? He still looks every bit like your Aemond, though you feel sorry at the now apparent loss of his eye. You know he would not desire your pity, that he would hate being on the receiving end of it from anyone. But you can’t help it.

I’m sorry this happened to you, you want to tell him. But would it even matter? Would it make a difference? Or does he already get enough consolation from the company of Alys Rivers?

Jace does not let go of your hand as you walk to the head table with the rest of the family, which is situated like a dais at the front of the hall, so that all the family members would have a full view of everything. Aemond is situated at the other end of the table with Alys, but since they are seated at the other end of the long table, as are you and Jace, they are directly in your line of sight.

The staff had distributed glasses of a deep violet wine which Jace explained is firewine, originally from Valyria. “Are you doing alright so far?” He places his hand atop yours on the table, and you hum positively in response. He does not let go, his thumb drawing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

You raise your head when Viserys addresses the hall, making the mistake of catching Aemond’s eye. You notice how tense he sits, both hands intertwined on the table, his eye trained on you. Or rather, on Jace’s hand adjoined with yours.

You shake your head slightly. He looks up at you, as if noticing the attention you are giving him. So you look away quickly, listening as Viserys makes his first toast to the hall.

“Now we drink,” Jace signals. You pick up the ornate glass and bring it to your lips, and see Aemond doing the same. He does not drop your gaze as he takes a drawn out sip, and finally lowers the glass. You catch the way his tongue flickers to taste the remnants of firewine on his lips, and you feel your cheeks flare up with warmth.

Does he know what he’s doing?

“We now invite all of you to partake in another bout of dancing, this one less stringent than the first, so there’s no need to worry. No dragon will come to smite you if you step on your partner’s toes, but my dear wife won’t hesitate to throw you out of the hall, I’m sure,” Viserys announces genially, earning some laughter from the attendees. “And shortly after, the feast will begin.”

The crowd sets into commingling. Some pairings remain together, some accept invitations from other guests. The orchestra begins to play a slower, gentler hymn. Something more intimate. Romantic.

“May I have this dance, stranger?” Jace grins at you, offering his hand.

“Well, who am I to refuse a dragon?” you quip in turn. You pass by Helaena and Luke already on the dancefloor, and Aemond and Alys…

“Hey,” Jace keeps you from finding out. He keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back, and takes your hand in the other. “Is he bothering you?”

“What?”

“Aemond,” Jace says. “I could not help but notice that my dear uncle has been practically drooling at you like some starving dog.”

“He has not,” your eyes widen at his insinuation. But he has, hasn’t he?

“Are you blind?” Jace laughs. “He’s bloody doing it right now.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find him, guiding Alys Rivers in a slow dance. And Jace is right. He may be holding her, but his focus is on you.

“You can tell that he must be so jealous right now,” Jace says. “It’s kind of funny.”

A giggle bubbles up your lips, and Jace joins you. You hold each other closer in an attempt to control your laughter. “Still,” you breathe out, finding the words. “He came here with Alys. Not me.”

Jace simply smirks at your concern. “Oh, doll. Judging by how he looks like he might commit nepoticide at any moment, I’d say you’re doing a fine job of making him pay for it.”

-----------------------

Aemond hears you laugh a few feet away, recognizing his favourite sound. It’s been too long since he last heard it. Too bad you’re sharing the moment with his Strong nephew, of all people.

The song slows to a gradual halt, but the dance is still under way. Aemond takes this as his cue to turn away from Alys, mumbling something about getting a drink.

“Wait until they’re served. You don’t just slink away searching for alcohol to drown in! This is so unlike you.” She seethes, his attitude finally getting to her.

Aemond knows this. He’s well aware that the servers will soon emerge from the corners of the hall with delicate glass flutes balanced on gold trays. He’s seen this ball play out all throughout his life.

But he is not looking for the same sweet, feeble firewine. He’d much prefer the seedier alcohol that Aegon brings around in his flask.

Alys was right. This is truly unlike him. But between the awareness of everyone scrutinizing his new appearance and seeing his nephew’s hand firmly on your waist, his only recourse is to take a book out of Aegon’s page.

And drink like a Braavosi seahorse, as they say.

You begin swaying once more, in the arms of Jace, as the music gradually rises back to a crescendo. New sets of pairings venture onto the dancefloor.

Thankfully, one of them steps in to relieve him.

“Well, if it isn’t Alys Rivers herself,” a man exclaims, then turns to Aemond. “Do you mind, sir?” He holds his hand out to Alys, standing tall like a reed, as if a stiff breeze would blow him away.

“Oh, hi.” Alys says, pleased at the attention. “Aemond, this is Harris, he’s an actor and we worked on…”

But Aemond has already stepped away, disinterested by her explanation. “By all means.”

It is clearly not the reaction Alys wanted from him, and she glares at his retreating figure. Aemond doesn’t notice, approaching his brother on the sidelines.

“Finished dancing with mommy?” Aegon sneers by way of greeting.

“Fuck off, Aegon.”

“Aw, come on.” Aegon slaps his brother on the back. “You know I'm joking. Besides, you’re doing well for your first event in a long time.”

“Well,” Aemond’s lips curl in thought. Is that how things are going? Well? I wouldn’t say so. “Hand me your flask.”

Aegon sniggers, reaching for his pocket. “Hurry while our dear mother’s not looking.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Aemond takes a long drag of the liquid, the unforgiving taste biting in his mouth. It burns a little as it goes down his throat, winding up in his core as a pit of warmth.

“Well, well. Did you lose your inhibitions along with your eye, brother?” Aegon snatches the flask back, surprised but not disappointed by this turn of events.

Perhaps.

“Look at them. Smiling at each other like that.” Aemond spits out, venom lacing his tone.

“Wha -” Aegon’s head whips around, searching. Landing on you. “Oh. I see.” His amusement flares even greater. “Someone’s bloody jealous.”

“Hmm.” Why bother denying it?

“Didn’t think you had it in you to be cuckolded by a bastard.” Aegon says, dealing an effective blow.

“Give me that,” Aemond swipes the flask once more, taking a careless swig. Intrigued whispers reach him, somewhere from behind. Or to his side, it doesn’t matter. They can say whatever they want.

He hands the flask back to his snickering brother, then goes on to claim what’s his.

-----------------------

“Nephew.”

You hear his voice, plain as day. One minute he was some distance away, then he materialised right beside you.

“Mind if I step in?” Aemond asks Jace smoothly. Politely. But his eyes betray a hint of malice. You can’t help but stare at him blankly as he offers his hand to you.

Jace doesn’t respond right away, looking to you for approval. Are you fine with this? He seems to ask with furrowed brows.

“It’s okay,” you find your voice, albeit timid and unsure.

“I won’t go too far,” Jace whispers. He lets you go, letting Aemond take over in his stead. You stand in front of each other, but you don’t dare move closer. You feel arrested in his gaze, and he doesn’t say anything for a while.

Until he takes a sure step. Then he is everywhere. His familiar scent envelops you once more. Dizzying, like a long swig of firewine. You even catch a hint of it from him. His lips curl in amusement as he sees you studying him. You take notice of his eyepatch, of the scar lingering beneath.

Aemond. Enticing as ever. Ethereal and princely in his leather garb.

Why did he ever have to hide from me?

He whispers your name, and puts both hands on the small of your back, pulling you right against him. More intimate than the stance you had with Jace.

Aemond always had a pair on him.

He does seem to be unfazed, though he surely regards how flustered you’re becoming. “Hands up on my shoulders, love.” He says, and you comply.

Then he gracefully guides you through the slow dance. How can he act like everything is normal between us? Does he expect me to just -

“You look beautiful.” Aemond says, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your eyes widen at his sentiment, and your cheeks warm. “Easily the most beautiful woman in this room.”

It’s all too much, and you have to look away. “Nice of you to say that, Aemond.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure.”

You continue with the dance, too aware of your proximity. If you lean in, you’re almost certain he’ll feel your rushing heartbeat. Maybe he already does, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“Are you… are you better now?” You ask, tentatively.

Aemond’s expression hardens, and you struggle to decipher what he could possibly be thinking.

“I wish this never happened to you,” you add, and your hand strays on its own, hovering over the side of his face. But you catch yourself, and let your hand fall just as quick.

“I know,” he says, sincerely. “I do wish I never had to be away from you.”

“But you never had to,” you respond immediately. “This wouldn’t have changed how I see you.”

“It might have,” Aemond looks away this time. “You didn’t see how I was. How I still am.”

“I don’t - ”

Aemond’s head whips back to you, leaning closer. “There’s a reason why my mother made sure I wore these bloody gloves. So we don’t give people a chance to talk about their fucking Prince of the City’s latest exploits.”

You swallow, growing concerned. “I heard about those… fights. I wasn’t sure if they were true. Nobody ever said anything.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, they are. I’m not going to lie, darling. Right now, I’m not averse to slamming Jacaerys right to the ground.”

“Aemond,” you freeze, no longer swaying to the music. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Maybe he has changed. But did I ever truly know him? Did he really let me in?

He notices your expression fall, agonizes at the sight of you moving away from him, dropping your arm to your sides. So he pulls you in once more, holding you right against him. His leather coat is smooth against the featherlike fabric of your gown, cool against your growing warmth.

“Wait,” Aemond pleads. “Stay with me.” His hands slide upward, cradling your face. You have no choice but to look at him. Briefly, you wonder how he would appear without the eyepatch. Not that it matters. Not that he will reveal himself to you.

The song comes to a gradual halt in the background. The crowd begins to shuffle back to their tables. Some of them cast wary glances in your direction. Who is that girl with their beloved Aemond, they must wonder, and you begin to grow self-conscious.

“I want to kiss you right now, darling.” Aemond sighs, fanning your face with an exhale. Proving your assumption that he might be inebriated. Not just with wine, but something stronger.

I wish you would. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” His face scrunches in frustration, and it’s actually adorable.

“Not here. People are staring.” You clear your throat, trying to get a hold of yourself. But it doesn’t seem to matter to him.

“Let them stare.”

His gaze drifts down to your lips. His thumb flutters across, parting them just a little. Just as he had, that one night. Has it been that long?

Like a shock to your senses, you see a lithe figure in a silver slip gown walking in your direction. A vision with her cascading dark hair.

You jump back from Aemond, and he looks almost wounded.

“Enjoy your night, Aemond.” You turn away from him. “Alys.” You muster up a greeting, and the corner of her mouth lifts in a wry smile.

You walk through the crowd, your mind still on Aemond, unaware that he continues to watch you with longing, tuning out the dark-haired vixen holding on to his arm.

“You look flushed,” Aegon greets, standing with Helaena by the dais.

“I suppose it’s your fault Aemond’s drunk,” you respond, raising your eyebrow.

“He’s drunk?” Aegon exclaims, shrugging dramatically. “I swear I had no part in this.”

Helaena shakes her head, watching the exchange. “It’s a relief you didn’t decide to become an actor.”

“Hey,” Aegon grumbles, but he is clearly unaffected. “Aemond wanted to get drunk. I never could make him do anything no matter how hard I try.”

Smirking at you, he presses on. “If anything, sweet, I should be blaming you.”

-----------------------

You are seated back at the high table when Jace finally returns. But he is not alone, grinning conspiratorially with another raven-haired fellow, strapping and dignified in appearance.

You spot the wolf sigil pinned to his black tunic, and you automatically make an assumption.

This must be a Stark.

“I would like to introduce you to an old buddy of mine,” Jace smiles, confirming your thoughts. “This is Cregan Stark.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Cregan reaches you, drawing close. He smoothly takes your hand, and presses a kiss to the back as a gesture of courtesy. “A shame we didn’t meet sooner. I suppose I haven’t left Winterfell in far too long. Haven’t seen this one in a long time too.” He tilts his head in Jace’s direction, smiling. You can’t help but notice the sharpness of his canines, making him appear kind of wolflike, in line with his family symbol. “My sister Sara misses him way too much for my liking.”

At the mention of Sara, Jace’s cheeks visibly redden, and you make a mental note of teasing him about it later.

“What’s not to miss about Jace, really?” you say, taking a liking to the Stark boy’s demeanour. Sure, he holds himself with a steely confidence that befits someone of his status - much like Aemond - but he doesn’t come across as intimidating.

And, more importantly, he’s good friends with Jace, so he must be trustworthy.

“Right, you two, the feast is starting,” Jace playfully pulls Cregan away from you, who winks in your direction before hunkering off to his own table.

Jace sits down next to you, a smile still resting on his lips. When he catches you looking, you take the opportunity and say, “So, Sara Stark, huh?”

He smirks, easily countering with, “So, my uncle, huh?”

Your eyebrows raise, and you pick up the flute of wine set before you.

“Touché.”

-----------------------

Another one. Aemond has half a mind to break something when he spots the fucking Stark boy making advancements on you. Who does he think he is anyway? Does he not know that you are already spoken for?

True to form, his nephew Jacaerys only seems to be encouraging the whole thing. Bringing his two friends together.

Bastard is as bastard does.

Thankfully, there is a sudden trill sound, some chimes swinging, it doesn’t matter. The feast is being signalled to commence.

Everyone makes their way back to their tables, including bloody Cregan Stark.

Aemond is simply determined to go through the motions, and to make it to the remaining two hours of this ball. Two excruciating hours. Then he plans on taking you off somewhere, just you and him, having already considered the different outcomes in his head.

