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#and dragon one-of-the-Water-Siblings
muffinlance · 1 year
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Scaled Over 3: The Golden-Eyed Girl
Latest chapter || Read from the beginning
The privateer had found the prize of the pile: a solid black molt, buried under the more common blues and grays of her people. He rubbed its edge between his thumb and forefinger.
“Younger than I thought, with how few of these make it to market. A teenager around the prince’s age should be shedding more. Is… he getting enough to eat? …She?”
“I’m sure they are,” Katara said, trying not to feel her own skin crawl. It wasn’t impossible to tell a dragon’s age from the thickness of their molts. Obviously. But it was a skill that required a fair bit of hands-on experience.
Story Summary:
At thirteen, Zuko knelt on the Agni Kai field and proclaimed himself his father's loyal son. But when fire touched his face, his dragon form begged to differ.
Dragon!Zuko AU.
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bluegreysilkie · 26 days
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Tensions rising during witness protection
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oars · 7 months
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fontaine is also definitely my favorite region now im not sure if anythings gonna beat it. its an unfair competition
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kastalani123 · 1 month
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Mmmmmmmm, but what if Estelle grows up without knowing about the Greek myths being real?
What if Sally and Paul look at Percy, who's hesitant to hold his baby sister for fear of drowning her with blood-drenched hands, who eventually holds her like she's made of glass because the Destroyer is afraid of breaking her, who shoves his face into his pillow to keep his nightmares from waking her up–
What if Sally and Paul look at Percy, seventeen years old with the world resting on his shoulders since he was twelve, and ask, "Do you want her to know?"
And he wonders. He thought it'd be a given, that she'd grow up surrounded by monsters and magic, that he'd make fish made of water swim around her to make her laugh, that there would be no secrets as to his life's horror.
But he wonders. He thinks that, maybe, she won't have to grow up afraid of her own shadow. She's mortal, after all. There is no ichor in her veins. There is no guarantee she will be Clear Sighted.
There is no reason she can't live a normal life.
There is no reason she has to be woven into the Fates' tapestry beyond the barest of mentions.
He wonders, and he decides no. No, this one person, this little bundle of giggles, this reason that motivates him to learn healthy coping mechanisms, this little sister of his — she will not be forced to grow up so fast. She will not hesitate making plans for her future in fear of never making it that far. She will not suffer scars from things other than risky bike tricks and tumbling down a hill.
This one person that he can protect, for once in his life. This one person that he will protect, from both of his worlds.
Oh, it's not that she doesn't know anything. He makes sure she knows as many myths as possible, as many ways to protect herself as she can learn, as many people and places that can help her if she ever needs it. She grows up with bedtime stories about winged horses and giant dogs and a number of human-animal hybrids. She dreams of a brother with a scarred lip and a girl who loves too much and a sister who usually thinks of her sibling before herself and a boy who can tame dragons, and sometimes it's like her dreams are real, like she actually knows the characters from her brother's stories. She learns to recognize unfairness and abuse, to stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves, to make things right even if she has to force unwilling hands to do what she wants with trickery.
She knows so much.
But she never climbs a wall flowing with lava. But she never picks up a sword and dons a set of armor. But she never learns her loved ones' scars don't come from unfortunate accidents. But she never flies through the sky on helpful wings. But she never dives into the depths of the ocean in a bubble of air. But she never gets lost in a house that's always changing its layout to suit its occupants' needs. But she never watches her home in ruin. But she never runs from an inferno consuming the world around her. But she never cradles a friend's body as the life drains from their eyes.
But she never stops being an ordinary mortal.
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domaintern · 2 years
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me trying to think of ways to improve kisara: lol she should be TKB’s sister
me, immediately: wait no that would be awesome. siblings are a Thing in the manga so them having an arc about that would fit and be good for both of them, they both have God-esque light-type kas, which could be explained as them both getting supercharged by what they witnessed as kids (and the abilities of their kas being, respectively ‘HIDE HIDE HIDE’ and ‘BITE KILL DESTROY’ fit with that as well) seto’s ‘actually i have decided my girlfriend is more important than the gods’ moment during Battle City could turn out to be a reflection of Set, in the past, choosing to fight Atem bc of Kisara sharing a bit about her backstory and then their romance actually would have SOMETHING to it. also she could stand to have a more TKB-esque personality, the BEWD is such a Loud creature and is so associated with seto’s pride and drama that her being loudmouthed and wildly confident would fit way better than her extreme sleepy damsel canon personality. as to why TKB never thinks about her, maybe zorc just messed with his memories to isolate him more
me @ myself: we are partly just reinventing lup adventurezone
myself @ me: And What Of It
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everparanoid · 4 months
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Comforting you after a nightmare w/ Genshin men
various genshin men x gn! reader
cw: fluff, slight angst if you squint--like really squint.
Characters: Wriothesley, Ayato, Neuvillette, Alhaitham, Diluc, Itto
Wriothesley
Wriothesley often finds himself retiring to bed quite late, though not as frequently as one might assume. After a long night immersed in Meropide’s paperwork, he falls asleep almost instantly, maintaining a slight distance so as not to disturb your slumber this late into the night. When a nightmare stirs you awake, leaving you sitting up and staring into the darkness, unable to return to sleep, Wriothesley, who is no stranger to the torment of nightmares, opens his eyes and assures you that everything is okay. Without needing any explanation, he sits up, ready to keep you company, so you’re not left alone with your racing thoughts and the enveloping darkness. He understands the loneliness that comes with being alone with your thoughts in the dark, and he doesn’t wish that for you. If you feel the need to talk about it, Wriothesley is all ears. A good listener, he won’t pressure you into saying anything, but if you wish to share, he’s there to listen. He won’t attempt to interpret your nightmare or dismiss your feelings as irrational, he’ll simply listen. If you seek comfort, he’ll hold you in his arms until your breathing steadies and you drift back into a peaceful sleep. Don’t worry he’ll join you soon after.
“Huh? Oh, so you had a bad dream? It’s okay. I’ve got you. Do you want to talk about it?… No? That’s fine. We can just stay here till it goes away.”
Ayato
Ayato, much like Wriothesley, often arrives late to bed. However, when a nightmare stirs you awake, he springs into action, ready to shield you from any physical threat that might have breached the estate’s defenses. Ayato is a light sleeper, a habit formed after numerous assassination attempts following his parents’ demise. The rare instances of peaceful sleep he can recall are all linked to the times you shared his bed. Once he has ensured the room is safe and there are no threats, he sheathes his blade and returns to bed, seeking to understand your distress. Unlike Wriothesley, Ayato attempts to rationalize your nightmare, aiming to soothe your rapid breathing and fearful gaze. If you seek comfort, he will draw you into his embrace, sharing tales of his suspicious meals and the interesting dishes he has persuaded Thoma to consume, until your nightmare recedes and your smile, the one he cherishes, returns.
A sudden voice outside the door might startle you, but Ayato will reassure you, explaining it’s merely Thoma with tea. Having heard the commotion, Thoma decided to bring tea to calm your nerves, a practice he often employs for the Kamisato siblings when nightmares disrupt their sleep. The warmth of the tea in your belly, coupled with Ayato’s soothing whispers and gentle laughter, lulls you back to sleep in his arms. Although sleep may elude him, seeing you at peace is all that truly matters to him.
“It was just a nightmare. It can’t hurt you, not when I’m around.”
Neuvillette
Neuvillette is likely to be burdened with other people’s haunting memories, a consequence of his bond with the element of water as the Hydro Dragon Sovereign. This means that when nightmares stir you to tears and if the water graces his skin, he too experiences your nightmare. Without opening his eyes, he draws you closer, gently wiping away your tears. To him, emotions experienced in nightmares are as real and valid as those felt in waking life. His proximity to you softens the harsh edges of your dreams, unknowingly easing you into a more peaceful state. Gradually, you find calm and drift back into sleep, your dreams now filled with tranquil waters.
Alhaitham
Alhaitham, much like Ayato, will seek to make sense of your nightmare upon your awakening. Your sudden movement disrupts his slumber, initially causing a flicker of annoyance. However, recognizing it’s you, he endeavours to comfort you in the only way he knows - through reason. With his eyes still firmly shut, clinging to the fading warmth of sleep, he begins to whisper words of reassurance. Over time, he learns that tender words have a greater soothing effect than cold, hard logic. Once the sound of your rapid breathing subsides, and if you express the desire, he casually lifts an arm, inviting you to snuggle into him until sleep claims you both once more. Though he may appear to drift off before you, his steady breathing and closed eyes are a facade. In reality, he remains in a state of semi-consciousness, patiently waiting for you to succumb to sleep before he allows himself to return to the realm of dreams.
“Calm down. What you are experiencing, though it may feel real, is not. You are fine.”
Diluc
Diluc too is haunted by nightmares. His dreams, much like Wriothesley’s, are vivid and painfully real, replaying the chapters of his past he yearns to forget, yet is bound by their torment. This is why sleep eludes him. As dusk falls, he embraces his role as Mondstadt’s protector, a duty that provides a refuge from the inevitable torment that sleep brings. When he met you, the intensity of these nightmares ebbed slightly. Although sleep remains a distant acquaintance, he finds solace in returning to the Dawn Winery just before dawn. There, he lays beside you, silently observing as the night bids farewell to the day. Should a nightmare disturb your peace, he is already awake, prepared to offer comfort. He understands all too well the pain of reliving time-warped memories. Regardless of your preference for physical contact, Diluc remains by your side, a steadfast presence as you both welcome the sunrise, allowing the dawn’s gentle light to cleanse away the night’s demons.
“Don’t worry, it’s dawn,”
Itto
Itto, even with his jovial nature, is no stranger to the occasional nightmare. Though his tend to revolve more around beans than most. When a nightmare jolts you awake, Itto doesn’t stir until he hears you call his name. He opens his eyes, still heavy with sleep, and upon seeing the distress in your eyes, moves to comfort you. His voice is softer and more gruff than its usual boisterous tone. He beckons you closer, and once you’re nestled in his arms—your limbs entangled with his like a weighted blanket smothering your senses— he begins to trace small circles on your back. If words of comfort fail to soothe you, he’ll sing a little impromptu song about him, your oni, scaring away the nightmares. It is a tune that brings a smile to your face. You may not find sleep again, even after Itto drifts off mid-song; but knowing he’s there beside you, offering his unwavering support, is all that truly matters.
“Hey hey hey, shush, calm down. It’s alright, no nightmare can get you when the Arataki Itto, the one and oni, has got you. What? Don’t think you can sleep again? That’s alright. Hey, how about I sing a little song I made up just now for you? That will surely get rid of all those pesky nightmares.”
masterlist
I hope you all sleep better than me.
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mayaree-darling · 4 months
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Water... Connoisseur?// Neuvillette
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synopsis: Neuvillette shares his love for water tasting with the Creator (ft. Paimon and the Traveler)
from aree: this was supposed to be a short funny little thing but as always i can’t keep my mouth shut and now this is 17 pages long
content: Creator!Reader; smol spoiler(?) for and inspired by Neuvillette's story quest and profile/voice over; Reader and the Traveler (and Paimon) have Siblings Energy; I headcanon that the Traveler can see their inventory the way us players can; Pure Crack; Probably OOC Neuvillette
fic length: ~5.3k 
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You are the Creator of Teyvat, spending time with the Traveler, Paimon, and Neuvillette. At one point, the Iudex offers for the four of you to take a break in his office and he'll fetch you some refreshments. Almost immediately, you see from the corner of your eye the Traveler and Paimon stutter out that they'll get the drinks themselves, but it's too late. You didn't see what was wrong with Neuvillette offering something to drink - if anything, you're curious to know what kind of drink he'd prepare for his guests. This was your first time tasting what Fontaine had to offer. So you let him go. 