To Blackwater Residences, perhaps? But that would be a bit far away. You would be inclined to go with him, only if there would be an option to return to the ball should the need arise.

So he settles on simply pulling you away from the crowd, somewhere within the Valyrian Hall. He knows the ins and outs of the establishment quite well. So there would be no trouble getting around. To the gardens, to the balcony on the upper floor, to the private parlour?

Anywhere, anything.

“... so of course, I said yes! It’s a really good opportunity for me to finally venture into the film industry, you know. It’s something I've always wanted.” Alys prattles on, and Aemond tunes in, now and then, nodding or shaking his head as warranted. Keep her happy, and the night should flow by easily. If he plays his cards right, he should be with you soon enough.

Viserys commands the attention of the crowd, and hush falls over the feast.

He begins by thanking everyone in attendance, then goes on to make a toast for the entire city, for prosperity. And at the end, he expresses a tribute for perpetual unity among his family, the accident glazed over like a bad headline.

Like it never happened. And that is how people will see it, if that is the will of Viserys.

As per tradition, the rest of the family may take the opportunity to share a toast, should they wish.

Rhaenyra is next, and she expresses gratitude for the health of their sons.

Otto Hightower announces the predicted success of the next business venture between the Targaryen and Hightower empires, shepherded by his tireless consulting and liaising, of course.

Daeron makes a cheerful toast to his many friends, scattered across the hall in attendance.

And then, Lucerys stands, leaning against his good leg, one hand on the table for balance. He raises his hand high, and his usual impish smirk is in place. He looks around the hall, making sure to have everyone’s eyes on him.

“It's been quite the year, as we all know. I, for one, am simply grateful to still be standing here among you.”

Viserys looks to Rhaenrya, as if to question whether Luke will stray too far. The boy’s mother merely smiles stiffly, trusting her son to be prudent in his speech.

Luke does not miss a beat, continuing, “I would like us all to toast to my family, especially to my dear uncle, Aemond. Hopefully he has learned his lesson about challenging me to a race.” He adds the last thing lightly, and the crowd titters as a result.

“Alright, Luke, that’s enough.” Rhaenyra makes a hushed warning.

Luke mouths, wait, and finishes up the rest of his speech. “I would like to make a toast as well, to our dear friends and companions here at our table. To Daeron’s girlfriend, Viola. To Rhaena and her Corwyn. And to my good friend, y/n.”

Aemond’s hand clenches into a fist on the table at his nephew mentioning your name. He sees you regard Luke with surprise, not expecting this at all.

Luke finishes his toast, and in a deliberate move, he says, “Seeing as how my brother is quite taken with you, I won’t be surprised if you will be joining our family soon.”

Aemond suddenly rises from his seat, his weighty chair causing a grating noise to echo across the hall.

Luke sits back down with a triumphant sneer, having accomplished his desired result.

Aemond takes a deep breath, not saying anything for a few seconds. His features are stony and his figure taut, like a serpent ready to strike.

“Aemond,” Alicent says, worried.

Then Aemond raises his glass, a determined look on his face, his one beady eye scanning the hall. Not willing to be defeated.

“A tribute,” he begins, “to the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…”

He catches sight of you, sitting too far away, worriedly looking between himself and Jacaerys, who glares at him appalled. You shake your head at him.

This is all for you, my darling.

“...Strong.” Aemond calls to everyone. “Let us raise our cups, to these three Strong boys.”

The tension takes its toll, and despite Viserys’ best efforts, chaos ensues.

a/n

not Aemond getting wasted just to cope with the high of properly being with the reader after the longest time...

also - someone send Ewan back to Derby please. I'm serious.

Sound off in the comments! I would love to know what you guys think 🖤

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyv @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon

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iwritefandomimagines · 4 months

Text

NEW YEAR’S KISS — JAMIE TARTT

masterlist

pairing: jamie tartt x reader

description: last time you saw jamie tartt, he’d laughed off your confession of feelings. now it’s new year’s eve, you’re at a richmond party, and he looks so fucking good in a suit.

warnings: swearing, bit of angst, bit of fluff, alcohol consumption, light sex references but no smut

author’s note: eeeek happy new year’s eve and happy new year for tomorrow all !!! sending lots of love n good vibes <3

———

You couldn’t even believe it yourself that you had agreed to attend the New Year’s Eve party that Dani had decided to host.

Sure, you loved any opportunity to hang out with the men you’d grown close to in your time working with the club, but given the way things went the last time you saw a certain Mr Jamie Tartt… You were regretting your agreement to come immensely.

Even worse, the last time you’d seen him was also at a squad event where one too many shots had been to blame for your actions, and you feared this would be repeated.

You’d stupidly let your guard down when he was flirting with you nonchalantly again, and confessed that you had feelings for him.

He’d laughed it off — assuming that alcohol and clouded your judgement instead of just instilling you with the boldness you needed to be honest.

Since then, you’d avoided him like the plague and turned down all of Keeley’s invitations to places you knew he’d be.

Given that you were only working with the club on a temporary basis anyway, avoiding him had been relatively easy.

But now here you were, because you had no other plans anyway and Keeley insisted that you couldn’t avoid Richmond forever — even if she didn’t know the real reason for it and believed you’d just been busy.

“Oh my God Y/N, you look well fit!” Keeley screamed when she saw you, eyes flitting over your frame before she yanked you into a tight hug, “I’ve missed you, babe!”

“I’ve missed you too,” you hummed, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling in your stomach as you felt all eyes on you, “Sorry I’ve not been around. Lots going on.”

“Too busy for us now, yeah?” Jamie sidled up to your side, a smirk on his face that you couldn’t quite tell the root cause of. Was he just pissing about or was he trying to be snide?

When you looked over at him, you felt your heart race even faster at the sight of him in a gorgeous, well-fitted, and frankly uncharacteristically smart goddamn suit.

Somehow, it made him look even more incredible than usual and only made the feelings you’d fought to deny since you last saw him become impossible to ignore.

You bit your lip, looking down for a minute and not catching the way his eyes scanned over you hungrily.

Your dress was certainly doing wonders for your figure, and he’d have been an idiot not to appreciate it, “Kiddin’, love. You look stunning. We’ve missed ya.”

You nodded for a moment, taken aback by his compliment even though they’d never been rare when you were around him more often, “Uh— thanks, Jamie. You still scrub up well, too. I’ve missed you all.”

Jamie’s smile softened now, reaching out his arm to link it with yours, “Wanna go get a drink, milady?l

You caught Keeley widening her eyes at him with a grin, as if encouraging him.

Oh fuck — did she know what had happened? Were they all laughing behind your back?

“I, uh, yeah sure,” you obliged, almost melting back into being comfortable with him like you used to, “Guess it is nearly midnight, I should probably catch up.”

And catch up you did — champagne glass after champagne glass being knocked back, while you tried your hardest to pretend that Jamie’s hand lingering on the base of your back every once in a while wasn’t driving you crazy.

It also didn’t help that there was a woman hanging around who you didn’t know — a woman who seemed very fond of Jamie, and spent much of her evening gracing him with lingering touches of her own.

He never complained, just smiled and continued about his evening like it was only natural that he was getting female attention.

Well, you supposed, it was.

It was somewhat nice to feel back to normal, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone else was in the loop about something you weren’t.

It was five minutes to midnight now, and you decided that it was best you excused yourself for the countdown and got a little fresh air.

You were overwhelmed by suddenly being back around the Richmond squad — one man in particular — and weren’t sure you could stomach seeing Jamie’s inevitable new year’s kiss with a girl whose name you’d not even bothered to ask.

“What’re ya doing out here, love?”

God, try as you might, you would never get over the sound of him calling you love.

He was stood just behind you, the warmth of his breath fanning over your neck in the winter chill, “‘S nearly midnight.”

“I know,” was all you could muster up as you turned to face him, eyes avoiding meeting his as you took your bottom lip between your teeth.

His eyebrows furrowed as he watched how shy you were, and his hands left his pockets to tilt your chin up to look at him.

“All that time you spent away from us was ‘cos of me, wasn’t it?” his voice was quiet, almost inaudible, but it made your heart race all the same.

You gulped, “I was embarrassed. Didn’t want to see you again and be ridiculed.”

“Ridiculed? Y/N, I wasn’t gonna ridicule ya,” he shook his head, “I shut you down ‘cos I’m trying to be better. Been working on meself and I didn’t want you to do anything you’d regret with me.”

You’d met this Jamie before — this sincere, gentle, kind Jamie who was reserved only for those he held dearest. But it still startled you to hear him tell you all of this.

“I just—,”

“I wanted to kiss you, love, honest,” when did he get so close all of a sudden? “Just didn’t want you to hate me in the morning, or take back what you’d said or nothing.”

You swallowed thickly, “Jamie, I told you I liked you. I didn’t just throw myself at you and say I wanted to fuck you, or-or— anything like that. I was putting my heart out there and you just—you just laughed it off.”

“You were drunk, babe,” he sighed, “I didn’t know if you’d mean it all in the mornin’, that’s all.”

“Well, I did. Although more regretfully, after that.”

His eyes were sad now, almost glassy, as he watched you carefully to see what you’d do or say next.

You stepped back, your own eyes brimming with tears as your back met the fence of Dani’s balcony.

“I never meant to hurt ya, Y/N,” Jamie whispered, once again stepping closer, “I like you too, I just left you alone ‘cos I had some shit to get sorted before I could be good enough for you. ‘Nd I’ve been really trying.”

You finally gave in to the desire to make eye contact again, and felt your whole body crumble at the sound of his words, “You were always good enough, Jamie. I just— I thought I just wasn’t enough for you.”

He scoffed, his hand returning to your chin and his fingers caressing your cheekbones, “You’re too good for me, Y/N. Too good even for Jamie fucking Tartt.”

You let out a giggle at that, followed by a small sob, “What’re you saying here, Jamie?”

He looked down at his watch, “What I’m sayin’ is, it’s 15 seconds to midnight and I’d like to be your new year’s kiss. And, like, not to get ahead of meself… But I’d like to keep kissing you after that. Like, a lot.”

You nodded profusely, wiping away your few stray tears as you heard your friends calling out the final countdown inside, “3, 2, 1!”

He pulled you in close by your face, lips meeting yours with a furious passion as your arms enveloped the back of his neck.

It was everything you could have ever wanted… Even if you did feel fucking ridiculous for never just talking to him about it sooner.

“Happy new year, love,” Jamie smiled into the kiss.

You matched his smile, pulling back for a moment, “Happy new year, Tartt.”

You were silent for a moment as you just gazed at each other longingly, before a realisation hit you, “What about that girl in there, though? She was all over you.”

“Babe, I’m Jamie Tartt,” he shrugged, smiling smugly, “Just ‘cos the girls love me, doesn’t mean me mind hasn’t been focused on one girl in particular, even if she didn’t want to see me.”

“Oi, I wanted to see you, I was just scared to,” you stuck your tongue out as he grinned, “I’m so glad I came tonight.”

“Me fuckin’ too,” he licked his lips, “And in that dress… God, if you could see inside me head right now.”

“Down, boy,” you joked, fully conscious of the fluttering in your own stomach now, “If you’re good, you can take it off me later, yeah?”

Your lips met again hungrily now, your body pressed against the fence as you heard a round of whooping and clapping from your friends who’d found their way to the balcony now.

“A happy fucking new year indeed,” Roy showed the slightest hint of a smile as you and Jamie pulled apart again, blushing crimson, and interlocked your hands.

“Fucking finally.”

———

ok so i may have rushed to get this finish so i could post on nye — sorry if the ending is shit but i hope you enjoyed! pleaaase feel free to request more jamie if you’d like, obsessed again so i’d love that. meanwhile, here’s my masterlist!

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt angst #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso imagines

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emotionallyunstableduck · 8 months

Text

Sweet Slumber

Pairings: Geto Suguru x Reader

Warnings: angst with no comfort.

Summary: Geto was your light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, it ran out of fuel way too soon.

a/n: God, I choked up towards the end. Something about suguru's downfall deeply resonates with me, and i can't help but cry about it on a weekly basis.

When you first met your senior Geto Suguru, all you could think about was how your world seemed to stop. To say his sharp features were ethereal would be an understatement.

When Y/N Y/L/N first arrived at jujutsu tech, she didn't know what she would tangle herself into.

"Good morning I am Yu Haibara" the dark haired kid greeted you cheerfully which you politely returned. "I'm so excited to have another first year" Yu continued "we have another classmate. His name is Nanami Kento. He is on the grumpier side but I just know we will be a great trio". His contagious smile is doing wonders on you right now. Both you and Yu went to your classroom where you noticed the lanky blonde who you noted to be Nanami. The two of you indulge Yu in a conversation as your teacher entered along with three other students.

That is when you saw him in all his glory. The love your life, The cause of your death.

Soon they introduced themselves and so did you people. The white haired loud one was Gojo Satoru and His raven haired friend, the object of your immediate attraction Geto Suguru and The short haired brunette Shoko Ieiri whom you could see yourself hanging out with. The day melted away with your seniors' shenanigans and nanami's irritable attitude doubling over gojo.

That night you tried to shake your head as thoughts of your senior filled your head and it seems it wasn't exactly one sided.

Over the next 3 months your life flourished along with your ever blooming crush on Geto Suguru. The small talk and fleeting eye contact soon became midnight snack run meetings and lasting touches.

You cannot exactly pinpoint when and how you started dating. Gradually you were inseparable. You were each other's safe space for Suguru taught you what soulmates meant. Hand holding to kissing to getting lost together under your sheets, it was blissful. Beautiful. A dream.

But alas dreams sometimes morph into nightmares.

Suguru and Satoru were assigned a mission to protect the star plasma vessel. The mission went as horrible as one could think. That day Geto suguru lost a lot more than the life of Riko Amanai. He lost his way. What followed was a series of events that lead to the darkest day of your life.

Suguru looked dull. His warm smile felt empty and almost like a charade. "Sugu you are really worrying me". As you watched your beloved boyfriend slowly destroy himself, all you could do was mourne not even knowing what it is you were mourning. The rock bottom soon dug itself deeper when you and your classmates were assigned what seemed like a simple kill and come mission but oh god was that not the case.

Geto's pain multiplied the moment he lost his junior to death and his girlfriend to a coma.

The negative emotions spiraled. Losing his true north took a toll on him in ways more than one. He prayed he begged he screamed he shouted. "why" he thought. These emotions birthed clarity. Clarity that was against everything he stood for.

Soon all he was was hate.

The day you regained consciousness was a few days too late. The man you loved was no longer a man but a ravenous murderer out for revenge.

When Shoko updated you on the current situation, you thought it was bullshit. Of course you did. How could Geto Suguru ever be anything bad in your eyes.

The silent night that followed, you found yourself near the little creek at the edge of your school grounds. A place you hold dear. A place where you shared your first kiss with suguru.

"beautiful night huh" you turn around to face the owner of the familier night. "sugu" Your voice cracks "i knew they were lying". She approached the raven haired man with desparacy. "I'm glad you came. lets clear out this misunderstanding and-and we can go back to normal". The tears were barely holding as you clutch onto suguru.

"whoever said it's a misunderstanding dear". All it took to break the lie you were telling yourself. "WHY" you sobbed.

"I'm doing the jujutsu world a favour darling" he spoke. Not a slight intonation of guilt in his words. "I thought I'd take you with me. We'd reform this society together" his hands caressed your cheek "but". What followed was the most agonizing moment of your life. The man you saw your entire life with just lodged a dagger through your heart both literally and metaphorically "you remind me of my humanity".

He kissed you one last time before he laid you down on the soft grass. As he stared at your lifeless body, he knew he would never know peace.

a/n: I really want to get back to writing more often cause it is genuinely nice. Hopefully, I'll get more time from now on

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto x y/n #jujutsu geto #jjk #jjk x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk suguru #geto x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst #geto angst #geto suguru angst

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autisticlenaluthor · 7 months

Text

Midnight

“I’ve got you!” Kara says in the morning when Lena trips over trips over the blanket discarded on the floor. Before Lena can fall, she lunges forward and catches her in her arms— graceful as ever. For a second, they both laugh.

“My hero,” Lena says through her giggles. She kisses her and boops her nose. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got you,” Supergirl says when another L Corp press conference is attacked. As the crowd runs in every which direction— scattering across the park like flies, Lena makes a beeline for her. She ducks down and throws her hands over her head— Kara immediately crouching over her. Like the wind, her cape blows over Lena’s body and shields her. When shots fire, they bounce right off. They’re nothing but a startling bang and flattened bullet.

“I’ve got you,” Kara says again, her hand holding firm on Lena’s arm. “I’ll get you out of here.”

“I’ve got you,” Kara affirms at game night when it’s time to pick teams. “Right?”

Lena grins and rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Kara says, pulling Lena aside to hand her a coffee.

Lena blushes bright red.

“Kara!” Her voice is an octave higher than normal but she can’t help it. Of course Kara would interpret her disgruntled texts about how she was running late and wouldn’t have time to stop at Noonans as an invitation to buy the drink for her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, I wanted to. And you really can’t function without caffeine.”

Lena bows her head and smiles. They’ve got an 8am CatCo staff meeting in five minutes– she really did need the boost.

Running her index finger over the rim of the cup, Lena bites her bottom lip. “You really are my favorite- you know that?”

“I know.” Kara grins. “But I love when you remind me.”

“I’ve got you,” Kara whispers, half asleep. Lena curls into her, shaking like a leaf as she reaches out to hug her around the neck.

Through the darkness, Kara can just barely make out the spotty tears on Lena’s cheeks. She’s frowning, chin quivering, but still, fighting to keep the rest inside. Kara wraps her arms around her and gently pulls her close.

She’s no stranger to nightmares either– to seeing the images of her worst days projected onto the backs of her eyelids like a looping movie she can’t escape. In moments like these, she’s almost grateful they’ve been through it so many times together. It means she knows exactly what Lena needs to feel better.

“It’s okay,” Kara breathes, carefully rubbing Lena’s back. “You’re safe. It’s just a dream.”

Wordlessly, Lena sniffs. She holds Kara a little tighter– her way of reminding herself that she’s real, she isn’t going anywhere.

“You’re safe,” Kara says again. “He can’t get to you.”

“It’s okay– I’ve got you.”

Kara drapes Lena’s coat over her shoulders and puts her arm around her, effectively shielding her from the crowded clamor of the gala. At midnight, the party is still roaring. A scene with noise and flashing lights Lena hit her limit on half an hour ago.

Lena nods to herself, pressing her body closer to Karas. For a second– she doesn’t have the discretion to think about being caught in her moment of weakness. She doesn’t care about being watched or gawked at.

Because they planned for this weeks ago. Because Kara knows when Lena says they need to go, it means they need to go now. Because they never go to an event without knowing where the service exit is.

Before Lena knows it, they’re hidden away in a private hallway, on their way out of the building.

“You alright?” Kara checks.

Lena nods and manages a small smile.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I know you’ve got me.”

#supercorptober2023 #ew

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doumadono · 8 months

Text

Step into the sin bin! Sinful Sunday is a unique writing extravaganza on this blog, where I explore your every idea and curiosity about your beloved characters. Got a headcanon burning to be shared? Craving to explore a particular kink? Look no further, you're in the right spot! Send me an ask, and in return, you'll receive either a little blurb or set of headcanons! Share your thoughts anytime you fancy. Saturday morning is when the floodgates open, and the posts will come pouring in! 😉🔥

GENERAL RULES

for Sinful Sunday participation, kindly ensure you're 18 or older. Your safety matters, and I'll tag my content accordingly. Please respect this request and do your part

feel free to send your asks, thoughts, imaginations, or requests either anon or not

you're also welcome to share your own headcanons or imagines for the character of your choice! I'm eager to engage in conversations about them with you 😊

Sinful Sunday will last all through Sunday and will end Sunday night at midnight, 23:59 CET

any additional Sinful Sunday requests I receive afterward will be either reserved for the next Sunday or considered for a future request, depending on my current mood and availability

Sinful Sunday-specific tag for all asks, blurbs, and headcanons will be: #doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥

Sinful Sunday kicks off on the upcoming Sunday, September 10th!

SINFUL SUNDAY UPDATE AS OF 3/12/23

Firstly, on the Sundays of December 24th and 31st, I won't be posting anything for Sinful Sunday. Given that it's the Christmas season and I'll be with my family, I've decided that the last Sinful Sunday of the year 2023 will be on Sunday, the 17th.

Due to the high volume of requests every Sunday, it's become physically challenging to complete all of them in a single day. To address this, I'm implementing a new rule – I'll be posting approximately 5 pieces for every Sinful Sunday. Any requests remaining in my inbox will be automatically scheduled for the following weekend.

I'll be adjusting the priority for Sinful Sunday requests, giving top priority to those that come in off-anon. While anonymous questions are still welcomed, I'll be initially focusing on non-anonymous requests.

I'm aware many of you enjoy the Hantengu Clones, but I kindly request not to ask for similar scenarios with different clones once a scenario has already been published with one of them.

I'm open to delving into darker content, so feel free to share your more intense thoughts/thirsts with me without hesitation! 🔥

SINFUL SUNDAY UPDATE AS OF 31/12/23

In light of the recent poll results, I'm thrilled to share that Sinful Sunday is set to unfold bi-monthly, taking place every two weeks, starting January 14th, 2024

Any requests submitted from now on will be posted on the specified day (in the event of a substantial number of requests, they will be posted based on the order of reception in my inbox. Just a gentle reminder: I'm featuring only 4-5 pieces each Sunday!)

SINFUL SUNDAY UPDATE AS OF 15/02/24

As I'm heading to Japan on March 1st, there will be some changes to Sinful Sunday.

the upcoming Sinful Sunday by the end of February will be the last one before my Japan trip. Sinful Sunday will resume on April 27th, and I'll remind you about it in a post

SINFUL SUNDAY UPDATE AS OF 23/04/24 - TOTAL CHANGE IN FORMAT

due to the large number of 5k celebration requests, Sinful Sunday will be postponed to May 11th

I've decided to change things up for this recurring event. Since Sinful Sunday happens every two weeks, in the first week - I'll collect your requests. Then, a week before the event - I'll post a poll with all the submitted requests, so you can vote for your favourites. I think this will be the healthiest approach, especially since the last few Sinful Sundays have been overwhelming due to the influx of requests in a single day

the two works with the most votes will be posted every Sinful Sunday

all unused requests will either be deleted or saved for separate stories (only if I really like specific requests)

repeated or similar requests to stories I've already posted will be deleted

you can submit requests for Sunful Sunday starting now, and the first poll will be posted on May 4th

fandoms I write for: My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Honkai Star Rail, Genshin Impact, Jujutsu Kaisen, Wind Breaker, Bucchigiri!?, Obey Me, Haikyuu

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #x reader smut #smut #kny smut #mha smut #jjk smut #bnha smut #obey me smut #my hero academia smut #haikyuu smut #navigation #genshin impact smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #bucchigiri #bucchigiri?!

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hauntedrain · 3 months

Text

Part 2: For Our Own Sanity | Alex turner x fem! Reader |

Social media AU Summary: Alex and readers relationship turns public after a string of events.

Part 1: Here!

✮▹ A/N: Here's part 2! Hope you like it, might post part 3 later today/tonight if I finish it. Love you guys! Also I would love to hear feedback and requests <3

✰▹Warnings/Notices: Age gap, highly unrealistic album set up. Not edited.

liked by: Y/Nsloves, littleamandablank, TaylorSwift, & 17,4561,052 others

Y/N: Its turning into Valentines season isnt it?

View all 11,069,784 comments

user1: First of all SO PRETTY. Secondly, WHO TF IS THAT IN SLIDE 2?!?!

↪ user2: I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING THATS ALEX FOR SURE.

Littleamandablank: cupids angel

↪ Y/N: Luv you

↪ User3: IM SORRY WHAT?!

Arcticmonkeys: Been wondering if your heart’s still open? And if so I wanna know what time it shuts.

liked by Y/N

↪ user4: IM ACTUALLY SCREAMING WTF.

↪ user5: Hi Alex, i know its u.

↪ Y/N: 𓆩♡𓆪

liked by: Y/Nsloves, & 10,561,052 others

Y/Nupdates: Y/N Seen entering a Valentines party hosted by major star Taylor Swift, plus a leaked photo of Y/N L/N and Rumored boyfriend Alex Turner.

View all 6,096,485 comments

user6: babe I dont think its rumored anymore. like a bunch of photos have been posted.

↪ user7: its rumored because her nor Alex have confirmed anything. we shouldn't even be posting about it anyways. its their relationship.

user8: I JUST NEED TOMMOROW TO COME QUICKER I NEED THAT ALBUM.

↪ user9: I TOTALLY FORGOT TMR IS VALENTINES DAY AND AM REALESE.

Arcticmonkeys posted on their story!

captioned: Tonight. midnight.

liked by: Y/Nsloves, & 15,431,782 others

Y/Nupdates: Y/N L/N has deleted everything off her Instagram, however right before doing so she posted a story captioned "@ Midnight". Around 13 minutes later the story and everything on her account was deleted.

View all 9,495,342 comments

user10: I'm gonna die tonight aren't I?

user11: SO SHE IS ON THE ALBUM.

↪ User12: or she's just supporting her bf.

↪ User13: ALL THAT to just support him? nah she's on it.

liked by: Y/Nsloves, TaylorSwift, Littleamandablank & 21,781,732 others

@Arcticmonkeys: Thank Your Lucky Stars is out now! Thank you for the wonderful help and collaboration Y/N L/N, much love. MV out soon.

View all 12,293,564, comments

user14: OMFG FINALLY.

user15: ITS ALL LOVE SONGS OMFG.

↪ user16: "But if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us" OH IM SCREAMING.

↪ User17: OR "Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours." AHHHHH

user18: Okay but why hasn't Y/N posted or updated her Instagram or literally any of her social media.

↪ user19: She even blacked out her Spotify.

Alex turner has joined instagram!

Taglist: @mathdebate00

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: I hope you guys enjoy, I really like this fic and I also enjoy doing socail media AU's. Also requests and feedback is appreciated. Love you guys!

#alex turner imagine #arctic monkeys #alex turner fluff #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x oc #social media #smau #fanfic #my fic

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callsigns-haze · 5 months

Text

Pretty like a crime

Prologue

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Word count: 1.5k

A/n: This is the first post to my new series so please be nice! I'm going to try to make this into a series so please show this story a bit of love and reblog!