When Neuvillette leaves the room, the traveling duo beside you share a heavy sigh. You turn to them and ask what's wrong. They share a meaningful look. You'll see, they say.
Eventually, Neuvillette comes back rolling a small food trolley in front of him. On top are four silver pitchers and four goblets. Paimon sheepishly laughs, "Here we go."
You step forward - because it's clear to you Traveler and Paimon have no plans on taking initiative - and Neuvillette motions to the pitchers. 
"Each one is from a different nation. I hope that you'll find at least one of them to your tastes, Your Grace. I assure you they are all of high quality, although I have no doubt of it since they are a part of your creation, after all. Personally, I can't say I favor one over the other. I find each one particularly special in its own way, so I must apologize if I cannot give you a recommendation." 
You frown. You... made them? You don't remember something about creating a drink for each nation. Was this a recipe from your old life that only a dragon sovereign could remember? The Traveler clears their throat and mumbles something under their breath. You turn to them questioningly and you watch bemused as their mouth ticks up at the corners.
"It's water." The Traveler looks at everything in the room before their eyes land on you.
You blink. "Excuse me?"
"Haha.. It's just water... The drinks..." If Paimon was standing on solid ground, you think she would be bouncing on the balls of her feet, her arms behind her. When she meets your eyes, she lets out a sheepish laugh. "That's what Neuvillette means by they're from every nation. They're... spring water from different places."
You slowly look at the Traveler and Paimon in turn, hoping for a deeper explanation or for them to tell you they were pulling your leg, but both of them refuse to look you in the eye. Your mouth is opened to a permanent gasp of understanding as you turn back to the food trolley in front of you.
Oh...
"Is there something wrong, Your Grace?" You almost regret looking at Neuvillette. Although he doesn't usually show his emotions, it's almost like he can't help but show you how dejected he looks. To put it simply, it felt like you kicked an otter to the curb, sad puppy eyes and everything. You half expect it to start raining outside that instant. "I can arrange for the Melusine to make something else, if you'd like. I'm sure they'd be honored to -"
"NO! No. It's okay. It's fine, Neuvillette. Thank you for the offer, but it's fine." You shoot a frown at the duo, who have taken to plastering themselves on one of the many sofas in the room, intent on letting you handle the water situation. You breathe in and take a step forward, taking one of the goblets. "You said each one is special, right? I'm sure they'll taste... nice..."
You pointedly ignore the Traveler as they grumble once more (you pretend you didn't just hear Paimon say "no it won't"). You look at each of the pitchers and pretend to be thinking hard about your choice. It's kind of hard to make a choice now that you know they're all just water. Your only saving grace is you know where they came from.
"I think I'll start off with... Sumeru!" Neuvillette all but beams at your decision and picks up the selected pitcher. You're glad he did because you didn't know which was which. You pray to Nahida that you didn't make a bad choice (the God of Wisdom has yet to fail you since your descent and you hope that she has your back this time, too.) Holding out your goblet, you watch as Neuvillette fills the cup half way, almost hoping there's a telltale sign of a difference (or it's a different drink altogether).
It's just water.
"A wonderful choice, Your Grace. This particular water comes from Apam Woods of Sumeru. You'll find the taste to be rich and complex. Despite usually having to take the time to savor it to fully appreciate it, I'm sure Your Grace will have no problem distinguishing its special flavor, which is unlike any other."
Did he have to put the pressure on you like that? 
You laugh sheepishly as you fight to give Neuvillette your best thankful smile. Taking back the goblet, you stare at your drink, deciding your best bet was to examine it if you were going to "savor" it. Maybe it was a different color? No, it's still translucent in nature. Swirling it a few times, it doesn't appear to have a thicker viscosity as it sloshes around your cup. As for the smell it was- 
Wait. Huh?
"It's fragrant," you mumble. Only when you hear yourself clearly do you realize the room is silent. Looking up, you see Neuvillette staring at you, and behind you, even the Traveler and Paimon have taken an interest in your exchange. All eyes are trained on you, watching your reaction. You look back to Neuvillette as he lets out a hum.
"It's... fragrant? I must say, even I have never thought to discern its smell. For a moment, please," Neuvillette steps forward and takes a goblet for himself, pouring water from the same pitcher. He pulls the goblet up to his nose. "Hmm. As I thought. It seems I am unable to smell this fragrance you speak of. How interesting."
"Wait. If you can smell it..." You turn to Paimon as she looks at the Traveler. When they look at you, their eyes are expectant.
Surely, you can...?
Looking at Neuvillette, he gives you an encouraging nod. You raise the goblet to your lips and take a tentative sip. And then another. And then... another? You lower the goblet, and then turn to the Traveler.
"It tastes like flowers." You know you and the Traveler share the same incredulous look. You can just feel the disbelief and confusion pulling at your face. Looking at Paimon, she's just as confused, head in her little hands. "When I focus on it, it's floral. Kind of like... tea? Like herbal tea, just less strong. It could even be perfume."
"Marvelous," you look at Neuvillette, and it's clear to you he does not sense the growing bewilderment you and the other two are going through. He smiles at you softly, and you don't have the heart to tell him that water isn't supposed to have a flavor. "I don't seem to recall anyone else sharing my taste for water. But I must say - even I am unable to perfectly put a name or a description to the flavor I experience. It's almost always a feeling."
"WAIT! Waitwaitwaitwait! I wanna try, too!" Paimon rushes to your side and takes your goblet in her hands, ready to drink it. You hear Neuvillette clear his throat and turn to him as he fills the other two goblets with Sumeru water. Paimon lets go of your goblet and goes to take one for herself. You see the Traveller stand up and grab one too. "Is it different from the one we had before? Wait, but it's from the Apam Woods, too..."
The Traveler and Paimon take a big gulp at the same time, licking their lips and savoring the taste before eventually they click their tongues in unison.
"Nope." The Traveler laughs, almost amused and defeated at the same time.
"Nothing's different. It's the same water as last time!" Paimon stomps her little feet in the air. "Are you pulling Paimon's leg?"
"Of course not. However, I am curious. If it is fine with Your Grace, I would love to hear more about what you can taste," If you were honest, you didn't want any more of the spotlight on you - being the Creator, you've had enough of that. But Neuvillette seemed so happy in the moment you couldn't possibly refuse him. 
"Well, besides smelling and tasting like flowers," you take a sip, letting it roll on your tongue. "It also has this sort of herby aftertaste? But only when I focus on it. Kind of like basils? Or rosemary? I can't tell you for sure what kind, but it kind of tastes like that."
When you turn back to them, you're surprised to see Neuvillette looking at you in confusion. Did you say something wrong?
"He doesn't know what those are, dummy," The Traveler sighs. You watch as they take a metal shaker out from their inventory and start preparing a drink of their own. Paimon watches on, excited of drinking something that wasn't just water. "They don't have those here in Teyvat, remember?"
"Traveler, I implore you to watch your words. Was it necessary to call Your Grace as such?" Neuvillette frowns. 
The Traveler shrugs and you both share a secretive smile. "They prefer that over 'Your Grace', though."
Neuvillette turns to you with concern. "Is-is that true, Your Grace? Why would you prefer that name? I can't quite say I agree with that decision but- "
"It's fine, Neuvillette. I forgot you didn't know any of those herbs, so I'm sorry for that. Just know the water tastes like it has a bit of herbs or spice to it." You shake your head with a laugh, thinking of a way to change the subject. "Anyway, can I taste the other ones?"
Neuvillette almost visibly lights up at that and takes another of the pitchers, filling your emptied goblet with more water.
"This one is from Inazuma's Konda Village. For its mouthfeel, I find it quite placid." Neuvillette looks at you expectantly. You're reminded again of a puppy, or in his case, an otter. A very cute otter. As you put the goblet to your lips, you have half a mind to gift him a seashell.
You take a sip and almost immediately spit it out. In an instant, Neuvillette is by your side, throwing the goblet halfway across the room. Before you realize it, you're in his arms and he has half a mind to bolt out the room to get you to a healer until you stop him.
"WAIT! Wait, Neuvi, just calm down-" you descend into a coughing fit.
"Your Grace! What's wrong? Is it poison? Were you poisoned?! Oh no, Paimon can't look-" 
"That's preposterous. I prepared the drinks myself," he says that, but Neuvillette talks like he's suddenly doubting himself. 
"You sure you don't need to get healed?" the Traveler frowns in concern, turning your face this way and that, looking for signs of poisoning.
You shake your head again and swallow down another cough, clearing your throat. "No, no, I don't need a healer. I wasn't poisoned. I just wasn't expecting to suddenly take a shot of sparkling water." 
The Traveler blinks, there's a pause as it sinks in, and suddenly they stand up and head back to the food trolley. They pick up the shaker they unceremoniously left when everyone panicked and resumed making their drink.
"Traveler, are you gonna make medicine for the Creator?" Paimon floats around you in concern. 
"You guys can stop panicking. They're not gonna die," the Traveler sighs and looks at you with a face that can only be described as 'Are you for reals.' "I think they were just surprised with how the water tasted."
You motion for Neuvillette to let you down, which he does albeit very hesitantly. You merely laugh at the concern on his face and give him a pat on the back to reassure him that no, the Creator was not going to die on his watch just because of a bad drink of water. 
The Iudex frowns hard looking at the pitcher of Inazuman water. "You called it... sparkling water? Pardon me if I'm wrong, but am I to assume water from Inazuma has different visual properties? Does Your Grace see something we are unable to? And if so, does this difference have an effect on the taste?" 
You shake your head again for what seemed like the thousandth time, before you stop and think about it for a second. You head to the food trolley and pick up Paimon's empty cup. Pouring Inazuman water from the pitcher, you watch as normal looking water fills the goblet. The normal fizzle of bubbles you expect from a carbonated drink is not present, even as you swirl it around. 
Before Neuvillette can stop you, you take a sip of it again. You hear him stifle a gasp. His hand is on your shoulder, ready to bring you to Sigewinne at record speed if needed. But you weren't mistaken - it really does taste like sparkling water. Weird. You turn to Neuvillette and try to look as reassuring as possible.
"So, back from... where I came from, we have this drink called sparkling water. It's not that it was particularly, uh, sparkly, but it did have a lot of bubbles. The water from Inazuma here looks like regular water, but it does feel like sparkling water in your mouth," you explain slowly. The look of doubt doesn't leave Neuvillete's face. "It's also not deadly for us, just like how this water isn't. I mean, you like drinking it, right? That means it's fine for consumption." 
He visibly eases up at your words. He reluctantly lets go of your shoulder with a shaky exhale. You kinda feel bad for making him so worried. Eventually, you watch as he calms down from the panic earlier and suddenly he's back to his stoic self, unable to resist his interest in your water tasting experience.
"So this so-called sparkling water... what does it feel like? May you explain? I'm afraid I cannot quite imagine it." Neuvillette looks to be deep in thought and you laugh softly. He really was into water tasting. 
"Oh? Paimon thinks Mondstadt has something similar."
The Traveler pauses from taking a sip of their new drink - Boreal Watch, you remember it's called - before opening their inventory. They scroll through a list of ingredients before taking out a single bottle. The bubbling liquid is a familiar sight. "They call it Fizzy Water. I used it to make drinks at Angel's Share once. Feel free to drink this, Monsieur Neuvillette. Master Diluc gave it as a freebie."
Neuvillette takes the bottle with a nod of thanks. He examines the packaging for a moment, pops the bottle open and takes a swig. There's a pregnant pause before he turns his back to you, takes his goblet and spits out the drink into it out of your line of sight. The three of you don't have to look at each other to know the expression the others have; Paimon sounds like she's close to tears from holding in her laughter. 