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Fighting, violence, drinking, guns, shooting, choking, cursing, gun shot, knives and a lot of violence that idk how to lable

You were back for the first time undercover at a dinner masquerade party and lets say nothing has happened yet. Your job was to obtain the organization files and deliver them by the end of the night but for now there was no sight of the enemy.

All night you've been in continuous conversation and greetings with people who you never met. It was killing you mentally. You'd do anything to be in your apartment, with your son on the couch cuddling while watching the Midnight Garden.

Through a couple of sources you've been informed that an unknown to you, agent group was on this operation too, but if you revealed to the wrong person, you'd already be dead.

"Excuse me, is the seat taken?" A strong Texan accent asked behind you. Turning, you saw a very handsome gentleman. Wearing a black button top with a black pair of fine trousers and leather shoes, he greatly showed off the blonde gelled hair that was excellently groomed and those green eyes just sparked right.

'Wait! Why are you caring how he looks or not?!' You asked yourself. You shook your head in disagreement, and he sat next to you. You take a sip of your glass filled with water; not wanting to seem to unsuttle.

"I understand you're not really into this style of events?" He inquired. You give him a slight look and softly reply, "May I ask what gave me away? My resting face of a bitch or that my body language is all over the place?" He let out a slight laugh and extended his hand to you.

"Jakob." As you reached to his hand, he delicately lifts yours, kissing your knuckles. You smile as you never experienced such a gentleman before.

"And here I thought chivalry died out a long time ago," you comment. With a stylish smirk, he shakes his head in disagreement. "There's still a lot of us around, you just gotta know where to look. If I'm not ahead of myself, may I ask for your name?"

Before your undercover name could drift back into your memory one of his friends is calling him over. A man in a black suit, quite tall with soft brown curls and a eighties pornstache. With a disappointed sigh, he excused himself with a quick apology. You were again stuck alone in silence.

The great thing about this job assignment was the masquerade. Nobody will know what hit them and what they're getting themselves into and that was the plan. Surprise. And you'll get what you want. A long time has passed of you eyeing the door, waiting for the right person to come in and your own phone rings instead with a notification.

Tamara. Your babysitter just sent you the cutest picture of your son watching tv with all his teddies aligned so they can 'Watch it too.'

Your son. So young but so passionate and so loved. He was smart for such a young age and could easily figure out people's emotions. He got easily attached and loved spending time with Tamara. God, you thank her so much.

You quickly put your phone away once you laid your eyes on the member entering.

Adanson.

The man you were waiting for. The man you were going to steal from or kill if things got out of hand. He looks so smirked and full of himself even behind the mask. This was the easy part, find out what room he's going to. Try not to pull the trigger and leave before anyone notices any drama. But it's not going to be easy.

This man is one of the greatest ghost gun and drug dealer you know. Ghost guns are unserialized and untraceable firearms that can be bought online and assembled at home. They are often sold through "ghost gun kits," which include all of the parts and often the equipment necessary to build these weapons at home.

These kits are widely available and can be purchased by anyone, including prohibited purchasers, domestic abusers, and gun traffickers — without a background check. As these kits and guns are sold at gun shows and online every day throughout the country, they undermine all of the life-saving policies that state legislatures have fought so hard to put in place.

They were also not metal so they could easily slide through security. And the drug part. Fentanyl. Fentanyl is a potent synthetic opioid drug approved by the Food and Drug Administration for use as an analgesic (pain relief) and anesthetic. It is approximately 100 times more potent than morphine and 50 times more potent than heroin as an analgesic.

You're eyes following him from behind the mask and the glass, your gaze doesn't drop at any movement. He's with his source or someone who's along the lines, the unknown man whispers in his ear and shows the door to the others. But why leave when you've just entered? Why not go around the back? And why were you the one having to follow their trail?

Oh well…. Isn't that just life… But why are they leaving through the back door? And you're right on their trail.

--------------

Sprinting. You never ran so fast through a street beforez as you were getting pursued by three henchmen. You felt the cold air as it burned to intake, and those ankles of yours were gonna twist in all but the right angles. You got it. You don't know how but you've got the organisation files but you managed to got caught so you're kinda running for your life and may I say running in heels and a red long silk dress wasn't really in your plans. Thinking you could lose them, you run down an alleyway.

It was a wrong turn, a dead end. There was no exit and no way out. 'Shit!' you thought, panting. You hear three pairs of thick footsteps of the men who have chased you and a disgusting laughter as you turn back around facing the men.

You had to fight or you'd die. The largest of the three came up to you shoving you backwards against the stone wall. "You all are the same, think you can take what they want without consequences," that russian accent was so scrappy that you'd prefer nails on a chalkboard.

"Now little girl, give us the files or are you prepared for death," he grabbed you by the neck, you spitting in his face made him take a stepped back in disgust and a flinch. The two of the men couldn't have done anything until you say.

"I think I should be asking… Are you prepared?" Smirking you start your fight as one henchman ran towards you hoping to punch you straight in the face. Giving him a roundhouse in the nose and punching him in the lower stomach, grabbing his head and kneeling him straight unconscious, you failed to see the other man coming behind with a thick metal chain, causing you to check while cutting off your oxygen access.

You started pulling and shaking which only cause him to squeeze tighter. Your vision started to go. You knew this was the end when you could only cough and not breathe. You were about to pass out but suddenly you were dropped and quickly loosened the grip for yourself gasping to catch a breath.

A gun shot.

Let's be more specific a gunshot sent from the handsome Texan blonde who flirted with you this evening. Wait where did he go? You felt a hand on your shoulder, and with the remaining stamina you had, your fight or flight response kicked in.

You grabbed a hold of his arm flipping him onto his lap, straddling his chest. You pull you knife out pressing it against his neck. " Who the fuck are you and why did you follow me?" You inquired aggressively, not knowing if he was with or against you. "I'm an agent, ma'am. I work with the San Diego Mission Force." He pulls out his badge to backup his story.

Quite shocked you don't waste time getting off him and holding your arm out to help him up which he takes,"I apologize for my aggressiveness," you looked at him, he returned a smile.

'Fake it, till you make it, that's all you had to do.'

"You were doing what anyone should have done. You've got me quite wowed that you managed to do that after getting nearly killed." Smirking, you look down, 'this man was still flirting!'

Bang.

Your que to run. You swiftly kick his from underneath his feet causing him to fall to the ground with an 'oof' leaving his lips. Grabbing your gun, which is concealed in your purse, you point it straight in between that perfect pair of green eyes, "I'm warning you, try to follow me again and I won't hesitate to kill you."

He tries to get up but you stomp your heel onto his clothed chest causing him to cough after getting wind knocked out of his chest, "Do you know who you're messing with. And I legit' just saved your life," he groans as the gun never leaves your aim.

"The real question is do you know who you've messed with." And at that you're gone. Disappeared into thin air without a trace and you left him there on the ground as the rest of the daggers come running but there's no trace of you…

Thanks to @shanimallina87 and @callsign-magnolia for ideas and support

Tagging who may be interested:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@rosiahills22

@horseslovers2016

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

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missmeinyourbones · 9 months

Note

L, pro athlete atsumu and reader for "the only kind of girl they see is a one night or a wife" has me THINKING

ONE NIGHT OR A WIFE (a. miya)

a/n: pro athlete atsumu, implied woman identifying reader -> slight talks of womanhood and slut-shaming, atsumu is trying so hard he has the spirit he’s just ken

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

When the front door clicks behind you, you're greeted with the back of a messy blonde mop peeking from above the lip of the couch. Atsumu doesn't have to turn around to know it's you coming through the door, but you don't even give him a chance to guess with the immediate interrogation flying from your lips.

"Why are we trending on Twitter?"

Amused, Atsumu turns around to catch a glimpse of your panicked face before he smirks, turning around and redirecting his attention back to the television.

"Oh, they think I proposed to you again."

His words oddly bring a wave of comfort over you, and when you exhale and plop down on the cushion next to his sprawled-out limbs, he lets his hand gently run through your frizzy hair.

And you don't pretend to ignore how it's weird that this calms you—that enough people on the internet typed and searched and chatted about the two of you to get it trending. How many people need to talk about something for it to trend worldwide? You think about googling it, but that's a headache waiting to happen.

Instead, you slump into his touch and try to keep your tone humorous when you ask, "On what grounds this time?"

Atsumu is now far from affected by the newlywed allegation, as this isn't the first (or second) time the media thinks he's popped the question to you. You always feel a bit warm when remembering the first time the rumor spiraled. How flustered he was, how he couldn’t meet your eye when opening the app for weeks, how it led to your first actual conversation about a future together.

Now immune to the gossip, he casually fishes for his phone in his sweatpants and lazily pulls up a paparazzi photo of the two of you leaving dinner a few nights ago.

"Here," he hands the screen to you, borderline yawning. “This picture from the other night,” he has the audacity to point knowingly, like it’s common sense when he says, "left hand is hidden in yer jacket pocket."

You guess he is right, your left hand is tucked away into your coat in the photo, but that's because it's almost winter, and you're human, despite what some may argue.

The photo itself isn't even anything crazy—a candid shot of the two of you walking to the car. Atsumu's hand is on your back, seemingly guiding you as you walk along the curb. Your right hand rests on your purse, and your left apparently hides a flashy diamond ring in the suede of your pocket.

Atsumu hears you scoff at the stupidity, "So naturally that means I'm your wife now?"

He smiles and scratches your head with loving fingers.

"Yup," he pops the last part of the word before looking over to you with a grin. "Apparently the rock was so big, it had to be hidden in fear of blindin' the paparazzi."

He’s teasing, it’s lighthearted, but your eyes don't leave the photo when you softly furrow your brow.

"Why do they keep assuming we're engaged?" you lowly mumble, to him or yourself, Atsumu doesn't know, but he hears it all the same. Your voice almost wavers when you weakly exhale, "This is like the fourth time."

Carefully, as if you’re suddenly made of glass, Atsumu pulls the phone from your grasp, and you don't put up a fight when he easily swipes it and shimmies it back into his pocket.

"Dunno baby,” his voice whispers as his hand finds your shoulder. “People like to talk. I can't even begin to name the craziest rumors I've heard about me."

You hum to let him know you're listening, but when you don't elaborate much more than that, Atsumu knows something isn't quite right.

Not one to let his thoughts spiral, he thinks for all about two seconds before deciding that he’s getting to the bottom of this.

He tries to act like a normal person, stretching his arms and casually asking, "Does it bother you or somethin’?"

You're quiet for a moment like you're thinking extra hard about what to say. And when you do take a deep inhale and open your mouth, Atsumu feels a bit queasy.

"In a way," is all you allow to come out.

In a way? Atsumu doesn't know what to do with that. That could mean a million things. In what way? A good one? A terrible one? A way that makes you mad at him, at the world, at yourself? He needs more from you, but he’s too afraid to ask.

You think a part of you breaks when his big brown eyes water a bit, but the tears are quickly blinked away through long lashes when he shakes his head.

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way."

You shift to sit up on your knees a bit, gently touching his jaw that's clenched to the touch. "Hey, hey no,” you watch him tilt his sour face away from you when you coo, “Not like that, don't apologize."

With the slightest pressure on his cheek, you're able to get him to face you again, where you're met with a grouchy pout and some slight hostility.

You feel his jaw twitch and unclench when you place a delicate kiss on the carved bone. Your voice is soft, cautious when it rises to elaborate.

"People thinking we're married isn't what bothers me," you gently breathe. "We've talked about it, right? We're just not ready yet."

True, he thinks, logic returning to his clouded thoughts. Atsumu nods at your words, though his eyebrows are still downturned with stress.

"Right. So what does bother ya about it?"

He watches you open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find the right way to say the right words, but there really isn't a tailored combination for the sticky conversation at hand. He almost thinks you give up until your hand tenderly rubs his stiff neck and your voice comes out barely a whisper.

"It can be tough sometimes," your voice wavers with uncertainty, "y'know, being a woman associated with someone like you."

Atsumu turns his head to you in confusion, but he doesn't say anything. Because he trusts you—he might not understand, but he trusts that you do, that you're aware of something he might not be, and that you can explain it in a way he might be able to grasp.

He watches you shy in the slightest, struggling in silence with your tongue.

"I'm either slut shamed for being someone just fucking you or written off as your property. There's never really an in-between, y’know?" you choose to shrug.

Atsumu shoots you a sympathetic tight-lipped smile because though he'd never agree, he's not stupid. He knows what people can say about you, sees the headlines and hashtags every now and then.

"Y'know," his voice comes uncharacteristically soft, "one time I read that I flunked out of high school."

Your eyebrows raise at the turn in conversation, "Did you?"

"No," he scoffs. "Wasn't a nerd or anythin' but I graduated like everybody else."

You hum in thought at his confession, but it doesn’t seem to get his point across so he continues. "One said I was on steroids, another said pills."

He takes a small amount of pride in the way your frown slightly quirks up at the corners.

"Please,” you huff out a breathy scoff, “you pout like a baby when you get your blood drawn and can barely keep up with your daily vitamins."

He fights off a smile, ignoring the teasing and resting his head on yours as he goes on.

"My favorite was that one theory that me and 'Samu switch lives regularly. Sometimes when I look a little pudgy, they claim it's him with bleached hair, so we can both live out the Olympic dream."

You actually laugh at that, a real one, and Astumu thinks the sound itself could make flowers bloom and storm clouds disperse.

"Well that one can't be true, you can't cook for shit," he hears you mumble against his neck.