When Neuvillette turns to you again, you give him a small smile, ready to comfort him, before he drops to his knee in front of you. You try to pull him up by his arms but he just holds on to your hands.
"Your Grace, please allow me to apologize for making you go through that."
"H-hey, I didn't mind you literally spitting it out, come on now, I basically did the same thing if not worse-"
"No. Not that, Your Grace. I also apologize for that, yes, but I refused to swallow that drink down no matter the cost." He's staring at you dead in the eyes and he looked so serious it was unnerving. "I'm apologizing for letting you drink the water from Inazuma. Had I known that is what you would experience, I would have skipped offering it to you as a refreshment." 
"Please stand up. Don't worry about it. It's not that big of a deal," you pull on his arms again and he doesn't resist, standing back up. "I told you it's a normal drink from where I'm from, right? I was just shocked because I wasn't expecting it."
"Do you mean..." Neuvillette visibly cringes, much to your amusement. "People from your old land... like? To drink it? How... eccentric."
"So do those from Mondstadt, Monsieur Neuvillette," you turn to the Traveler in disbelief that they'd say that right now, but all they give you back is a devious grin peeking from atop their cup as they take another sip. "Dawning Dew was a bestseller."
Paimon clears her throat as she collects herself. "It's kind of funny that Neuvillette can't feel the fizziness when he's drinking? He said that he can feel what he drinks, not taste it. Paimon wonders what's up with that."
"What's Konda Village water like for you, again?" you hum.
"If I had to put a word to it," Neuvillette thought about it for a second. "Placid."
"Placid? That's one way to describe something." Paimon shrugs. 
"Yes, that was how I would have described it," Neuvillette shoots a glare at the bottle of Fizzy Water and another concerned look at you. "After current events, I can't quite say the same."
Paimon was right, though. Placid was definitely a different way of describing things. Placid meant... calm? Or tranquil? You definitely didn't think that's how you'd describe Inazuma. Wait, Inazuma? And that feeling of sparkling water...
"Is it possible... You think it's 'placid'... because your mouth has gone numb?" you gape at Neuvillette.
He stares back at you blankly. The silence in the room is deafening. 
“Maybe… don’t drink that for a while. Not until you’re ready again,” you offer.
“Agreed.” Neuvillette nods stiffly. 
“Alright!” you clap your hands and turn back to the food trolley. “What’s next?” 
To your surprise, Neuvillette’s hand wraps around your wrist as you manage to grasp the next pitcher's handle. He looks just as surprised as you do that he’s holding on to you. 
“Neuvi…llette?” you blink at him.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” he lets go like he was burned, but he doesn’t exactly move away. “But we can stop here if you so wish.” 
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean to say is,” Neuvillette coughs into his fist, thinking hard about his next words. “Although I wish to learn more about the different tastes Your Grace can experience, I must admit I am unable to guide you nor accompany you in your journey, per say. Should there be something wrong with the following water samples, I can only watch and listen like the others, but not help until much later.”
You nod slowly. 
“It means he’s concerned, dummy,” a voice calls out from behind you and you roll your eyes.
“Yeah, I kind of got that, thanks for the heads up,” you groan.
“If I am honest,” Neuvillette’s voice is soft, you’d even be confident to say it’s like he only wants you to hear. “I feel like a scientist watching my latest test subject. Fascinated, and yet should a problem arise, useless.”
“Hey, don’t say that,” you frown at him, but the expression easily slides off your face when he faces you (damn those sad otter eyes). Eventually, you offer him a soft smile. “If I really considered this as life threatening as you think, I would have stopped after the first pitcher. But I’m genuinely having fun, alright? So don’t worry too much about it.”
He doesn’t look quite convinced. You have been telling him to calm down a lot this entire time. When he opens his mouth to dissuade you, you beat him to it.
“I should thank you, you know.”
“Excuse me?” Neuvillette gapes at you. “I almost rushed you to a healer just a moment ago, Your Grace. I have done nothing to earn your gratitude.”
“That’s the thing, though, thank you for taking care of me this entire time, Neuvillette. You’ve been looking out for me every time we’re together, so thank you,” without thinking it over, you close the distance between you two and hug him. When you pull away, he’s intent on not looking you in the eye. “Thank you also for introducing me to water tasting. Never thought the day would come but here we are. It really is quite fun.”
“I see…” Neuvillette says, before abruptly turning around, giving you a clear view of his reddened ears. “Pardon me for a moment, Your Grace. I just… need to recollect for a moment.” 
Before you can say anything else, he leaves your side and goes to get your goblet he threw earlier in a panic. He kneels down and picks it up, but instead of heading back towards you, he just sort of holds it, turning it around in his hand mindlessly. You watch, jaw slightly open, until you feel a presence behind you. 
“I think you broke him.” 
You turn to the Traveler with concern. “Yeah I think so, too, should I be worried?” 
You both turn to Neuvillette, seeing he’s still busy with his goblet, before looking back to each other.
“I bet 500 mora he’ll go back to normal if you make yourself another drink.” 
“It’s not really a bet if we agree on the same thing, though?” 
You clear your throat, hoping to catch Neuvillette’s attention as you turn to Paimon. “Paimon, mind if I borrow your cup for now? We can share if you need it.”
“No, that’s okay. Paimon’s had enough of water. Paimon will share with the Traveler!” Almost on cue, the Traveler offers their drink to Paimon. 
The moment you lift the next pitcher, Neuvillette is by your side in an instant, your goblet and his safely set aside for washing later. “May I do the honors, Your Grace?” 
You offer your goblet as he holds up the pitcher. He pauses.
“Promise me we’ll stop if things get… awry.”
You smile. “You said it yourself, right? This is water prepared by the Iudex himself and made by the Creator themselves. I don’t doubt for a second that it’s not safe.” 
Neuvillette shares your smile softly before pouring the water into your goblet. Third time’s the charm, right? You take a sip and… raise an eyebrow.
“It’s salty. Huh.” you take another sip. “Sort of metallic, too. That’s pretty close to the same thing but, yeah, I’d say it’s rather salty.”
“Salty? That’s quite strange.” Neuvillette double checks that he’s holding the right pitcher. “This water is from Liyue, particularly from Qingce Village. I know of the water from Liyue to have an enduring aftertaste, but I must say I was not expecting it to be salty.”
“Me, too; for Liyue I was kind of expecting it to have an earthy kind of taste. Whatever that tastes like, I don’t know, but I was ready for anything besides this,” you take another sip. “Can’t say it’s all that bad, though. I feel like I’m at a beach.”
“Only if you’re actively drinking the sea water.” 
You don’t even bother looking behind you. “I said it ‘felt’ like. I didn’t say ‘taste’ like. Get your facts straight.”
Looking up at Neuvillette, you realize he’s only watching your reactions. He smiles softly when he finds your attention on him. Not wanting to be the only one “enjoying” the drink, you offer your goblet to him. He looks at you, slightly alarmed, but when you make no move to take the goblet back, he reluctantly takes it. He turns away from you as he drinks. 
You hear the Traveler clear their throat behind you. When you go to look, their eyebrows are raised at you. They look to Neuvillette and then to you before scoffing. Oh… was it that intimate an action?
“A-anyway,” you clear your throat as Neuvillette hands the goblet back to you. There’s a small pleased smile on his face. “What do you think of when you drink water from Liyue?” 
“For me,” Neuvillette closes his eyes for a few seconds, careful of what to say next. “I always thought it had a poignant touch to it.”
“Poignant?” What did you think of when you thought of poignant? Swirling the water around your cup, you recall a story quest. Liyue, salt, and water are key factors in its plot. A sad smile overtakes your features. “Ah. Yes, I guess poignant would be a good word for that. Salty is the right word, too.”
Neuvillette tilts his head to the side at your sudden change in demeanor. “Your Grace?”
“It’s nothing. Just thought I’d visit an old friend sometime.” you tilt your head back as you down the rest of the cup. “Anyways, I think I need something else to wash that off.” 
“Ah, yes. I suppose that does come with consuming salty foods.” Neuvillette nods. “Would you like a different drink? Something aside from water, I mean.”
“Actually, water is good for washing off salt, so I thought I’d ask for more water.”
He holds up the last silver pitcher. “We have Mondstadt left, if you would like to give it a try right now.”
“How would you describe it?” you ask, but you’re already holding out your goblet.
“This particular batch is from Cider Lake.” Neuvillette fills your goblet a little more than usual, most likely to fully cleanse the salt from your palate. “Besides having a crisp and clear feel, I also find that it warms the heart.”
“Oh, wow, guess Venti’s got it nice going for him,” you lift the goblet to your lips and drink.
“I’d be bold enough to say it’s the only thing nice going for him.”
You almost spit out your drink for the second time this day. You turn to look at the Traveler, but they’re busy having a debate with Paimon. That means that the person who said that was-
Neuvillette takes the goblet from your hands and drinks. When you look at him, jaw hanging open still from disbelief, you watch as the corners of his mouth tick up.
“Are you allowed to say that?” you whisper. The Traveler and Paimon don’t seem to have heard, but you sure as hell did.
“I just did, did I not?” He offers a small smile that borders on innocent if it wasn’t so conspiratorial. “I have faith that the Creator will not spread rumors about me, I hope.”
You don’t know if you’d still call it a rumor when he so blatantly did it in front of you, but you end up laughing. You put both hands up as a show of surrender. No way in hell were you telling on the dragon sovereign of Fontaine.
“So, as for our final drink,” Neuvillette offers the goblet back. “What do you make of water from Mondstadt?”
You make a show of finishing the cup all in one go. “Out of all the ones we tasted, I think this has got to be my favorite so far.” 
“Oh? Is it that good?” Neuvillette watches you keenly, awaiting for more details. 
“Yep. It tastes like water.”
Neuvillette chuckles softly, but when you simply offer him a smile, his smile drops. “You… are not joking?”
“Nah. It’s exactly as you say - it’s crisp and clean. It’s how water tasted like back from my world,” you hum in delight. “It doesn’t remind me of anything else but the pure taste of water. Can’t put my finger on whether it’s distilled, mineral, or tap water, all I know is that it’s water for me.” 
“Hmm. Although I want to say it’s rather an anticlimactic ending, I can’t say so. I leave today with the knowledge that there is still a water sample we can similarly taste.” Neuvillette smiles to himself once more. “But that’s enough of that. I believe I’ve put you through enough for today, Your Grace. Thank you for entertaining me and my hobbies.”
“I had fun! Make sure to call me next time you get a new sample, I’d love to have a taste.” You beam at him.
Neuvillette stares at you for a moment - was he waiting for you to tell him it was just a joke? Sure seemed like it - before his smile was back, relieved. You can almost see his little otter tail waving around. “Of course. I already look forward to it.” 
“Are you done now?” 
You take a step back as Paimon suddenly steps into the middle. Her little frown does little to make you feel bad. If anything, it has the opposite effect and you laugh. Her frown deepens at you as you rub her little head. 
“Yeah, yeah, we’re done. We can get a meal now.”
“Woohoo! We're getting meals, plural. Where are we going to eat? Paimon wants some Fontainian Foie Gras!” you follow the fairy as she heads out the door, excited for the prospect of food. And then you pause as you remember.
“Ah, wait. Before we leave. Just one more thing.”
You head back to the food trolley and grab Paimon’s goblet. You make a beeline for a corner in Neuvillette’s office. You noticed earlier there was a small drinking fountain. Gathering enough water into your cup, you take a sip. You turn to Neuvillette.
“Oh my gosh, it’s sweet.”
==✿==|✧••❀••✧|==✿== 
❀BONUS❀
The Traveler and Paimon share an exasperated sigh for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past week. Ever since the water tasting incident, the Creator and Neuvillette have taken to going around Teyvat, trying out different waters straight from the spring of each nation. 
"Why do we have to visit each nation? Paimon thought you could just have them delivered straight to your office!" Paimon leans on the Traveler's head, tired from floating around so much. 
"Appreciating the nation from which the drink came from is part of the experience, Paimon." Neuvillette swirls the water in his goblet, offering it to the floating fairy, who only takes a look at it before cringing away.
The Traveler and Paimon share another look. They know he just likes the opportunity to bond with the Creator over their appreciation of water.
"Are we going back home after this?" Paimon groans.
"I can make you some Sticky Honey Roast if you guide us to Snezhnaya?" You take another sip from your goblet, one made from pure magical ore.
("Your Grace deserves only the finest things, even if it's only dinnerware and the likes," said Neuvillette. "I may also add that a traveling merchant said that drinking from a crystal goblet highlights the taste of the refreshment, as it is free from the taste of metal usually found in a standard cup." You don't mention that you notice he has a matching goblet, right next to a pile of books on his desk. Embedded on it is a familiar seashell.)
In an instant, Paimon is by your side, eyes glittering with determination. "If you cook three Sticky Honey Roasts for Paimon, Paimon can take you to Kh'aenriah."
You lower your goblet and hold out a hand. "Two. And I'll throw in a Squirrel Fish if you find a lake where we can drink from."
"Deal." Paimon takes your hand and you shake on it.
The Traveller flops to the ground and sighs.
They knew they were going to be the one to look for that lake.
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✨ Masterlist ✨
Taglist: 💛@wonpielle 💜@shikanosn
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.
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sylasthegrim · 3 months
Text
The Essential Mercy of Pain
Aegon x Targaryen!reader (daughter of Rhaenyra)
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Wordcount: 2,755
Tags: dark characters, canon typical violence, smut, third-person narrative
Aegon chases his wife to Dragonstone only to be confronted with Rhaenyra and her refusal of his terms of peace, forcing him to get rid of her. Now his wife must navigate her grief for her mother and her residual love for her Aegon.
This is a sequel to Since Nothing is Forever Yours.
Aegon Masterlist
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The problem of pain is that I cannot feel [his] and he cannot feel mine. This, I suppose, is also the essential mercy of pain.
—Eula Biss.
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The gray sands of Dragonstone stuck to her feet, the hem of her dress dragging behind her as she walked along the shore, the freezing water lapping at her ankles.
Behind her, with just enough distance to afford her a modicum of privacy, Ser Criston Cole was watching over her. She could hear the sudden metallic sound of his armor over the wind every time she walked a step forward into the sea, deep enough that the waves came crashing on her knees.
He was here to keep her safe, to keep her sane.
She fantasized about stepping into the ocean and letting the waves carry her away, but life was swelling in her belly, making her blood pulse and her womb quicken, and it always brought her mind back to the shore of life.
"We should head back into the castle, my queen," Cole offered, and she bristled at the sound of his soft voice.
"Be silent," she replied, and in her mind's eye she could picture his shoulders falling and his brow knitting in frustration.
She knew the reality of Cole's feelings toward her—she was the eldest child to the woman he hated most, and a walking testament of her sins. She might have been her mother's loving daughter, but she knew the truth of her birth.
Ser Laenor had been a wonderful father, but she had found familiarity in the warm way Ser Harwin had looked at her, and in the gentle way his thumb sometimes traced the curve of her cheek.
She carried him with her in the dark curls that flowed from her head and the insolence that ran in her veins. She was her father's daughter and as such, she would not submit so easily.
Despite Aegon's efforts, she would not bend nor break.
Seated on a low wall, his feet dangling above one of the stone stairs leading to the seashore, Aegon was observing his young wife as she roamed the coast.
Dressed in black, she was mourning the recent loss of her mother at the heat and breath of Sunfyre, but Aegon could not find it in himself to regret his actions. It had been necessary, a means to an end, an act of war and self-preservation.
He had come to Dragonstone to plead with his wife, and to offer terms of surrender to his sister. Sibling to sibling, monarch to monarch, dragon to dragon.
However, no matter the diplomacy and generous settlement, he had found nothing but resistance and hatred—the dragon had won, fire burning the sealed papers containing the terms of Rhaenyra's surrender and inclusion in the new family order Aegon was eager to build.
Sins would be forgiven, past quarrels would be forgotten. Blood and kin would be united.
Yet his sister had laughed in his face, a mirthless sound that had made Aegon's bones tremble with humiliation and anger. Despite the crown on his head and the army at his back, even his own sister would not consider him more than a silly boy playing at a game he did not understand.
For a moment he had thought she would strike him down, but she had been stopped by the desperate cry of her daughter, and both Targaryens had turned to her as she revealed her secret.
Horror had struck Rhaenyra's graceful features while Aegon's eyes had burned with overwhelming joy. "I am carrying your child," the young woman had said with tears in her eyes and love in her heart, despite the circumstances.
For a moment Aegon had hoped the spark of life inside her would be enough to put a stop to this madness, to this war that seemed to enrage the Gods and tip the careful balance of the realm into chaos.
However the next battle had proved him wrong, and no budding life was enough to stop the fire of dragons.
Aegon was pulled out of his regretful musings as he saw Cole signal to him from the corner of his eye, and soon his wife appeared rounding the corner of the staircase, glancing up to where her husband was perched.
She looked like a crow, emaciated and veiled in black, and the only proof that she was still alive was the swollen belly that filled Aegon with such tenderness. It kept her tethered to this life, and he vowed to himself that he would keep her round with child for all the days of her life, if only it kept her at his side.
"Don't you have more important things to do than hover over me in this way?" she asked as she passed him, icy-cold and resentful.
"Nothing is more important than the future of the realm," Aegon answered, maintaining his composure as best as he could.
"Might I suggest that you govern this realm, before you worry about its future," she replied, turning sharply to look at her husband through her thin veil. He could see the shadows under her eyes and the redness of her cheeks even through the fabric.
"I would happily govern it, if my queen only consented to support me in my duties," he said solemnly, and they both knew there was a painful truth to it.
Aegon was not made to rule alone, and would only thrive as king under the gentle guidance of his wife, with the support and help of his good queen.
"The queen is otherwise occupied," she said, venom in her mouth.
Aegon took a step forward toward her, the wind ruffling the lapels of her cloak and revealing the curve that hid below her black velvet dress. "I am sure growing our heir takes all your time and energy," he tried to offer with a small smile, but she pulled away from his reaching hand.
"Grief is what keeps me occupied, husband," she snapped, then softened, running a hand where she had just refused her husband's touch. "If you would excuse me, I will go lie down. The child makes me tired."
Aegon nodded at her reverently, suffering the look of pity from Cole as the man passed him, walking behind his queen and escorting her back to the fortress where she had insisted she would give birth.
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Unwilling to go back to King's Landing so soon, leaving the protection of the capital to one of his brothers, Aegon had agreed that their child and heir would be born on the dragon island, and would take its first breath in the smoke-filled air.
Their son was born at night as the star-filled sky peeked through the smoke that came from the Dragonmont. After two days of labor where his wife seethed every time he approached her, Aegon had resorted to hover from the shadows. He kept watch in the hallway where the midwives waited in turns, unwilling to overwhelm the young queen.
Their son came in the early hours of the new days, with a cry like a piercing whistle that echoed the groan his mother made as she pushed him into the midwife's hands.
Aegon was only grateful for the cries of both mother and child, and joy speared his heart when it was announced in a triumphant voice that she had given birth to a son.
The young queen had wept from where she was kneeling on the red-stained stones, pressing wet kisses to her child's face. "It is you, it is me... It is us," she had vowed in the sacred moment where life begins and the belly is still soft, blood still fresh on the linens.
In time the blood had dried and her belly had shrunken, remaining soft where tiny feet kicked from the outside, their son's tiny body fitting perfectly against hers as she nursed him at her own breast.
The nursery of the Red Keep replaced the smoke-filled room of the Dragonstone fortress, as she was forced to follow her husband back to the capital.
As soon as she had been void of any child in her womb, her safety hadn't been guaranteed anymore—she had to obey against her own wishes as Aegon decided to bring his heir to King's Landing and resume ruling over his kingdom.
Their son was much more than a prince, but an instrument of the Targaryen dynasty. The heir, and the tether that kept king and queen together.
As war came to an end and peace settled over the realm, tentative and wobbly, the same tense covenant fell over Aegon and his wife.
He could never enjoy her company during the day, duties keeping them apart as the queen devoted her every waking moment to the care of their son, and the care of the orphans of the capital. She was loved and pitied, having known loss and horror as much as the families she helped provide for.
Whenever Aegon sought her company and was refused, she never lashed out at him, instead hid behind her righteousness and her duties. "I was expecting you at supper," Aegon remarked amicably as he found his wife in the nursery once again, in the first hour of the darkness.
"I was occupied," she replied, barely looking up from her embroidery.
In the cradle next to her chair, their son was asleep, deep in the land of dreams—if babes only dreamt.
"Surely a nurse can attend him if he wakes," Aegon sighed. "It would be good if the king and queen could be seen together, once in a while."
"Whatever for," she responded, forcing boredom to color her tone, and Aegon sighed again.
"For the sake of the realm. For the sake of the peace," he replied, and she knew his claim was righteous. "For the sake of our son."
Cold tears made their way from her eyes to her cheeks, and soon her embroidery became so blurry she pricked her finger with the needle, a drop of red falling on the cream-colored linen.
She stood abruptly, peeking at the cradle.
"Tell the realm I am occupied," she announced again, and loneliness tugged at Aegon's heart again. He knew what occupied, or rather preoccupied his wife—her losses, her grief, the prison that she had made for herself in her sorrow.
As she made a move to depart from the room, she stepped past her husband, and made the mistake to look upon him. His eyes were sad, and the reality of what the war had forced them to take from the other didn't escape her—loss and blame were heavy on her heart, love desperately trying to claw its way out.
“You can hate me however much you want,” Aegon said softly, quietly like a secret, his smile pained and hopeless. “I made you queen, gave you a son.”
“You will never have my allegiance. Nor my obedience,” she vowed, cold tears wetting her cheeks and pooling at the corners of her mouth.
She was beautiful still, even though it hurt to watch her emotions play on her face. Ruined as she was by grief and hatred, her heart now as cold as her presence, she still remained the woman Aegon loved.
“You will never win,” she whispered, cold as ash, and it would have sounded like a threat under different circumstances.
“You love this child that comes from my flesh, it’s victory enough for me,” Aegon replied, and she had to turn away.
The cradle creaked as Aegon rocked it, and their son stirred and cooed. Draped in linens and velvet, his little fists curled in the covers, he looked at though he was clinging to sleep, unwilling to open his eyes to the painted ceiling. Above him, angels danced and maidens strolled in a garden.
“The crown, the realm, none of it matters,” he continued, almost a lament that made grief and regret swell in her chest. “Only him.”
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It was a sob that woke Aegon up later that night, stifled and broken by a retching sound. A rain drop fell on his cheek and as he opened his eyes to the breeze ruffling the curtains of the canopy bed, realized that the storm that was taking place in his room was of human nature.
Above him, dressed in the shadows of the night, his wife was holding a dagger in her trembling hand. Fright and sorrow were shaking her slender frame as doubt guided her aim. Aegon gripped her wrist easily, tightly, and she covered her mouth with her other hand.
"Would you really have me dead, wife?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep. There was no sadness in him, only some odd sort of resignation. "I would rather die by your own hand than any other way."
With those words, he released her and the dagger hovered over him.