"Hey now," he gently smacks your thigh at your fresh words. "The point is that people say things all the damn time and I know it's not really the same as what they say about you, but..."

His tongue falters at the touchy subject, a hill he knows he’ll never conquer but is willing to die trying to defend you on.

He thinks for a moment before saying with certainty, "But we both know what's true and what isn't, right?"

You angle your neck to look up at him with sarcasm. "And what's true? That you're a healthy high school graduate with a twin brother who doesn't play Parent Trap with you?"

"What's true," he whines a bit, flicking your forehead before placing a small kiss on it, "is that I love you, and I'm absolutely marryin' you, just when the time is right."

You melt, both at his touch and his words, and for once in his life, Atsumu knows he's said the right thing when he feels you lean onto him a bit more. He takes on the comfortable weight like an Olympic medal, one he’d proudly wear everywhere if he could.

And as Atsumu goes on and on, your night gets that much better, and the silly rumor from some stupid tabloid doesn’t seem nearly as important as it did when you first got home.

"And yer ring is gonna be bigger than whatever the paparazzi imagined. And they'll be pissed when they find out we eloped and they missed the ceremony pics. And when we actually trend on Twitter for the right reason—"

#L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu miya x you #atsumu fluff #atsumu miya fluff #atsumu angst #atsumu miya angst #atsumu fic #atsumu miya fic

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ultralightpoe · 3 months

Text

Stranger Things Masterlist

An updated Masterlist for all my stranger things works! All links should be working now!

My MAIN Masterlist is here! Last Updated : 1-31-24

"Mouthbreather."

-ALL WRITING IS AT A PAUSE BUT REQUESTS ARE OPEN!-

-Eddie Munson-

Time

Labyrinth (Midnights Album Event)

Slasher Marathon (2023 Halloween Event)

the Freak and the Princess

S-L-U-T - Part 2

Full House Series (Finished)

Part One - - Part Two - - Part Three - - Part Four - - Part Five - - Part Six - -

Final Girl Series (Paused)

Part One - - Part Two - - Part Three - -

-Steve Harrington-

Thriller (2023 Halloween Event)

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson angst #eddie munsn imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things angst #stranger things fluff

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megamindsecretlair · 3 months

Text

Midnight Sin - Chapter 5

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Pairing: Vampire!Tyrone x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Long exposition that has some smut in the middle. Fingering (fem receiving), cursing, use of N word, AU Tyrone, Toxic Tyrone. Dark fic. Dirty talk. Mentions of blood, overstimulation. The concept of "rolling" is brought up when Tyrone is able to hypnotize reader, but it is consensual. Exhibition kink if you squint. Non-inclusive language used.

Summary: A chance meeting at a club introduced you to the enigmatic Tyrone. He was interesting in ways that you weren't expecting. Tyrone invites you onto a mysterious date to introduce you more to his world.

Word Count: 4,742k

Midnight Sin Masterlist

A/N: Well alright nah, I had to swerve on back to my first love. There's some more backstory thrown into this, I hope ya'll paying attention. How has this list gotten so long? I love ya'll. I don't tag ageless blogs. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! Ageless blogs get blocked.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @umber-cinders @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap

Tyrone was being mysterious as hell. He had told you to be free tonight and that he would pick you up a little after sunset. He refused to tell you where you were going or what you would be doing and you had no idea what to wear.

“Wear anything you’re comfortable in,” he had told you and nothing more.

Now, you were in his car. He was dressed to the nines in a silky black suit, black shirt, skinny black tie and a red pocket square. You felt horribly underdressed in jeans and a long-sleeved white T-shirt.

He didn’t let you change. You were fighting yourself from asking a thousand questions. Why was he dressed so fancy and you weren’t allowed to? Was he just coming from somewhere?

You had to bite your cheek to keep from firing them off. Tyrone never gave you any reason to doubt him. He was a vampire, sure, but you’d yet to see that particular side to him. You weren’t sure how you would react. Horror? Attraction? Who knew?

He held your hand while he drove, asking about your day. His thumb stroked across yours and your belly flipped with every pass. You stumbled over your boring ass day, dealing with work. Bunch of lazy people coddled by management, what else was new?

Tyrone pulled into a parking structure, but you weren’t sure what kind. When he parked and opened the door for you, he had a smirk on his face. He pulled on his sunglasses and headed inside the doors.

It looked like…a boutique. An expensive ass boutique. The kind with perfume pumping out of the vents. Enough to be noticeable but subtle enough that it didn’t irritate your senses. The carpet was a soft cream color that felt like you were walking on clouds. There were a few racks back here, filled with long and flowing dresses. Fancy event dresses.

The back section of the boutique had been closed off with a soft pale pink curtain. As soon as you got further inside, you noticed dressing rooms and a rack of matching shoes to the dresses.

“Tyrone?” You asked.

At the sound of your voice, some tall, thin, brunette stepped from the shadows holding a champagne flute. She handed it to you with a small smile. You took it but you were just out of your element here.

“I want to take you somewhere tonight. Be more involved in my world than just my parties,” he said. He nodded to the woman who left and returned, rolling a clothing rack your way.

“There’s no way my size is in here,” you said.

You couldn’t help yourself from walking over to the rack, running your fingers through the fabric. Silk, satin, chiffon, lace. You ran over the many textures and colors already imagining trying to squeeze your ass in one of them.

“This store caters exclusively to us and all sizes,” Tyrone said.

You laughed and turned to face him. “You just think of everything, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “Try to. I want to spoil somebody. I want to spoil you,” he said.

You shook your head. “There’s no way I can afford this or accept it as a gift. This is…way too much. I’m not after your money,” you said.

You had taken care of yourself all your life, because who else was going to do it? You didn’t like handouts or charity.

Tyrone looked towards the sales clerk. “We’d like some privacy please,” he said. The sales clerk nodded robotically and left through the pale curtains, out into the boutique proper. Tyrone walked over to you and grabbed your hips, pulling you into his chest.

He took a deep breath and kissed your cheek. “I want you to spend my money. I want you to spend so much of it, the bank sends several ex-forces to shut us down. I already have more than I can spend in a thousand lifetimes,” he said. His deep, rumbling voice only sent shivers down your thighs.

“Tyrone…” you said. You were trying to think of a good argument for why you couldn’t let him pamper you. This just…wasn’t you. You liked him for him and that was all that mattered.

Tyrone’s hands slid across your hips until he was unbuttoning your jeans. Your soft, lacy panties were moved aside as Tyrone circled your clit. He hummed, finding you wet already. He dipped his hand lower to tease your entrance, gathering up more of your arousal to ease his fingers around your clit once more.

A soft moan escaped you. One hand moved over his but you made no indication for him to stop. Your other hand gripped his other forearm. This was so wrong and dirty, getting fingered in a boutique where the salespeople could hear you or walk in on you at any moment.

You never thought you had an exhibition kink, but here you were. Tossing your ass in the air for his vampire buddies to see and now for sales clerks. Tyrone licked your neck, right over your artery and you moaned a little louder.

You’d blame this on your morbid curiosity into the macabre. It turned you on a little too much that a creature capable of draining you dry was licking all over your neck like you were an ice cream cone. The push and pull between hunger, death, and sex intoxicated you. The way you were both a treat to eat and a treat to ravish.

Wasn’t it the French that called orgasms, “la petite mort”? The little death?

You felt a little like dying whenever you were with Tyrone. Maybe it was the nature of the vampire. Maybe it was because you were terrified of dying and here he offered a solution. If you asked, would he make you like him? Could you handle being a vampire?

He moved his hand faster, flicking your clit. You bit your lip to keep from moaning too loudly, too harshly. He moved his left hand up to cover your mouth while he rubbed and flicked on your clit until you were putty in his hands.

Until you were drooping, knees buckling, unable to keep standing. Tyrone bent and rolled with you but held you up. Held you open. You were so fucking close. So fucking close to that sweet hit of ecstasy.

“Say you’ll take all my money. Every last cent. That you’ll let me spoil you. That I get to treat you like my little doll?” He asked.

His hand slowed. He moved his left hand away from your mouth. “Wait, wait,” you said. You moved and gyrated your hips, not wanting to give up how close you were to cumming.

“What do I wanna hear?” He asked.

“Please,” you said. You were desperate to cum. Your body was on fire.

“I need to hear it, little doll,” he said in your ear. He finished with a small lick to the shell of your ear.

“Okay, okay, okay, please,” you moaned. You were right on the edge. Right on the edge of that cliff staring down the abyss. You only needed a push.

Tyrone chuckled and returned to kissing your neck, rubbing his fangs across your artery. His hand moved faster, flicking your clit until you were moaning and riding your orgasm. His hand returned to your mouth to cover some of it, but between the smell of sex and your noises, it was obvious to anyone what you were doing back here.

You shivered and jerked as you came down, slumping against him. He held you while you recovered. “I can’t try on dresses now,” you said, pouting.

“There’s a bathroom right over there. Nice try,” he said. He replaced your panties and zipped you up, leaving your button undone. He tapped your ass to get you moving towards the bathroom so you could clean yourself up. Bastard. You heard him licking his fingers.

Afterwards, you were fresh and clean. Tyrone had found a plush chair to relax into. He was on his phone, scowling, but when you entered, he put his phone away.

“Which dresses do you like?” He asked.

You playfully scowled as you looked over the vibrant colors. There was black, green, purple, and red to match his pocket square. You chose the red one, flaring it out over yourself. It was a sleeveless dress with a plunging neckline. It had your name written all over it.

You picked out a few more, a blue one and a purple one. “Try them on, I wanna see you in ‘em,” he said.

He really wasn’t going to make this easy on you. Fuck it. If you were going to date a vampire, you might as well receive all the perks. You were dying for him to roll you again. Spending his money was just a part of that. You deserved it, didn’t you? There was no law that said you had to play the demure card.

If you were a gold digging heartless bitch, that was one thing. You weren’t. You were an asshole sure, a bitch most definitely, but heartless? No. You simply curated which fucks to give.

You walked towards the dressing room, clutching the red dress when Tyrone stopped you. “Naw, out here,” he said.

“Really?” You asked.

“I wanna see everything,” he said.

You smiled. Maybe he was still rolling you because you felt sinful, naughty, as you pushed your jeans down your hips. You turned so that he could watch the material slide over your ass. Tyrone leaned on one elbow, fingers against his face, his pinky resting against his big, sexy lips.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but you watched him in the mirror. His attention was definitely on you.

You worked off your shirt and bra, tossing it at him. He caught it with his free hand and rested it against his knee. That sight alone made your knees weak. You loved that you were nearly naked and he was still dressed up.

You shimmied into the red dress and moved closer to the mirror. It was a mirror that had soft lighting around it so you looked at all of your angles in the three way mirror. It wasn’t zipped yet but already felt amazing on your skin. You zipped it partially, just to see how it looked and you were amazed by how sexy you looked. Your necklace even sort of matched, the small, single pearl dangling against your neck.

You turned to Tyrone who grinned, flashing his fangs. “Irresistible,” he said.

Your cheeks warmed from his praise and you turned your head this way and that. “I like it, but I want to see the others,” you said.

Tyrone glanced at his watch. “We have time,” he said.

You tried on the other two dresses which were just as gorgeous. Different styles and fabrics and you nearly moaned when you wore the purple one. However, you felt like the red dress matched you better and it matched his suit without looking too much like you were on a prom date.

The sales clerk reentered as you were slipping on the red one once more. “We’ll take all three,” Tyrone said.

You squealed and clapped your hands together. Then, you went over to the rack. Your shoe size. How he knew such things was beyond you. Maybe his vision allowed him to see your shoe size one day. Maybe after so many years of being alive, he just knew by sight alone.

“Tell me about your family,” Tyrone said as you perused the offerings. Some were a little too high for you. You wanted to be sexy, not fall flat on your ass.

“What do you wanna know?” You asked.

“I wanna know everything,” he said.

You giggled. “Not much to tell. There’s not much of us left. I come from a small family of a small family. I didn’t grow up with a lot of cousins or siblings. I have an annoying ass little brother and a mom. My dad died when I was younger, back in high school. In fact, we joke that there’s a family curse,” you said.

You selected a pair of heels, putting them on to get the full effect. It added to your height, but not so much that you felt unsteady.

“What do you mean by family curse?” Tyrone asked.

“The women in my family tend to die young in freak accidents. My grandma was one of the oldest in the family for the longest,” you said. It still hurt you terribly thinking of your grandmother. No one knew her secret and she didn’t write it down anywhere.

Your mother was just as afraid of dying as you were. There was no way to prove a curse, but as far back as anyone could tell, your matrilineal line dwindled each generation. Fewer daughters were getting born. Your grandma was an only girl, your mother an only girl, and now you.

“Why do you ask?” You asked. You went back to the shoe rack picking out two more pairs of shoes to match your dresses. Your friends were going to scream in jealousy when they saw these. Especially London’s bitch ass. You couldn’t tell them you were dating a vampire, but you could tell them you were dating a rich club owner.

You smiled evilly in the mirror as you imagined what London would say. How she would try her best to act like she wasn’t hating. She could be happy if she left Carlos’ ass alone.

“I’m trynna see if you have witches in your family,” Tyrone said.

You giggled. “Ah, no. I think we’re the total opposite of witches,” you said. Witches would know how to fight off a death curse.

Your thoughts turned towards being a vampire. You could do it. You could spare a future child from living without her mother. There was no rhyme or reason to how the women in your family died. Some were burned alive, drowned, at a young age, or at an old age. That was the scariest part.