He swallowed his tears as his wife shifted atop him, her soft thighs on either side of his hips. She was light as a feather, and his flesh yearned for her touch.
She sobbed into her hand as she lowered the dagger slowly, curling her hand around the handle and pressing her fist onto his chest. He held her in silence as she cried, cursing him in broken words.
He could feel the flat of the blade press against his ribs—he slept without a shirt, always—and he knew it would only take a twist of her hand for the sharp side to glide against his skin.
He curled his hand over hers and kept it close over his thundering heart until her tears dried and all was left was the empty shell of her grief.
"I hate you," she confessed in the darkness, moonlight playing on her pale face.
"Oh, I know," Aegon replied with a loving smile on his face. "I would take your hatred over your indifference any day," he added and she took the next breath from him.
She pressed her mouth to his in desperation, or in hatred, loathing the very breath of him—she swallowed his moan as it came from his throat, from his chest where their joined hands still held the dagger.
She ripped it away from his grip and for a moment time stood still and the air caught in his throat. His eyes were wide and pleading as they both thought she would plunge the blade into his chest, pleading for her love even if it came in the form of murder.
Instead she threw the dagger to the ground and whimpered as Aegon surged up, wrapped an arm around her waist and dipped her to the mattress.
She stretched her spine as he pulled the covers that kept them apart with a frustrated groan; she must have made a sound when she realized he was not wearing any clothes, because he dipped his head and caught her mouth.
"I hate you," she gasped as he parted her legs roughly, desperation curling at his core, making his cock throb.
He was beautiful in his eagerness, in the trembling way with which he enlaced her nightgown and slid it off her body, tearing a seam or two.
"Tell me again," he sobbed as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her bony hips grinding against him. She grew wet as she rocked into his hold, his cock sliding between her folds.
"I hate you," she whined as he licked a hot strip across one of her breasts, pulling its peak into his mouth and suckling at her greedily.
She leaked despite herself and he groaned against her skin, reaching between them until he could guide his cock into her. She unfurled beneath him, her back arching and her head grinding back into the pillow.
"Aegon, ah—" she wailed as he took her, rough and merciless, and he couldn't care less if it was from pain or pleasure. From love or from hate; he would take anything coming from her.
He took the inebriating way her cunt tightened around him, making his head spin as she bit his lower lip; he took the burning lines she raked into his back with her fingernails, and the way her throat stretched as pleasure took her.
Aegon knew she would be the end of him, as no love could forgive the sins he had committed, no matter how unconditional it was, and hers was rigged with limits and conditions.
They would have to build a covenant based on mutual unforgiveness of the other's wrongdoings, accept the hateful words and the dagger in the night—and in the middle of it, in time, as the years smooth the edges of pain, they might find love again. 
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Dividers by @saradika
Beta ready by @arcielee. My muse for this one, @bucknastysbabe ♡
Aegon taglist: @f4ll-for-you @arcielee @annikin-im-panicin @leptitlu @levis-butterfingers @merovingianprincess @ainandra @flrboyd @fan-goddess @aphroditeisamilf @darylandbethfanforever9 @valleyof-goldenlilies @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @apollonshootafar @helaenaluvr @neenieweenie @heavenly1927 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @apollonshootafar @sunphyre @girlwith-thepearlearring @alanadetigy @travelingmypassion @targaryenmoony @burninggracesandbridges @amiraisgoingthruit @maidmerrymint @ipostwhtifeel @vixemi @xitsemm @fullmoonworshipper
Readers who wanted this sequel ♡ @roselibrary @urbanleftovers @marihoneywk @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna @yazzzmints
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ventique18 · 7 months
Text
Papa 🐉 with triplets HCs
When going overseas for official duties, he prefers not to be cooped up in that weird iron bird creature (it's an airplane, hun). So he instead flies to the country in his dragon form. Imagine people's awe when this gigantic, magnificent creature lands gracefully, lowers his head down carefully, and out of his mouth hops not one, not two, but three little dragons. They're so tiny you could swear they're cute little dogs.
He always goes to meetings clad in heavy robes. More often than not though, his mysterious cloak has a peculiar feature: it produces three sets of giggling voices every once in a while, especially when the room goes deadly silent.
Once an hour passes though, three little tykes get magicked out of the cloak like how a bunny hops out of a magician's hat. The wyrmlings like to climb on and off papa's back and munch on his horns. Everyone could only glance in amazement at how strong their Majesty's neck muscles must be to withstand the weight.
The three siblings still have very small wings but would always attempt to fly. 🌸 always almost has a heart attack when they inevitably come crashing down from their disproportionate weight, but 🐉 would save them the last second with his magic. He'd laugh loudly and hug 🌸 to reassure them none of their babies would get into accidents while he's alive.
I say accident because the three would frequently get hurt on purpose anyway. Their parents don't understand why, but one of their hobbies seem to be beating each other up in any way they could think of. 🐉🌸 would often wake up in the dead of the night because one sibling hurled another off the bed, simply because he/she was hogging 🌸's chest apparently. 🌸's chest is their favorite snuggle spot.
While 🐉 frankly doesn't have all the time in the world, he strictly employs a 8-5 work hour like a regular person. He doesn't really mind working but ever since he's started a family, he believes this is finally his god-given grace so he'll do it properly. His spouse is very capable in assisting him so they never really had problems with this arrangement.
So he likes to be closer to his babies and feeds them personally while it's still normal. He kinda just force-feeds them mashed food with a spoon in a row though. "Can't you make it more fun? Like, open wide, here comes the flying broom!" "I am simply not a sappy person." "You feed me while saying cheesy shit though..." "I cannot very well say those kinds of things to my children."
When he bathes them, he makes them line up and dunks them into a pool one by one. When they're in their dragon form, he scrubs them with a brush like he's doing laundry.
He hangs them on a clothesline to dry them on a sunny day lmao. "What are you doing to our babies??" "What? They enjoy it." Fair enough, the little gremlins are giggling.
When 🐉🌸 gets one those snazzy refrigerators with a water faucet and ice dispenser in front, the siblings like to sit on top of each other's shoulders so they could steal ice cubes for themselves. Or lap at the running water like thirsty dogs.
Grim has dedicated water bowls all over the place because he finds it hard to pour from a pitcher, and the feral siblings actually prefer lapping from those than go to the refreshments table to fetch a drink. The first time 🐉🌸 saw this, they were so shocked they kinda just stared blankly.
"Are... Are they actually dogs..." "I do not know, at this point." "Did you do this too when you were little?" "We did not have any semblance of a pet so I do not think so." Lilia reveals later though, that 🐉 drank from the damn toilet once.
He likes teaching them all manners of things. He gets a bit too intense sometimes though, what with them failing over and over again on what he thinks to be simple tasks, so 🌸 has to remind him gently that they are not him and shouldn't ever be him. He lets up and smiles. Yes, this is what children are supposed to be.
He legitimately doesn't have any ounce of experience with fatherhood and was suddenly thrust with three, so 🌸 honestly thinks he's a bit clumsy when it comes to taking care of them. Really clumsy and callous, actually.
But when 🌸 chances upon their three babies curled up against him, with him napping soundly and still holding an illustrated book on gargoyles and their history (goodness, he never changes), they thought he wasn't so bad after all.
Thinking harder about it though, what with him carrying the weight of the country while carrying the weight of three chubby babies and a feral cat, he might be the best father ever, after all.
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aemonds-sapphire · 1 year
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Moonbloom
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Summary: Your daughter accompanies Aemond through the various stages of your pregnancy.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: Pure fluff. Dad Aemond.
A/N: Can be read as part 2 of Of Flowers & Dragons, but also as a stand-alone. Hope you enjoy it!
Word count: 1.5k
It had been decided the previous day with Aemond that you’d tell her today.
The maesters had advised against it in case something went wrong as it had only been a couple of moons, but after weeks of withholding such information, today felt like the appropriate day.
Besides, you were starting to show.
Thankfully, Aemond was around already spending time with your daughter in the Red Keep’s gardens.
Targaryens took to the skies on their dragons, but she insisted on having her hands in soil and dirt, bringing seeds to life.
You watched from the balcony as your daughter of six knelt on the floor, hands and silver hair covered in dirt as she tended to her pots of colourful flowers.
Aemond stood nearby, looking elegant as ever.
But as you paced down the stone steps towards them, it was made clear both of them were bickering in High Valyrian.
A smile formed on your lips from the exasperated look on his face.
It was to be expected, after all.
Two dragons with fiery tempers were bound to clash.
He suddenly removed the tie that held his hair back and lowered himself to eye-level with the young child, bringing her unruly strands into a high knot.
She huffed in annoyance, pushing his hands away. “Kepa!”
It filled you with nothing but joy to watch his face soften into an adoring smile.
Noticing your presence, she stuck out her tongue at him in a clear display of defiance and ran to you.
Her cheek was soon pressed to your belly, short arms enveloping you into a tight hug, a single cutting of Moonbloom tucked behind her ear.
“Muña!” she beamed, rubbing stains of dirt into your dress. “Look at my garden! Grandmother says it’s the prettiest in King’s Landing.”
You ran your hands along her head, tidying a few strands in place. “Queen Alicent is absolutely correct.”
Aemond joined you, planting a tender kiss to your forehead, his now loose hair tickling your face. “Do we tell her?”
She pouted. “Tell me what?”
He crouched at her side, bearing the faintest smile, but enough to send your stomach into a lurch. “You wanted a sibling—”
But before Aemond could carry on, your daughter broke into a deafening shriek, causing birds in nearby trees to take flight.
Her mouth was left hung open in sheer excitement as Aemond placed her tiny hand on your discreet bump.
Lilac eyes widened and locked with his. “You planted a seed in mother!”
Her high-pitched remark turned a few heads and you could immediately spot panic settling on his handsome face.
“Sīr eglie daor,” he said, lowering his own voice. “Not so loud, little one.”
But your daughter cared not for manners in that moment and brought both hands to your belly, glaring at it in confusion.
“When do I get to meet my sibling?”
“Not for a few moons,” you told her.
She planted a soft kiss atop your bump. “Do I have to water it?”
You chuckled. “It won’t be necessary.”
Aemond placed his own hand next to hers. “All you have to do is aid me in taking care of your mother so she can take care of your sibling.”
Pressing another kiss, she glared at him. “That is all?”
He nodded. “Are you up for this very important, challenging, and difficult task?” he said dramatically while narrowing his eye.
She balled one fist and raised it high, her face twisting into a defiant smile. “Yes!”
Aemond came walking in, footsteps as light as feathers as he paced across the poorly lit bedchamber, carrying his daughter.
You propped yourself on an elbow to better take in the adoring sight of the young prince holding his daughter against his chest, her face resting on his shoulder as her arms dangled with each step.
“Maybe we should have waited,” you whispered as he came to sit at the edge of the bed.
He shook his head. “Dawn is breaking.”
She was still fast asleep, but you had made a promise to her and promises are to be kept.
Aemond made sure of that.
He tried lowering her to lay next to you, but she immediately clamped her arms around his neck, whining softly.
Silently, he loosened her grip and brought her down next to your prominent belly.
She whined once again from the sudden lack of warmth he had provided, but soon shifted to curl into you.
“Wake up…” you said, dragging the back of your hand across her cheek.
Aemond pushed your nightgown up to expose your skin to her touch. “Byka Zaldrīzes…”
Little dragon.
That term of endearment was reserved for special moments, so he had once told you.
This was one of those.
Slowly but surely, you daughter stirred from her sleep, rubbing both hands across her fluttering eyelids.
With a jaw-popping yawn she stretched herself into your belly and, through sleepy eyes, she glared at Aemond in confusion.
“The babe is kicking,” he said.
The effect of those words was immediate and she promptly placed both hands on your belly.
She had made you promise you would let her know when you felt the first kicks, but nothing could have prepared you for how endearing it was to witness your daughter glaring expectantly, dragging her tiny palms across the stretched skin.
The babe kicked harshly inside you and you saw her eyes widen. “I felt it!”
Aemond’s eye was on yours and the glare he offered you made your heart swell with adoration.
If someone had told you that a few years ago Aemond would have traded early morning sword practice for time with his family, you’d ask them not to be absurd.
He placed a large hand on her back, rubbing her gently as she dove into a monologue with her sibling.
“You are very impatient,” she whispered as if she hand suddenly entered a world that was only theirs. “Must be dark in there… but you’ll come out soon and I’ll even let you tend to my flowers.”
Aemond chuckled. “Even your precious moonbloom pots?”
She paused in contemplation.
“… yes,” she ended up saying. “But only after making sure they’d be left intact,” she concluded with a determined smile.
“No harm would come to your flowers, sweetling,” he said, placing his other hand on your hip, his thumb rubbing your skin absentmindedly. “Besides, Uncle Daeron would have more shipped from Oldtown if something were to happen.”
The babe rammed into you once again, startling your daughter. “Was I also like this?”
“Very much so,” he said. “You were bent on not letting your mother rest properly… and, by extension, me.”
Her face lightened up. “I will ask grandmother if you were the same way, kepa.”
A smile curled his lips and lit a fire in you.
Your second labour went by much faster than your first one and, by the time you felt the babe’s pushing down, no guards or handmaids were able to contain your daughter from sneaking inside the busy chamber.
Aemond was at your side every step of the way and made no further effort at keeping the young Targaryen at bay.
Wide-eyed and in complete silence, she strode forward to stand by your side, gripping two flower crowns in her hand.
“Push, my lady,” the maester urged. “Push, push!”
You were fortunate to have your husband sitting behind you, holding you in place and silently being the source of strength you required to push through the final moments.
Through gritted teeth, you mustered the last remnants of vigour within you and tried your best to heed the maester’s words.
Sweat rolled down your face and with a final scream, you felt the pain down below ease and the pressure vanish.
“A boy!” the old man said as he wrapped the babe with cloths
You slumped into Aemond’s chest, breathing heavily as tears rushed from your eyes.
An angry cry tore through the room as the young dragon announced himself to the world around him.
“Do you wish for me to take her outside for a while, my prince?” one servant asked, gazing at your daughter.
“Leave her be,” you heard Aemond snarl as she looped one arm around yours, holding on tightly.
She bared her teeth dramatically, frowning deeply at the failed attempt to have her taken away from your side.
As soon as they managed to cut the cord, another handmaid brought the babe to your arms, turf of silver hair sticking to his tiny head.
Relief washed over you as you embraced your son near your flustered chest.
Thorough your hazy state of mind, you didn’t even notice your daughter was holding out one moonbloom flower crown to you.
She seemed hesitant… even tense.
“Thank you, my love…” you breathed out, allowing her to place it on your head. “Thank you…”
“Can I…”
Your eyes shot to her lilac ones as she pouted, holding yet another flower crown, but a much smaller one this time.
“Made it with kepa…”
Aemond planted a long kiss to the top of your head before taking the crying babe into his arms and lowering him just enough for her to peak through with a gasp.
“Ooooh…”
Surprisingly, the babe’s cries came to a sudden halt when she placed the crown on top of the cloth wrapped around him.
One handmaiden placed a damp rag to your forehead and you sighed as your daughter carefully ran teo fingers along his face.
“Do you think he’ll like me?”
Aemond pulled her close to him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “He already does.”
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house-strong · 1 year
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— THE WAKE of the dragon ʾ ⋆
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summary ; a request by anon.
“Would you please write a Daemon x niece!reader where Alicent attempted to attack her half-daughter like Episode 8 but the reader is pregnant with Daemon's third child?? I NEED protective, murderous Daemon in my life.”
pairing ; daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader
notes ; daemon is the man that i need in my life 😭 i cannot get over his short hair look. also, myrax is the name of your dragon. there’s no description for her, so feel free to make up your own! also unrevised,, oops.
funerals were a finicky thing.
when laena velaryon passed from childbirth, or rather the flame of her dragon-mount vhagar, the royal court had assembled on the velaryon’s ancestral seat of driftmark to pay tribute to the beautiful sister of laenor velaryon.
a towering castle surrounded by black water bay, driftmark was surely rivaling the volcanic mountain of dragonstone in terms of beauty. dragons soared across the sky, a plethora of beige, red, silver, and green wings dappled the sky. with a monstrous cry, vhagar was lurking within the mountains somewhere.
the procession was something that bordered mystic. tossing laena’s body that was enclosed in a stone casket carved out of her liking into the sea, never to be seen again. you supposed it was poetic, the velaryons were of the sea after all.
your two children, daenys and baelon, were doing their best to console their cousins, rhaena and baela. you smile fondly at them, the girls holding hands and baelon trying to make them laugh in attempts to raise their spirits. a sharp kick to your belly sends you leaning forward. your arm shoots out to find something to grasp on to and sure enough, you find the arm of your husband, daemon.
“he’s a fighter, isn’t he?” his voice asks, the tone low and cool enough to send a shiver down your spine. you wince and try to muster a smile despite the pain, but you shake your head.
“she is a fighter. i was thinking about the name visenya.”
“he will be named daerion,” the rogue prince counters, a sly smirk rising the corner of his lip. his eyes you curiously, eyes flickering back and forth between your eyes, your nose, and soon, he stops at your lips. he licks his own, before turning away and gazing at your children. you sigh in soft adoration, the action he did was enough to send the babe in your belly and stomach into flips.
it was no secret that daemon wanted another son; after the birth of prince baelon, named after his late nephew and in a sheer decision to repair old amends with his king brother, he was enamored with his child. he was the epitome of what daemon had inspired to be; a faithful and loving brother to his sibling, and a bundle of joy that was the near opposite of what daemon was. to create something so good and so pure was evidence enough that maybe daemon could be salvaged.
he knew that this, this family – his family, was the one thing in the world that he vowed to uphold and protect, no matter the cost. he’d cross oceans, move mountains, and bring the kingdoms to heel with the help of his dragon-mount caraxes if that was what you needed.
“they’re sweet, aren’t they?” you say, following his gaze. he hums in agreement.
the funeral then moves to the inner halls of driftmark, where corlys velaryon and your aunt, rhaenys targaryen, had set a feast in remembrance of their late daughter. the food was delicious, an array of players of roasted pig, cakes, and fish been laid out. no doubt they were delicacies that were once enjoyed by laena velaryon. your seat was at the long table alongside the princess rhaenyra’s family, your fathers family, and your own.
the day had swiftly come to an end and everyone was confined to their chambers, or rather, they were supposed to be. it was no secret that aemond targaryen had disliked the obviousness of being without a dragon-mount. he, however, had the glorious idea of claiming vhagar as his mount. now riderless and unclaimed by someone of valyrian descent, the enormous beast had accepted aemond as hers.
this did nothing but enrage the velaryon twins. push had come to shove, and soon punches were being thrown. it was only through the intervention of the targaryen household guards and kingsguards, were the children separated. your children, unfortunately were caught in the crossfire trying to defend both aemond and rhaena. your poor children had no idea of the growing divide that grew between the children of alicent hightower and rhaenyra targaryen.
a knock had come to your chamber doors, one that interrupted the slow, passionate kisses that were exchanged between the near naked body’s of you and daemon. he pulls away from you and glares daggers toward the door.
“i thought we asked to not be disturbed?” he asks, his voice mixed with the edge of anger and annoyance.
“i’m sorry, my prince and princess, but it’s of grave urgency,” the steward responds behind the closed door, “i’m afraid it involves your children.”
the pair of you were quick to redress and make yourselves presentable. with the swing of the door and a bow of respect, you both followed the steward without another word.
that is when you met the other members of your family in the halls of hightide and you arrive before moments before rhaenyra. your children are quick to be by daemon and your side; daenys hugs you and baelon seeks refuge by daemon. a growing, red and purple welt had begun to swell on the full cheekbone of baelon. the fury that begins to grow in daemon is obvious.
you bend at the hip to the farthest your growing stomach will allow, your hands gently cupping daenys’ tear stained cheeks. her cheeks are flushed with pink and hair frays thick with sweat gather at her hairline. you feel your heart break as you feel her small body shudder.
“what happened? tell me the truth.” daemon asks gently as he kneels down to baelon’s level. the growing boy turns his head to glare at where the other children were gathered.
“aemond claimed vhagar as his mount, but baela said vhagar was hers to claim.” gods, the kids and their never ending desire to be a dragonrider. you were thankful your kids had mounts already, as your dragon myrax had laid a clutch of eggs that both hatched. “then jace and luke got involved.. then i tried to help defend aemond. it wasn’t right that they all attacked him.”
atlas, your son wasn’t a bully. a sigh leaves you and you hug your daughter tight.
then, the question comes to what would happen as a result of aemond’s eye. you release the hold from your daughter and approach the rapidly forming circle. you stand by your elder sister rhaenyra, your hand holding hers in support.
everything happens too fast. rhaenyra demands that aemond be questioned about where he learned to call her children bastards, alicent demands and eye for an eye, and soon, a knife is drawn by the queen and she makes a beeline for the crowned heir.
your eyes open wide in surprise, but you move forward quickly despite the pregnancy you bear, “no!”
again, a push comes to shove, and alicent shoves you to the side. you cry out as your body collides with the floor. somewhere along the fall, you hit your head. your children shout your name and rush to your aid, followed by their father. he kneels beside you, moving your hair from your face, eyes assessing the damage.
it’s then he notices the crimson liquid that slowly gathers then falls from your temple. your hand tenderly touches the spot and you grimace with pain.
he rises and moves to pull the queen away from rhaenyra, his eyes cold and his face hardened. the members of the kingsguard are confused as to who to protect; the king whose in the presence of a weapon, the queen who was just shoved by the rogue prince, or the named heir to the iron throne who was bleeding from her forearm. three important figures of the crown were in the crossfire.
criston cole, ever so faithful to his lady, ran to alicent’s side and stuck himself between daemon and his queen. daemon takes this as an invitation to draw his sword and the kingsguard, as well as the targaryen household soldiers, follow suit. your husband raises dark-sister and points it accusingly at alicent and her band of loyalists.
daemon wants a reason to have dark-sister meet criston coke – any reason, small or large, would’ve rid the targaryens of this rat.
“disarm him!”
the command is met with no response. no one knows who to defend, but your heart warms at daemon’s ability to single-handedly not care and care so much at the same time.
“you will not come into this hall and dishonor the very memory of laena velaryon,” he starts, voice low and thick with disdain. his lips curl back into a snarl, “and you will not bring my wife and my children into this feud.”
once his message seeps into the air; he pulls away and sheathes his sword, eyes locked onto the shocked expression that queen alicent wore, “you should remember your place, alicent. royal blood runs through our veins, you should do well to remember that you don’t have the same luxury.”
the comment causes a scoff to draw from alicent’s mouth.
daemon returns to your side and helps you to your feet. a maester comes, along with a rag and some needle in case the wound is needed stitches. he leads you away, arm wrapped around your back and the other supporting your weight as you hobble your way next to him.
“as soon as you are seen to, we and the children are leaving.”
and with a few stitches to close the wound, your face was rid of the blood that came. daemon, daenys, baelon, and yourself, packed your things and sent them home along with your household guards. the four of you, took your dragon-mounts to the sky and flew to dragonstone, where you shared the massive castle with your sister and her family.
despite warning alicent to not involve his family, you taking rhaenyra’s side and baelon’s actions in the squabble between the children had already chosen your fate and tied you to the blacks.
sooner or late, the war between the blacks and the greens would divide the targaryen family.