You and your mother fought like hell not to be paranoid. To live your lives to the fullest. If you became a vampire, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. You weren’t sure how you would explain it to your mom, but she’d have to be happy in the long run right?

“You sure there’s no magic in your blood at all?” He asked.

You walked away from the mirror, moving to sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I just want to learn more about you, promise,” he said. He smiled. “Ready?”

You nodded. Luckily, your hair was already up and didn’t look half bad. You were glad you opted to put some care into it. You’d have been mortified to walk into that event looking crazy. Like lipstick on a pig. Wearing nice clothes but everything else to the wayside.

After getting the bags in the car, Tyrone took you to a makeup store. You told him it was backwards, that you do hair and makeup first and then put on the dress. He smiled. “You just focus on staying sexy and I’ll worry about everything else,” he said.

You shrugged. You weren’t going to argue. After, you were finally on your way to whatever event it was that Tyrone was attending.

He pulled into a fancy hotel in Downtown LA, the sprawling entrance trying its hardest to compete with a nicer city. Still, it was gorgeous with a fountain out front. Tyrone stepped out and opened the door for you.

You really did feel like a doll. He helped you out and you promptly took his arm. Heads turned in your direction as Tyrone handed off his keys to the valet. Yeah, you knew you looked damn good. Like celebrities walking the red carpet.

Tyrone led you towards a banquet hall. Inside, there were hundreds of people dressed up and rubbing elbows. It was like a sea of beautiful Black people. There was a spattering of white people, but the room screamed Black excellence. Was everyone here a vampire? Couldn’t be if you were here. You doubted they’d want a human knowing their inner workings.

You looked towards a banner for answers and found that it was some type of medical charity. You looked closer and noticed that it was for a children’s charity. Aww. You looked at Tyrone with a knowing smile.

“Like I said, I have enough money to buy the world ten times over. Good to do something meaningful with it. Not to mention, it keeps the hospitals on our side. The ones we don’t own won’t look too hard at us,” he said.

You shook your head, laughter spilling from your lips. “Why is that not surprising?”

You needed to ask if there was some type of donor class you could take. An introduction to vampirism and how there was one on every corner. Your neighbor could be one. Your night time nurse could be one. They weren’t always the bloodthirsty demons the media made them out to be.

You were sure there was probably thousands of acres of land out there covering up vampire kills. You were sure that with one look, they could rip your head off and suck your innards. But no one came after you just because they thought your blood smelled that good. No one was rolling your mind on the regular to lure you into a trap.

There were rules and you wanted to know those rules. You wanted to know everything. If you were going to do what your mind was thinking, you wanted to be well-informed.

“This is a vampire event. Not only are we discussing roll out donations to hospitals, we’re also keeping up with the lastest noise from law enforcement, witches, and vampire hunters. The modern age has made it easier than ever to hide but also to expose us. Vampires are cool now, you’ve learned to stop being afraid of us,” he said. He grinned at your expression, no doubt smelling the spike of fear that went through you.

You wondered if he could also smell that hit of attraction. Did he know that the thought of being at his mercy was a turn on?

He removed his glasses since he was among friends. The door you had entered through was covered up by thick curtains. No one would know that there was a vampire party in this room.

“Since it’s sort of informal, donors are allowed to come,” he said. He led you around the room, pointing out auction items. No one really loses their interest in stuff. Vampires gained and lost areas of study over the years. The pyramids, Ancient Greece, mythology, etc. Sometimes one was willing to part with their items.

“What’s your interest?” You asked.

“Legacy,” he said. He grinned at you. “I collect historical items that represent great acts of service or immortality. Like the Holy Grail, the arrow that went through Achilles, a mirror from Helen of Troy, a cane from King Ghezo of Dahomey,” he said.

His voice went up a little as he spoke about his items. They must really mean that much to him. “There’s so much I need to know,” you said and giggled.

You stopped by a standing table, the surface of the glass just high enough above your waist for comfort. A waiter walked by with champagne flutes. Others walked with wine. Hm, maybe not wine. You squinted but wasn't entirely sure.

Tyrone grabbed two flutes, holding onto the darker liquid one and handing you the champagne. Blood then.

“That’s actually my fault. I kind of skipped a few steps inviting you into this life,” he said.

“What kind of steps?”

“Usually we select our donors more carefully. Choose those already drawn to the supernatural, even for silly reasons. If they are capable of acknowledging that supernatural creatures can exist. We talk, answer questions, slowly get used to knowing that we are real. Donors are expected to offer up potential for blackmail should they want to out us,” he said. “Sex is the strongest motivator.”

And if a room full of people could claim they saw you busting it down, or that there was a video of you sucking Tyrone’s dick, you damn sure weren’t going to say anything. Should it freak you out that you were on a flash drive somewhere? In a file marked for blackmail?

Not really. Wasn’t anything crazier than the sex tape you made with an ex. You watched as he deleted everything after you broke up. All but the copy you had. If he had a secret one, he never posted it to any porn site you’d been to.

“Definitely has my seal of loyalty,” you said. You smiled. “I get it. You have to protect this,” you said.

“Well, this is cute,” Tyrone’s eyes narrowed. You turned your head to who had spoken.

A Black man stood before you with a long but sweet face, big like a football player, and wearing a nice dark suit. On his arm, there was a leggy Black woman with a small, rounded face like an actual doll. She was so gorgeous with midnight skin glistening in the fluorescent lighting.

She winked at you and flashed a hit of fang. Fuck, there were so damn cute together, it was killing you.

Tyrone stepped closer behind you, placing a hand on your hip. “Isaac,” Tyrone said.

“There’s been some talk about you getting a new donor. How you doin’ sweetheart?” Isaac asked.

You lifted an eyebrow at his date. She was just going to let that slide? She winked again and looked you up and down. Maybe you misinterpreted that earlier wink.

“She’s with me,” Tyrone said.

You wanted to look at him to confirm. That he really was just publicly claiming you like that. But you were picking up hella tension. Your intuition was usually spot on so you stayed a silent and united front with Tyrone.

“Ah, I see, I see. Too bad. She likes to play with her donors,” Isaac said.

You looked at his date and she smiled. If you weren’t head over heels for Tyrone, you would definitely try to see what that was like.

“I also heard that you had switched up your look. Walkin’ around with grills. Got me to thinkin’ that Fo-”

“Do you mind giving us a moment? There’s a lot of donors here,” he said.

You weren’t sure what this Isaac person was on about but you wanted to know more. Your nosy nature landed you in trouble all the time. But you just liked to think you were curious. You nodded and moved away, shoulders slumping that you couldn’t listen to more.

You walked over to the bar and got some water, feeling a little woozy from lack of food. Tyrone promised that you weren’t staying too long and that he would most certainly feed you. You were pretty sure he was talkin’ nasty. Everything he said sounded nasty when it dripped from those sexy lips.

“Are you a donor too?” You turned to see some of the few non-Black people here. Even in supernatural-land you couldn’t escape Black men chasing after them.

You nodded. “Oh my god! It’s so hard to tell sometimes,” she said.

You told them your name and they told you theirs. “Which one are you?” The ringleader, Summer, asked you.

She was a peaked, skinny girl with stringy blonde hair and one too many freckles. Out of the mountains that God sculpted Black women out of, these niggas still went for flat plains.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you the second donor or…?”

“Does it matter?” You asked. Nothing about this girl seemed genuine. You didn’t like how she asked all of these questions or that her friends stayed silent as if you were in a teenage movie.

“You the third one?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. One of the girls behind her smirked and you looked back at Summer.

“How long have you been a donor? I know how easy it is to get mixed up, since they rotate so often,” she said. She smiled like she was your friend. You hated nice-nasty bitches like this. What was with the hostility?

Why couldn’t they have a nice conversation and bond over being blood bags for vampires? It was straight to competition mode and you were sick of it. As if the bitch could compete with someone as gorgeous as you?

If nothing else, it was the audacity. You were minding your Black ass business and the snow patrol had to come in and break it up.

“Maybe you just can’t satisfy your vampire. Not if it takes more than one of you at a time,” you said.

Summer’s face dropped down in surprise. “I have class so I won’t give you any details, however, just know that my vampire is well taken care of. Evening ladies,” you said. You turned and headed far, far away from them.

“God, I’ve been waiting for someone to shut that ho up.” You passed by a tall Black woman with sun in her veins. Her deep brown skin was beautiful, exposed by her dark green dress. She was small up top, but more than made up for it in the ass and hips department.

And why was everyone so fucking pretty? It wasn’t fair.

You stopped walking. “I’m Nikki,” she said. You introduced yourself.

“The bitch of the ball?” You asked, nodding your head in Summer’s direction.

“She gets off on making donors cry because her poor mean Daddy won’t pay attention to her,” Nikki mocked, mimicking a baby voice.

“Fuck, that’s annoying,” you said.

“Right! She’s also probably mad because she’s been throwing herself at Tyrone for years. He won’t even acknowledge she exists,” Nikki said.

“I figured there was some jealousy in there,” you said.

“Isn’t it always though?” She asked.

For the next twenty minutes or so, you bonded with Nikki instantly. You were so in sync, it was maddening. You were into the same kind of things, loving movies and lounge dates, not one for a big overcrowded clubs. You were exchanging numbers with her when Tyrone finally found you.

“Good?” He asked.

You introduced him to Nikki who told you that she was here for another vampire. Tyrone knew that one and said she had a good one. She excused herself, with a promise to text you.

“Everything good with you?” You asked.

“Fine. Isaac is a business rival. He likes to get under my skin so I can brag about my next move,” he said.

“Does he think you’re that stupid?” You asked.

“Apparently. The mu’fucka keep tryin’ it,” he said. You giggled. Your stomach also rumbled.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. “Forgive me, let’s get you some food. Anything you want,” he said.

“Anything?” You asked.

“Anything,” he said and smiled. He pecked your lips, hummed a little, and brought his lips back to yours. “That’s what I’ve been missing all night. Some lovin’.”

You told him that you wanted to go to a restaurant on the PCH. Gladstone’s was a celebration destination, right off the coast of the beach. It overlooked the ocean and there were barrels of peanuts you could snack on and throw the shells underfoot. It would absolutely ruin your shoes, but you’d just make Tyrone buy you some more.

Hell, maybe a whole fleet of the same shoes. So you could mess them up every night wearing them to bed with him.

“After dinner, you can get all the lovin’ you want,” you said.

His eyes turned a shade darker, the red still a shock to you. He pulled you closer to him. “Don’t tease me, little doll,” he said.

You grinned. “The usual? Food and fuck?” You said. You slid your hands into his. He laughed, that wide smile tearing you up inside. You wanted to see that smile on his face all the time.

“In that order,” he said. He led you outside to his car and soon you were flying down the street, wind whipping through the open windows for a night of great food, sights, and Tyrone’s body covering yours.

Masterlist | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tyrone Files #Midnight Sin Series #Vampire!Tyrone #Vampire Tyrone #Vampire!Tyrone x Black!reader #Tyrone x Black reader #x Black reader #x Fem reader #Tyrone x Fem!reader #Tyrone x plus size reader #They Cloned Tyrone smut #They Cloned Tyrone fanfic #They Cloned Tyrone fan fic #They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction #They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction #They Cloned Tyrone

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viperrot · 11 months

Text

⇁high school sweethearts | leon kennedy | pt. 5

resident evil 4 remake leon s. kennedy x fem!band-student!reader high school au

the kennedy girls are much sweeter than their older brother, who seems to have completely forgotten the midnight serenade he gave you the night before.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

content contains: mild angst, is this even enemies to lovers? i dont know anymore., mean? leon, cliches, story is told in first person, reader is a bit shy and is an oboe and trumpet player!, leon and reader are in their juniour year, fictional town set around 1980!

not proofread i am sleepy

2689 words

song rec: "sketching on the boat" from when marnie was there

The school day was horrifically long, so much so that I found myself dozing off in my English class. The lectures given by the stocky old teachers made my head hurt as the events of last night replayed over and over in my mind, the image of Leon's crooked smile forever etched in my memory.

Despite what he did to me, I couldn't find the want to be angry at him in that moment.

The dreaded hour of chemistry rolled around, and I found myself sitting awkwardly in my not-assigned-assigned seat. Leon's presence to my right made the hairs on the back of neck raise. My fingers grip the wooden pencil tight, anxiously scribbling down notes about calorimetry in my composition book. As Mrs. Bradshaw droned on about our lab for next class and being safe, I took a peek to my right, stealing a glance at the blonde boy next to me.

His head is tilted down as he jots down notes, and I smile to myself when I remember how disgusting his handwriting was last night. His eyebrows knitted together as he quickly wrote, his ballpoint pen dragging against the college-ruled paper. Leon's hair jostled slightly as his wrist flicked quickly, and I grew to admire his attention to the lecture, but the thought leaves my mind quickly when I remember what had happened between us.

The memory of my oboe slamming into the ground made my gut turn, and I recall the smug smile Leon had when he saw the look of despair on my face.

How could he be so sweet to me despite all that happened?

I don't realize how intently I stared at him until his eyes lock onto my own, and I immediately feel my throat go dry. If my stomach wasn't hurting ten minutes ago, it's definitely hurting now. The pen in Leon's fingers spun between each digits, hypnotically looping. We exchange awkward looks, and his lips twitch and pucker slightly, as if searching for words to say to me, but he couldn't whisper anything due to Mrs. Bradshaw calling for him.