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kmt123whatsthetea · 8 months
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Babies on the Brain
George Weasley x reader
Requested by @hahahafucku
Request gist: smut where George sees you holding Fred baby and he feels the need to give you one of his own.
A/N: thanks for the request. I carried on Fred and Angelina’s romance (Freds not dying in my world and George is ending up with the reader instead). I've never been good at writing for breeding kinks (I say like I'm good at writing other things) so I'm sorry if it sounds cliche or cringy or if it's just downright terrible. I don't know if I went a bit overboard on the before smut stuff.
T/W: unprotected sex, soft dom George, breeding kink, praise, kitchen counter sex, ginger baby (jk)
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You and George had met in your first year of Hogwarts but your slow build up to a couple started after your fourth year. You had known him for years. His parents loved you, his siblings loved you, and he adored you. You loved his family, from his caring mum, to his mischievous twin, and finally his young sister (who was thrilled to have another girl in the family).
Speaking of George's mischievous twin, you couldn't believe the news when you heard that he was going to be a father. This was a boy who (with his twin) had set a firework dragon on a ministry of magic worker, had stolen a flying car, and had tested joke shop products on first year students back in Hogwarts. He was going to be a brilliant dad.
Those months went by with you and George helping Fred and Angelina with anything they needed, from trips to St Mungos to shopping for baby accessories. Throughout this time, George began to keep a closer eye on you. He’d zone out when you recommended baby grows to get his future niece or nephew or when you’d buy baby products so that the expecting parents were prepared.
A week after Angelina gave birth, she and Fred brought the little one round to meet the family. A little boy who already shared the Weasleys trademark fiery hair. Angelina passed him to you, letting you hold the baby whilst she went for a well deserved rest (Molly had persisted that she looked tired and could take a nap in Fred’s old room). You bounced the little baby in your arms, unaware of your boyfriend watching you from the doorway.
He didn't want to admit it, but seeing you with a baby in your arms made him weak in the knees. He wanted it to always be like this. He wanted the baby in your arms to be his. He'd always thought about having kids with you someday, but this was a wake up call. And the call was answered by that voice inside of him, telling him to make you his and only his.
————————————————————————
Once you got home to the small house that you and George shared, you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. All you had been talking about all afternoon was how adorable Fred’s baby was with his tiny button nose and little toes. George stalked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his face immediately going to the crook of your neck to press soft kisses to the skin.
“You’d make such a perfect mum to our kids”.
His words made you freeze. At first, you didn't think you’d heard him correctly, since his face was still tucked into your neck. But he made sure that you would listen.
“I bet you’d look so beautiful carrying our baby. So full and swollen…so full because of me”.
At this point, he was slowly rocking his hips against your ass. His cock slowly got harder while he left kisses along your collarbone. Small breathy moans slipped past your lips, his words and grinding getting you wetter by the second. You pushed your hips back against his, wanting nothing more than for George to take the hint and fuck you into the countertop. His hand splayed across your stomach through your clothes, muttering a soft “Want me in here, sweetheart?”. Your small whimper and frantic nodding had him smiling to himself. He wanted you to admit that you wanted this, he needed you to admit that you wanted him to do this.
“Need you to tell me what you want, love. Tell me how much you want to be full of my cum”. His breath on the shell of your ear caused you to shiver and turn your head as much as you could to look him in the eye. “Please George, fuck me. Fill me up. I want to be full”. Once he made you beg, he pulled your dress up and pulled your underwear to the side, knowing that it would take too long to pull them off. George pushed his trousers and boxers down, before pushing into you with one thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. His pace was quick and desperate from the moment he was inside of you. His cock felt amazing. You had both had sex without protection before but it felt somehow better when you didn't have to worry or take precautions. Your moans were sultry and erotic, and George swore that he had never heard a prettier sound (apart from the sound of his hips slapping against the plush of your ass).
His hand trailed its way down to tease and play with your clit, wanting to make you cum first. He had always insisted on cumming after you. His mouth was next to your ear in a second, his voice dripping with lust. “That's it sweetheart, milk my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want me to cum deep inside you. Cum for me and I’ll stuff you so full of my cum that you’ll be carrying twins”. His thrusts got sloppier but his small circles on your clit got more determined. All it took was one final thrust to have you cumming around his cock, your walls clenching tighter than before. George's hold on you got tighter as his cum flooded your insides, not a drop going to waste.
After you had both caught your breaths and calmed down, he pulled his cock out. Pulling your underwear to its correct spot before whispering in your ear “Keep it all in there love, I’ll check tonight and if even a drop is gone, I’ll just have to fill you up again”
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idksmtms · 2 months
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For Anyone But Us (Criston Cole x Alicent's Daughter!reader)
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A/N: Sorry Daeron, you didn’t exist here either 
Summary: You had grown up with Ser Criston as your protector, and almost a father figure. You didn’t know when exactly you began to crave him in carnal ways, in ways that had you blushing redder than a summer strawberry and running to hide away. But now you can handle it no longer. You must have him. 
Word count: 3,867
Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap, oral f & m receiving, handjob, smut smut smut, self-hating, slightly manipulative reader (??), daddy issues, sexualising a father figure, era-typical negative view of sex, (please let me know if I missed any) 
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 
Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)
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You sat in your mother’s quarters, embroidery on your lap and a gentle melody humming from your lips. She was answering letters at her writing table while you reclined on her couch, enjoying the sudden breeze that had settled upon king’s landing and blew through her open windows. Occasionally you looked up to Ser Criston, standing stoic as ever by the door, and offered him a joyful little smile, one which he returned in his own muted way. 
Since you were born, you have been your mother’s constant companion. From her breast to her lap to her side, you have spent almost your entire life beside her. You are her youngest child, the apple of her eye by far, and the one that looks most like her. When you cried, she was the only one to comfort you, when you showed an interest in music, she had the best musicians come to foster your talent, when you said you wanted to learn history, she had as many books as would fit in your chambers brought from the library. You may be half Targaryen, but you will always be Alicent’s daughter. 
Due to being your mother’s constant companion, you soon became one for Ser Criston as well. Alicent trusted no guard more than Ser Criston and so he often had the task of being your carer. He has soothed your tears and washed your cuts when you’ve played too hard. He has tickled you until your laughs became shrieks and been the first to compliment every single one of your new dresses. You have grown up watching Ser Criston be your mother’s protector, be your protector. When you think of safety, you think of his face. So it makes sense that when you look upon his face as he watches out the window, a stoic set to his lips and brow, that your chest heats up and an errant throb pangs between your legs? 
You don’t really remember when you started feeling this way for him. You vividly remember one night, a feast for some celebration or other, and your mother had gifted you a new dress made of silk dyed in thin red water to make the prettiest baby pink. The maids had done your hair with intricate braids and curls that fell down your back but left your neck and chest exposed. You had rushed out of your room and found Ser Criston first, hopping in front of him to show off the dress. You had spun around in excitement, swishing the skirt of your dress back and forth and asking him what he thought. He had said you were the most beautiful girl in the world with a smile on his face and those dark eyes of his that never truly softened and kept a certain harsh quality to them. Your whole chest had turned red and your stomach had twisted in the most pleasurable way and you had wanted him to watch you for the rest of eternity. Even during the feast you had kept standing by him despite your siblings scolding you to mingle, pouting like a child if he turned his attention away from you for even a minute. 
Another memory, only a few years past, when Aegon had said something to upset you and you had come sobbing to your mother. After soothing your tears she had left you in her quarters under the watchful eye of Ser Criston to go and scold Aegon. You had sidled up to him, asking if whatever taunt Aegon had made was true. He had been quick to shush you, telling you that Aegon was a young man and he could still be stupid, that you needn’t take everything he said to heart. You had pressed yourself to his chest then, wrapping your arms around the armour on his midriff. He had gently rubbed your back for a few moments before clearing his throat and pulling away, guiding you back to the couch and bringing you whatever embroidery project you had left on the side table. But the feeling of his large hand on your back, his palm and fingers spanning so wide, his smell and even the look of his skin from so close had stuck inside your mind and body and you had tossed and turned that entire night to thoughts of him. 
You startled out of your thoughts of the man when your mother abruptly stood from her chair, tutting as she mumbled to herself about the time. You knew she was overdue to tea with Larys Strong so you smiled cheekily at her as she breezed past you, pressing a kiss to your head before heading to the door. 
“Ser Criston, stay here with Y/n, I shall take Ser Berrill with me to my meeting,” and she was out the door before Criston could nod his assent. 
You smiled then, looking to where Ser Criston stood and abandoning your embroidery to skip over to him. He smiled at you, bowing his head in greeting and you giggled. Criston didn’t know when that had become his favourite sound in the world but it was better than even the Septon bells on a wedding day. 
“I think I shall head back to my quarters Ser Criston, accompany me?” You asked, reaching to grab his arm and threading yours through his. Criston cleared his throat and nodded, his neck and cheeks going hot at the feeling of your body pressed so close to his side. It was inappropriate for a girl of your age and stature to be standing so close to him. But you had been doing this all your life, and despite the whispers that now began to pervade the keep about this behaviour, you refused to stop. (And of course Ser Criston was incapable of saying no to you). 
Criston opened the door and led the way out into the hallway, walking slow enough for you to keep pace with him. You were chattering on about something or other, he was too busy surveying your surroundings to fully pay attention, and the glimpse of your breasts that he caught every time he looked down to you was enough for him to keep his eyes away from your form completely. 
“...and that’s why Aemond has cemented his place as my favourite brother.” You giggled and he couldn’t help but look down to you again, smiling distractedly when he caught sight of the way your breasts curved under your emerald green gown, at the slight bumps of your nipples that he could see through the fabric. 
“He is a true prince of the realm and a great brother for you, Princess,” Criston answered, hoping it would be enough of an answer for you. You smiled and nodded and began on another story but stopped as you reached the doors to your chambers. You paused outside the door, opening and closing your mouth a few times. You chewed at the tip of the nail on your index finger and looked up at Criston with big doe eyes that had his entire body clenching up. 
“Ser Criston… would you come into my chambers with me? I don’t particularly feel like being alone right now.” You were twisting side to side at the waist lightly, hoping he would cave. 
“I do not think that is appropriate Princess,” he replied quietly, voice going low and gruff. 
“Please, Ser Criston? There is nothing wrong with my protector joining me in my chambers,” you argued, eyes going teary. 
“Princess…” he sighed, shaking his head. “We may know we are not doing anything scandalous but others will not know. I will not be responsible for anyone questioning your honour.” You sighed, almost admitting defeat, before looking up at him once more. 
“What if there is someone in there right now, waiting to destroy my honour? Then it would be irresponsible of you not to accompany me into my chambers,” you smiled triumphantly, before quickly pouting again when you remembered that cheekiness would not work in your favour. 
“Do not speak of such things Princess,” he replied sharply, swallowing aggressively at the thought of someone daring to come close to you with those intentions. 
“Then do not risk it Ser Criston and accompany me into my chambers,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Criston sighed once more before nodding in acquiescence. He knew you would always win, it was only a matter of how long he was willing to fight against you. 
You smiled brightly and grabbed onto his arm, dragging him into the room with you and shutting the door firmly behind you, sliding the lock closed before Criston could even realise you had done it. 
You leaned back against the door and watched him stand in the middle of the room, looking around the entire room before deeming it safe for you. He turned back to you and saw the mischievous smile on your face before sighing once more. 
“The room is safe Princess, I must return to my guardpost now,” he said, but he knew it would be easier said than done leaving now that he was inside. You just shook your head, continuing to block the door. 