"Mr. Kennedy, you have time to ogle girls after class," she scowls from the front of the room, the think chalk in her hands still on the blackboard. The ace's attention snaps to the teacher, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes dart around in search of an excuse.

"Can't help it, ma'am," Leon says coolly, leaning back into his desk chair with a soft smirk.

"Right... Please don't let me catch you staring at Mrs. (L/n) again, Mr. Kennedy," the woman sighs, resuming her lesson. Leon throws another look my way, and I notice how his leg shakes as he continues to play with the pen in his hand. I flash him an awkward grin before turning my attention back to the notebook on my desk, wanting to focus on my notes again. The last stretch of class begins, and I find myself sneaking glances at Leon more than once.

I don't notice him returning the favour.

"Leon!" I grab the sleeve of his Carhartt jacket as we walk out of the lab, the thick fabric between my fingers as I pull him to the side. He shoots me a glare, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at me with his nose slightly turned up.

"Do you need something?" He sneers at me, eyes piercing and harsh. I swallow dryly as I recognize the hostility in his body language.

"Can we like... talk?" I press, my lips forming a tight frown.

"About what? Your stupid clarinet?" The blonde's eyebrow raises, and I cringe slightly at the sound of him calling my oboe a clarinet.

"Last night... Y'know, how you played the-"

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Leon's nose crinkles as he tugs his wrist out of my grip. I look at him confused, not understanding how he could forget such a moment between us.

"Wh- how could you forget? Remember how we-" Immediately, he grabs the strap of my bookbag and drags me to a less crowded part of the hallway, gently pushing me into a locker with his hands resting atop my shoulders.

"Listen, princess," he sighs. "I can't let people knowing I'm into shit like that, okay? I already get enough talk in this hellhole as it is," he explains to me, and I feel some form of guilt tug at my heart. Even then, I grew even more confused.

"I... but why?" I frown at the boy, feeling tense beneath his grip.

"Whaddya mean 'why'? I just... don't wanna come off as a nerd," Leon chuckles humorlessly. The look on my face deepens.

"Leon," I pull his hands away from my shoulders, holding his left with a gentle squeeze. "Music isn't something you should just... turn away from. Why not share it with your friends?" I see Leon scowl slightly as he tugs his hand out of my grip.

"It isn't that simple..." he sighs, shaking his head softly. Blonde hairs dance around his face, concealing his icy blue eyes from my gaze.

"But-"

"See you around, princess," Leon turns on his heel, readjusting his backpack as he walks away from me as if nothing happened. I feel a headache begin as I scold myself for not stopping him, for not forcing him to talk to me or even pay for the damage he did to my poor oboe. I huff, disappointed in myself as I begin to walk to the band room.

The journey isn't long, and I find myself slumped in my chair towards the back of the room as I set up my trumpet. As I checked the valves of the brass item, the mouthpiece was wedged underneath my thigh to get it warm--a habit I've had since sixth grade. The instrument was greased and oiled to my liking, the valves and slides moving without any problems.

I inserted the mouthpiece before playing a simple chorale, adjusting my lips against the instrument as I tune myself.

"Sweet pea," I hear someone call from my left, knowing immediately that it was just Samantha. I pull my trumpet away from my face, turning my body in the plastic chair to look over at my best friend.

"What's up?" I cock my head to the side, curious as to what she has to say. She's got this funny look on her face as she crouches down to my level.

"Someone told me that you're gunna be tutoring the Kennedy girls... Is it true?" The flutist whispers to me softly. I'm taken aback at this, my brows knitting together.

"Who told you that...?" I give her a concerned expression. She giggles softly.

"Sunday, after church, your mom told my mom about it. I didn't think it was true, so I wanted to confirm with you," Samantha explains, getting up from her hunched position. I roll my eyes.

"Of course she told them," I grumble, flipping the pages of my binder to find the list of pep-tunes being used for this football season. "Yeah, I am. Their dad wanted them to like... be prepared for high school or whatever," I explain, slightly embarrassed. Samantha laughs under her breath.

"I see! Well, if you ever need an extra hand, I'm a drive away," she pats my shoulder before heading to the front of the room, sitting in her chair just inches away from the podium before class began.

Trios.

Glasses of water, stands, and wooden chairs from the dining room sat in the center of my bedroom.

Anxiety filled my stomach as I sit in one of chairs, my leg bouncing up and down as I try to calm myself. The air felt extremely hot all of the sudden as I stare down the book in front of me, the inked staffs and eighth notes taunting me as I await the arrival of the Kennedy girls.

I learned that the youngest was named Sherry. She played the euphonium, and I heard she wasn't the best at it from her father the other day. The other girl, Christina, is a trumpet player. She's a year older than Sherry, and she will be enrolling into Everglade High School next year. Their father speaks pridefully about them, and I can't help but find it a bit cute.

Even so, my nerves never faltered. Especially not when the doorbell rang.

I hear my mother greet the two girls, giving them a warm welcome before stomping up the stairs and towards my room. My heart pounded as I hear a gentle knock on my bedroom door.

"(Y/n)? The girls are here," she states. I stumble out of the wooden chair over to the door, opening it wide to let them in with a sheepish smile.

"Hey! It's good to see you," I awkwardly greet them. They nod at me in a similar manner as they enter my room, their footsteps pit-patting against the floorboards as they carefully walk over to the circle of chairs in the center of my bedroom. I take a seat, which is closest to my bed with my trumpet resting close to the foot of the chair. I clear my throat, trying to ignore the awful tension in the pit of my stomach as I took in the sight of the young girls in front of me.

They sat in the dining chairs daintily, their instrument cases set against the wooden chairs as they settled down. Sherry was a frail thing with baby blue eyes and her blonde hair styled in a low pony with a sweet red ribbon tied on the crown of her head. Her baby-blue vest was checkered, worn over a white dress shirt with a blue tie just under her chin. She also wore baggy cornflower shorts that went down just a hair past her knees.

The other girl, Christina, had chocolate brown hair that flowed freely down her back in long tresses, a bit matted. Her attire consisted of a simple pastel pink sweater and blue jeans that fit her legs a bit loosely. Her eyes were the the same shade of light blue as the rest of her siblings along with their button noses and fair skin. It was easy to tell that they were all related—the Kennedy's had very prominent features, especially with those perfect eyes of theirs.

It was hard to believe these girls are going to start high school so soon with how little they look, but I choose not to comment about it, clearing my throat with a cough before speaking.

"So... let's get to know each other before we start anything...!"

Posture is everything, I've learned.

I spent a good half of the two-and-a-half-hours with the girls trying to figure out why they sounded so... stale before realizing that they were both slouching in their seats. Their backs were hunched over the slightest amount to make them sound so weak while playing, and I had noticed only thirty minutes before our session ended.

Sherry and Chris—I had learned that she preferred to be called Chris—sat straight in their respective dining chairs, shoulders back with their bums at the edges of their seats. The younger of the two looked so little with the big ole euphonium planted in their lap that I was worried Sherry couldn't reach the mouthpiece at one point. Despite our bumps throughout the lesson, I came to like the Kennedy Girls.

Sherry, despite looking as fragile as a porcelain doll, wasn't afraid to get dirty. She easily slicked her fingers up with slide grease when I asked her to check her instrument before we tuned together, and even threatened to bet with her older sister about drinking valve oil which I immediately broke up. Even so, she was soft spoken for the most part, only ever getting rowdy if she was talking to her sister.

Chris was naturally smart-mouthed—it reminded me so much of her dear old brother. The difference between her when we first began the lesson to the end was quite apparent, it was hard to believe she was shy at all. The brunette played the trumpet quite well for her age, and I found myself satisfied with how she and Sherry learned so quickly.

"I think that's a enough for today, yeah?" I rest my trumpet on my lap and give the girls a soft smile. They nod in agreement, and I watch their jaws wiggle back and worth uncomfortably. I chuckle softly. "Go ahead and pack up and then I'll walk you two home, okay?"

"Okay!" they hum in unison, immediately reaching for their soft cases beneath their chairs. I get up to set my own instrument on my bed before leaving my bedroom, walking towards the bathroom just down the hall. Halfway through the short distance, a fake cough snaps me out of my thoughts. To my right is Damien's room, the door wide open to show me his lazy self lounging on his messy bed. I raise an eyebrow at him, my arms crossing below my chest.

"What do you want, Dami?" I tap my foot against the ground expectantly. He sticks his tongue out with a blank expression, looking at me upside on his bed.

"You guys are super loud," the idiot comments. You click your tongue at this.

"We're playing brass instruments. Of course we're loud," I walk away from his door and continue towards the bathroom.

I ignore his quips as I wash my hands, making quick work to get back to the girls. When I walk back into my room, I see them close my window and lock it, and an uneasy feeling fills my stomach. The two children notice me with light blushes dusting their faces, and I cock my head to the side questioningly.

"Was I interrupting something...?" I ask hesitantly. They shake their heads as a no, hands behind their back like ducklings as they try to act innocent. I decide it's best to not pester and keep the questions to myself.

"Are you two ready to go home then? I'm sure your dad wants you home for dinner," I walk towards the door of my bedroom, motioning them to follow. I watch them pick up their instruments before waddling up to me.

We walk out to the lower story together, the two girls trailing behind me. I lead the out the door silently, bidding my parents goodbye as we stepped out onto the porch. The autumn sun began to set, painting the sky in perfect hues of gold, pink, and blue as us three walked across the street. The distance to their house was short and sweet, and we stood on the front doorstep in a matter of seconds. The Kennedy Girls turn to face me, crooked-toothed smiles on their faces.

"Thank you for the lesson today, Missus!" they beam, and I feel my heart squeeze. I ignore the fact that they called me "missus" and flash them a smile back.

"Of course. I'll see you girls tomorrow in the high school band room, okay?" I remind them. Sherry looks a bit confused, but Chris quickly nods before dragging her sister into the house. When the door opens, I spot Leon standing a few steps away in the hall, watching us with a glass of milky-pink liquid in his hand.

He looked so innocent and sweet, but I wouldn't be fooled.

The ace has a cold look in his eyes, the same eyes the Kennedy family seemed to all share. His peachy lips are pressed into a tight, thin line as he glares at me from his spot in the hall before he looks down at his sisters with a cheesy smile that reaches his ears. It was almost terrifying how quickly his demeaner changed.

The door shut close with a light slam a soft clicking sound, telling me that the girls locked it.

I hold my breath as I begin the journey back to my home, silently wishing that tonight I can hear the sweet strum of a guitar before I go to bed.

finally the fifth part UHHHH this one kinda sucked i dunno i am kinda just doing what i want but ermmm..,

stay tuned for a self indulgent side story soon,,,,.,.,.,,..?

also yay this is now officially cross-posted on my ao3 under the same username!!

taglist: @bonnibuckets @umooooo74 @kurawooooooo @ilovemen1242 @elliewilliamsno1simp @v1v1dst4rs @iyagikkun @ir3nic-sluvv

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil/biohazard #fanfic #biohazard #>>high school sweethearts: lsk #leon kennedy x reader angst

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mamaestapa · 1 year

Text

Confessions and Celebrations

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/N Y/L/N moved to Cincinnati, Ohio for a new start. Move in day arrives and she discovers something terrible...the apartment complex gave her the wrong lease. Instead of living with who she originally was supposed to, she's now living with the hottest quarterback in the NFL, Joe Burrow. Y/N is stuck living in the same apartment with him for a year...which the two are not thrilled about. However, as time goes on, they realize that maybe this wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them. Will Y/N and Joe stay enemies, or will they find themselves falling in love?

•chapter summary: You and Joe confess your love for one another and share a very intimate moment after the Bengals win…(CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT!)

•word count: 3.3k

•warnings: fluff, confession of love, SMUT, lots of foreplay, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it!!) fingering, joe loving on the readers piercing and tattoo, heavy make out.

series masterlist

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January 16, 2023

You let out a shaky breath as you pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. You just got home from the eventful night at Paycor stadium.

The Bengals beat the Ravens 24-17, meaning the Bengals are moving on to the divisional round of the playoffs! The team will be traveling to Buffalo next weekend, playing against the Bills to see who will head to the AFC Championship game.

You couldn't be more proud of those guys, especially Joe. They've worked so hard all season.

Speaking of Joe, tonight the game made you realize something. Something you’ve tried to push away and pretend it wasn't there. But you now know you can't deny it anymore.

You have feelings for Joe. Actually, screw having feelings for him.

You’re in love with Joe. And as scared as you are to tell him how you feel, you plan on telling him tonight when he gets home from the stadium. The girls asked you to go to the bar and celebrate the win with them and the guys, but you declined. You knew you had to talk to Joe about my feelings, and it couldn't be at a place like a crowded bar in Cincinnati after a Bengals victory.

You went up to apartment B30 and unlocked the door with slightly shaky hands. You opened the door and went into the apartment, setting your purse down on the counter before you sat down on the barstool. You glanced at your phone, seeing that it was close to midnight. You took a deep breath and gulped anxiously as you realized Joe would be home very soon. You needed to think about what you wanted to say to him, and fast.

You were sitting on the barstool, nervously playing with the small golden necklace with your first initial around your neck. You only play with your jewelry when you’re extremely anxious about something. You guess this is one of those times. As you were turning the dangling initial charm and going over what you wanted to say to Joe, the door to the apartment opened. You turned the chair to face the front door. Joe walked in and set his bag down on the ground so he could lock the door. He turned around with a sigh as he ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair. He must have showered before he left the stadium. As soon as his eyes landed on you, a soft smile appeared on his face. You stood up from the barstool and gave him a small smile. Here we go. You thought.

You took a deep breath before you said his name. "Joe-."

You didn't have time react as Joe rushed up to you and smashed his lips against yours. You took a step back, slightly taken aback by the sudden kiss. However, you didn't pull away. You kissed him back with just as much passion as he did. It felt like fireworks were exploding in the background behind you as the butterflies in your stomach swarmed wildly. Your mouths moved in sync as Joe wrapped an arm around your waist as his other hand was pressed firmly against the middle of your back. You both pulled away for a second before connecting your lips once again. You put your hand against his cheek, pulling him as close as you possibly could. You and Joe pulled away at the same time. Joe grabbed your left hand and held it in his own. He then pressed his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that Y/n." Joe breathed out, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You smiled and let out a soft laugh, "I love you Joe."

He grinned, "I love you too."

"I wish I would have said something sooner I was just too worried you didn't feel the same way." you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/n," Joe said softly, his tone matching yours, "I've been in love with you since the moment I met you."

Your heart soared at his confession. You were so happy to hear he feels the same way about you as you do about him. You pulled your forehead away from his and looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. His gaze full of love as he looked back down at you. You got up on your tip toes and gave him another kiss, needing another taste of his lips before you went your separate ways for the night. You pulled away from him, wetting your lips as you made eye contact with him again. As you stayed in each others embrace and looked into each others love filled eyes, you could practically feel the tension growing. The er, sexual tension, that is. The tension that has been building up for months and months and months, now practically begging to be broken.

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth as you looked into Joe's eyes. As your eyes scanned his features, you knew you needed to do something. you needed more than just his lips.

"Joe," you spoke, your breath hitching as you locked your eyes with his. His hands reached for yours and he squeezed them gently.

"I need you." you breathed out. That was all he needed to hear and before I knew it, Joe was leading me into his bedroom...

Joe pushed you down onto the bed, your plump lips meeting his. He carefully moved himself so he was hovering over your body. He brought his lips away from yours and began to kiss at your neck. You brought your hands up into Joe's blonde locks, gently tugging at the loose strands. You let out a soft whine at the feeling of Joes mouth against the sensitive skin of your neck. He began to kiss down your neck, stopping once he got to your collarbone. He pulled his head away from you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. His other hand trailed down the fabric of your black long sleeved shirt.

"I think you have too many clothes on..." he trailed off, hooking his fingers under your shirt.

He slowly brought his head up to your ear, "let's fix that." He whispered, causing you to involuntarily bite your lip as goose bumps rose across your body. Too overwhelmed to say anything, you just nodded, giving Joe permission to remove your shirt. Joe slowly pulled the long sleeve off of your body, throwing it onto the floor of his bedroom. He licked his lips at the sight in front of him. You had on a black lace bra. The sight of your breasts sitting perfectly in the cups lined with lace made Joe grow harder just looking at them.

But what got Joe even more aroused was the flower tattoo on the valley of your breasts and your perfectly pierced belly button—the one you told him about that night months ago when the power went out.

"Holy fuck," he practically groaned as his eyes scanned your body, "you're so beautiful."

You chuckled at his words. "I told you if you were lucky you'd get to see the tattoo."

Joe raised his eyebrows, "Am I lucky?"

You smirked, bringing your hand down to the tattoo on your chest, trailing your hand down your torso and stopping at the waist band of your leather leggings

"I guess we'll have to find out." you teased.

Joe brought his head back down to your collarbone, continuing where he left off before he stopped to take your shirt off. He gently sucked at your soft skin. When he removed his lips from you, reddish purple blotches were already starting to appear. It would be clear to anyone that saw you in the next couple days that you were busy celebrating a Bengals victory.

Joe left a trail of kisses from your collar bone to your chest, paying extra attention to the tattoo that was between your breasts. He then started to gently kiss down your belly. The touch of Joe's soft lips making you shiver. You threw your head back and placed your hands on Joes shoulders as he paid attention to your tummy. Joe placed one of his hands on your ribs, his soft kisses stopped as he got to your belly button. He gently bit down on the jewelry that adorned your navel, causing you to bring your hands down to Joes hair again. Who knew an act so simple could be so hot.

Joe chuckled against the skin of your tummy. He looked up at you, his piercing blue eyes full of lust. "You like that?" He questioned, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Mhm." you breathed out, completed blissed out by his actions.

He chuckled once again, bringing his head back down. However, his eyes stayed glued to yours as his tongue played with your piercing, flicking the jewelry. Your breathing grew heavy as Joe hooked his fingers under the waistband of your leggings. He placed another kiss on your belly and moved so his face was now only inches away from yours.

"I want to make sure you're okay with this. If you don't want me to keep going-."

You smashed your lips against his, pulling away and placing your forehead against his, "I want you to keep going."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded, "I've never been more sure in my life."

With your words of confirmation, Joe placed his hands on your thighs, gripping onto your clothed legs. He brought one of his hands up to your waistband, taking a long finger and tracing it down your clothed crotch to the inside of your thigh.

"Take 'em off." you begged, desperate for Joe's touch on your bare skin, "please."

Joe smirked, "Don't mind if I do."

He pulled your leather leggings off with ease, almost as if he's done this many times before. Which, you were sure he has. He was with his ex for many years before you were even in the picture, and even you have had your fair share of hookups.

But this felt different—almost special, for both you and Joe. Months of sexual tension would come to an end in just moments.

With your leggings off, you were left in just your bra and matching black lace thong. Joe licked his lips at the sight of you. You looked up at him with those doe eyes Joe found himself getting lost in every time he locked eyes with you.

"It's not fair that I'm practically naked and you're not." you said, pushing out your lower lip in a pout.

Joe got up from the bed, standing in front of you, and making it a show to take his belt off and pull his jeans down to his ankles. Once they were off he tossed them into a pile with your clothes.

You bit your lip at the sight in front of you. Joe stood in front of you clad in black boxers. His thick thighs on display now that his jeans were off, and his broad chest, defined abdomen and muscular arms looked absolutely divine in the lighting of Joe's bedroom.

"Like what you see sweets?"

Your cheeks grew red, the pet name making you feel your pulse in other areas of your body. Joe chuckled as he took a few steps closer to you. You laid back on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as Joe passionately kissed you. He gently pushed you down on the bed, his lips still attached to yours. You wrapped your arms around Joe, letting your manicured nails softly trail down his bare back. Joe pulled back from you, looking at you with his lust filled eyes. You eyed Joe as you hooked your index finger under the waistband of your thong, pulling the lace material down your legs. Joe glanced down, a smirk on his face as he saw your glistening folds.

"You're so wet and I haven't even touched you yet," he smugly stated.

You whined at his words, your hands reaching out to grasp his biceps. He leaned down and smashed his lips against yours, both of your mouths moving in sync. He pulled away, his blue eyes soft but full of so much lust.

"I want to touch you Y/n."

"Please..." you whined.

As soon as you gave him permission, Joe brought his hand down to your right thigh, stroking the soft skin of your inner thigh. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his hands on your skin. His fingers hovered over your clit, making you squirm with anticipation. He placed one finger into your entrance as he circled your sensitive clit. You gasped at the feeling, beginning to buck your hips beneath his touch. He pushed your hips down with his other hand, pressing onto your lower belly to hold you still.

"You gotta stay still for me."

You just nodded, arching your back slightly as Joe started to pump his fingers in and out, rhythmically.

"Hmph-Joe." you moaned out. You were completely taken over by a feeling of bliss, feeling yourself grow closer and closer to your orgasm.

He smirked at you as you grabbed onto his forearm, digging your nails into his skin as his muscles flexed with each swift movement of his fingers.

"Joe," you breathed out, "I'm so close-uh."

He thrusted his fingers into you one more time before pulling them out which caused you to whine. Joe eyed you carefully as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your juices off of them. He slowly removed his index finger from his mouth with a pop.

"You taste so fucking good."

You bit your bottom lip at his words, you knew you needed him badly.

"Joe, I need you,” you whined, pleading for him to be inside you.

Joe smirked and placed his hand on your thigh, his fingers trailing up your tummy and eventually cupping your left breast. He reached around your back and unclasped your bra with ease. The black lace material fell off your chest, leaving you fully exposed. You blushed as you saw Joe looking over your naked body. You were starting to feel bashful as his eyes stayed on your body. You tried to cover yourself, but Joe gently grabbed your wrists and shook his head.

"Don't. There's no need to be shy, sweets. You look absolutely gorgeous."

You smiled softly at him, pulling your hands away from your bare breasts. Joe pulled his boxers down, throwing them to the side. Your eyes fell to Joes erection.

"Are you ready?"

You nodded. Joe hovered over you, gently grabbing your hand and holding it as he kissed you with passion. He pulled away and lined himself up with your entrance, slowly thrusting into you. You whined as your hips began jerking up at the sensation.

"O-Oh! Fuck-Joe."

He was big-very big and you weren’t quite used to his size. Joe's hands gripped your hips, trying to control your movements every time he thrusted into you. Your nails scratched down his back as his thrusts grew deeper. You whimpered as his cock pushed against your cervix. You were overcome with a feeling of pleasure, something you hadn't felt in months. Arching your back, you moaned out Joe's name as you grew overstimulated.

"S' too," She breathed out, "mhm, much."

"You can take it, beautiful." Joe grunted. He knew both of you were needy and deprived; however, he made sure to be gentle with you, not wanting to hurt you.

Your breathing picked up as you brought your hands up to Joes head, pulling strands of his messy blonde hair. He buried his face in your neck, groaning softly. Both of your bodies molded together perfectly, moving in sync with each other. You moaned as Joe picked up the pace of his thrusts.

"Oh Joe," you moaned, your face contorting into that look of pleasure. A bead of sweat trickled down Joe's forehead, as he let out a grunt.

"God, you feel so good."

Your breathing grew quicker as you felt a familiar warmth pool in your lower belly.

"I'm so close." You whined as Joe’s thrusts sped up. He squeezed your hand, both of your moans filling the room every time Joe thrusted into you.

"Joe," you whimpered, "I'm gonna-mmh.” you moaned incoherently.

"That's it," Joe grunted, "cum for me, sweets."

Joe moaned as your walls tightened around him, signaling that you were very close to coming down from your high. Within moments, you cried out in complete bliss as you came on Joe's cock. His grip on your hand tightening as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you were overcome with pleasure. Joe grunted as he thrusted into you a couple more times before he himself came. The two were now glistening with sweat. He leaned down and kissed your plump lips as you both caught your breath and came down from your high. He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours as both of your chests heaved. He pulled out of you and plopped down on the bed next to you.

"That was amazing." you breathed out, chest still heaving.

Joe chuckled, "You were amazing."

You turned to face him, quirking an eyebrow up, "Really?"

He nodded, turning his body so he could face you as he replied, "The best I've ever had."

You blushed at his words. You cant believe this all just happened. For weeks now, you and Joe have had very strong feelings for each other. Of course, you never told each other until tonight, but it was very obvious. It was only a matter of time before something happened between the two of you. Joe opened his arms and gestured for you to come closer to him. You moved yourself closer, curling up against his body and laying your head on his chest. He draped his left arm around you and pulled the comforter of his bed over your naked bodies. You sighed in contentment as you listened to his heartbeat.

This all didn't feel real to you. This all felt like a dream. You and Joe finally confessed your feelings for each other tonight. You kissed for the first time tonight. You had sex for the first time tonight. So much has happened tonight and you couldn't be happier.

Joe Burrow truly is something special.

Your mind wandered to when the two of you first met. You and Joe didn't get along, at all. But as time went on, you slowly warmed up to each other and realized the other wasn’t so bad after all. Eventually, he became more than just your roommate. He became your friend. Then you started to get those butterflies every time you got home and saw him on the couch or when he was out on that field at Paycor. That's when you realized he was more than just a friend and a roommate to you. You felt your eyes grow heavy as Joe pulled you closer to him.

"Goodnight Joe."

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, "Goodnight."

Joe began to gently stroke his fingers along your arm, soon lulling you to a peaceful sleep.

Now, you don't know what the future holds for you and Joe, but after tonight, you know it's going to be great, no matter what.

hi loves!!

well the wait is finally over and the moment we've all been waiting for is finally here... you and Joe confessed to one another, woo hoo! aren't y’all just too sweet🥹

although i do love a good tooth rotting fluff chapter, i figured i'd add some smut to this chapter too because who doesn't love that? ;)

i deeply apologize if the smut was underwhelming, not good, and not what you were expecting. i tried my best! (please be nice if you absolutely hated it lol)

this story will be coming to an end very soon! can you believe it? i sure cant! the next chapters just include establishing a relationship, some more cute little chapters, and then some instagram chapters.

i want to take a moment and thank all of you for reading this book and supporting me through it. without your kind words and encouragement, i probably wouldn't have stuck with this book. i love all of you so much🤍

i hope you're all doing well!

tags: @jackharloww @ilovejoeburroww @dandelionwrites8 @ijustcrypretty @sinners-98-world @a-moment-captured @stainednailpolishremover @spooky-stoner @xoxokiaraaxoxo @kkrenae

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #welcome to the jungle #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut

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