“But I don’t feel safe Ser Criston, you must stay and continue protecting me,” you whined, rushing forward and falling to your knees right in front of him. You clasped one of his hands between yours and pouted as he began trying to get you to stand up. If someone walked in now and saw the princess on her knees in front of a knight, he would be sent to death quicker than he could pray for forgiveness. 
“Stand up Princess, please, you should not be on the floor,” he sounded pained, holding onto your elbows and trying to get you to stand without yanking you up. You just shook your head and did something that made his heart stop directly in his chest. You brought his hands to your lips and gently kissed the backs of both, staring up at him from under fluttering eyelashes. 
“This is exactly where I should be, Ser Criston. You have protected me my entire life, you have cared for me like no other, loved me like no other. I am devoted to you even beyond the gods. It is only right that I show you my devotion, show you my thanks, right here on my knees.” All breath abandoned him as he looked upon you, innocent and pure, on your knees with your face right by his cock. He swallowed harshly, shaking his head. No, no, no. He could not do this. He had abandoned his vows once already. And while he wholeheartedly believed that if he abandoned them with you then it wouldn’t be a waste as it had been with Rhaenyra, the thought of sullying you, of allowing himself to feel all that… heat and desperation, filled him with a shame that would eventually kill him. 
“Princess, please heed my words, you cannot do this, we cannot do this. You say I have protected you my entire life, and it is from this too I have protected you. From the men who wish to steal your honour and sully your body. I will not be one of them.” He wanted to sound firm but it came out pleading, almost verging on a desperate whine that had you frowning and tilting your head. 
“I only want you, Ser Criston. I don’t want any other, and I know I never will. You have never denied me anything, please do not deny me this,” your lip began to wobble and tears pooled so quickly in your eyes that they began to spill over before he could try and sway you away. You began to blubber and he dropped to his knees awkwardly in his armour, 
“Please don’t cry Princess, please don’t cry,” he begged, throwing off his gloves and cupping your face with his hands as you began to sniffle. His skin was rough and warm and you rubbed your cheek into his palm like a puppy. 
“You will not be sullying me, you will still be protecting me. If you do this for me then I will know what love feels like and I will know how to judge a suitor. I-I will know what pleasure feels like,” you added shyly, leaning closer to him. “You will only be teaching me. There is nothing wrong with teaching, you have been teaching me and my brothers since we were children.” 
Criston sighed and shook his head, grunting at the battle that waged a war in his head. He closed his eyes, knowing that if he kept looking at you he would break much too quickly. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for anyone. It was wrong to be such a lustful creature. But you whimpered and whined in his hands, turning to press open-mouthed kisses against his palms and he could feel the cracks appearing in his resolve along with his shame. When you took his index finger into your mouth, sucking on it like a child with a treat, the feeling of your warm, wet, mouth had spikes of hot pleasure shooting through his body and any remaining resolve dissolving as easier than salt into water. 
Criston moaned, too loud for his liking, and his breath shook out of him, head bowing as he panted against his chest. You could see the change in him, could see that you had won as his free hand began to roughly tug at the straps of his chestplate. It fell away and clattered onto the floor as you continued sucking on his finger, swirling your tongue around the digit. Criston sucked in a breath before pulling his finger from your mouth, cupping your cheek with the same hand and spreading your spit over your face. He pulled you into a kiss, a harsh thing that had you gasping and keening and yelping slightly when your bottom lip pinched between his mouth and your teeth. But all bonds on him had been unleashed, and he was ravenous. 
You fell against him, becoming just as desperate though with far less experience. You shoved your hands into his hair and pressed your chest to his, settling yourself onto his lap as he fell back onto the floor, torso held up by his elbows. He plunged his tongue into your mouth while you collected your skirts into your hands so you could sit on him without any intrusion. Criston pulled away from you, panting against your mouth for a moment before gently shoving you off and standing up again. He began undoing the rest of his armour and you sat on your knees and watched him. His hair was mussed from your hands and his cheeks had gone rosy pink. You heard the clanks of metal as each piece fell away and more of his body was revealed to you. The soft clothes he wore underneath were next, his shirt pulled over his head and tossed to the side without a care in the world. 
The soft bronze skin of his abdomen was taut and curved along each defined muscle. A light dusting of dark hair sat along his chest and trailed down his stomach until it disappeared below his breeches. You couldn’t handle being away from him any longer, a desperate heat crawling over your skin as if bugs had begun buzzing under your skin. 
You shuffled forward on your knees until you were right before him. You pressed a hand to the warm skin of his stomach, lightly scratching your nails down toward the waist of his pants. He shuddered, curling forward slightly and resting a hand on your shoulder. 
“Princess…” he sighed, but he didn’t stop you either. 
You slipped your fingers into the waistband and slowly began to move it down. His cock caught in it before popping out and gently slapping against his abdomen. You stared at it, mouth suddenly full of saliva and legs trembling. You reached out and grasped it, the skin soft and burning hot. The tip was bright red and glistening, a small pearl dribbling out of it and sliding down the length. Another pearl dribbled onto your hand and you tightened your hold on him, listening to the gasps and moans he let out. You didn’t know where the desire to kiss it, to lick it, came from but you didn’t deny a single thing your body desired. You leaned forward and licked just under the head of his cock, smacking your lips slightly to try and decipher what exactly the taste was, before going in for another lick. You ran your tongue up the length of his shaft and back down. The hand on your shoulder clenched tight into your gown and pulled you closer to him. You opened your mouth wide and took the head just past your lips, suckling on it. You stared up into Criston’s face, his mouth open as he panted and moaned like he was in the most pain a man had ever felt. The sounds of your mouth smacking as you suckled on his cock echoed into the room and you rubbed your legs together. It sounded so wrong but oh so good. 
You pulled off of his length before going back to drag long licks along the length of his shaft. Everywhere you could reach you licked until Criston was keening loudly and pulling away. 
“Princess! Princess, please,” he huffed, cupping your face as you sat there staring up at him. You reached to your back and pulled on the ties to unlace your dress as much as you could on your own. The top loosened and the collar fell below your breasts, baring them to the cool air and the eyes of your protector. Your nipples had pebbled and you shivered as the cool air of the keep brushed over your skin. 
Criston stood you up and you allowed the dress to fall fully to your waist, smiling unashamedly as he continued to stare at your body. You wanted him to see you, to see every part of you. You loved him like you had loved no other, and you wanted to show him somehow. He led you to your bed, sitting on the edge and staring up at you. He bent forward and kissed the space between your breasts, rubbing his cheeks against the flesh on either side of his head. He breathed in the smell of your skin, kissing along the softness to your left nipple. He swirled his tongue over it, flicking it, before engulfing it with his mouth and sucking lightly. His mouth felt too hot against your skin and you moaned as you leaned back slightly to continue watching him. 
Criston pulled away and cupped your other breast, massaging it and rubbing the nipple with the pad of his thumb. It felt almost ticklish on the sensitive skin but sparks shot through you all the same. 
“Ser Criston,” you whimpered, pressing your chest further into his hand and hoping he would put his mouth back to the skin. 
“Yes, Princess, yes,” he said hurriedly, but instead of returning to your breasts, he bent at the waist and brought his face to your pussy. You gasped, his thumbs resting against either side and peeling your sticky lips apart. 
You had felt the slick begin to seep out of you and slowly spread from your hole and over your lips, but to see his face begin to press between your thighs, to feel his thumbs gently rub the soft skin and hear the way he inhaled deeply as he settled his chin on the crevice of your thighs had you moaning louder than you ever had before. 
“We must be quiet Princess,” he whispered, but you paid it no heed as he dove his tongue between your thighs right then. 
His tongue was hot and wet, the rough bumps rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin of your pussy. He licked from bottom to top before focusing on a little nub near the top of the crevice, suckling on it so heat shot straight through you and your legs buckled. You were bowing over him now, nails digging into the skin of his back as you rested on his shoulder, panting and wailing. He lapped at your cunt like a dog drinking water, desperate and aggressive. He slurped and pressed his face as far as it would go into your flesh. You could feel his chin rub against the skin of your thighs, slipping and sliding in the juices that had dribbled out of you. From this angle only the tip of his tongue could reach your hole and he pushed it in just so, pulling it out and pushing it back in so your entrance clenched and unclenched over it, the rim becoming sensitive. 
“Ser Criston!” You wailed, bucking against his face as he moved it back and forth, his nose rubbing against that swollen little nub that made you feel like the world was bursting behind your eyes. 
You pressed your mouth to his back, and in a fleeting moment of clarity remembered that he needed to reach his release as well. You slid one of your hands between your bodies and grasped his cock, choking on a gasp when he moaned right into your flesh and the vibrations spread through every nerve ending. You grasped him tighter and he hissed. You mumbled apologies into his skin before beginning to jerk your hand back and forth along his shaft, listening to the squelch of not only his mouth on your pussy but his cum spreading over his shaft beneath your hand. The pleasure rose within you, his hips bucked frantically up into your hand, your legs twitched uncontrollably, your skin was on fire. Everything felt like it was moving too fast all of a sudden, a wave rising in your legs and stomach and deep in your core. He was moaning against you and the vibrations finally sent you over the edge, heat and overwhelming pleasure throbbing through you. Your fingers twitched and your arms felt like jelly and your ears were rushing with blood. You couldn’t hear Criston’s moans as he spurted onto your thighs and hands, as he pressed his face to your stomach and moaned. 
When your ears quieted you could hear the mingling of both of your panted breaths, could feel the saliva that had drooled from your mouth and smeared onto his back under your cheek. Your weight was completely resting over his shoulder and you could feel the stickiness all along your thighs, the breeze beginning to cool it and sending shivers down your spine. Your hand was sticky and you slowly peeled it away from his cock. Criston shivered and slowly brought you off his shoulder and into his lap. You stared into his eyes, deep brown and endless. He leaned down and kissed you, lips salty and slick. 
“Thank you, Ser Criston,” you said, smiling against his mouth.
Taglist: @autumnhymns
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Fontaine Characters Headcanons/Theories
Some of this info is known cause the siblings info got released but still:
Focalors
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Hedonist
Really only in it for entertainment (she’s just….kinda a loser 💀💀💀😭😭😭)
Hot-headed, a little childish, gives Neuvillette a hard time (yeeeah)
Would give up her Gnosis in a heartbeat if it was needed to place a bet
But would fight tooth and nail to get it back if she lost the bet
Hydro Archon (confirmed)
Hydro (confirmed, duh) /Sword (confirmed based on her Statue of the Seven)
Arlecchino
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Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers
The Knave
Used to be an actress
Method actress, used methods so outlandish she was kicked from theater
From Fontaine originally (HAH I WAS RIGHT)
Used to be an orphan
Runs an orphanage called House of the Hearth, uses it to recruit Fatui agents (!!!!!)
Those aren't gloves on her hands, she bears a curse or she's been turned into a non human entity
Pyro vision/Sword (leaks confirm she’s a Polearm!)
Cryo Delusion
Neuvillette
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Stone cold serious type (he’s literally the sweetest I love him????)
Huge proponent of justice (yup!)
Chief Justice of Fontaine
Puts up with Focalors’s attitude (Pretty much 😭)
Loyal to Archon (or is he)
Descended from mermaids (YALL YALL APPARENTLY HE'S THE HYDRO DRAGON SOVEREIGN???????!!!! WTF OMG)
Waiting for Wriothesley to slip up so he can put him in the slammer once and for all (political rival mayhaps idk)
His name deconstructed means "new city": mayhaps he's awaiting a moment to dethrone the archon and reconstruct Fontaine?
Hydro/Sword (apparently he's a Catalyst user,,,,missed the opportunity to give him a fencing sword as a weapon but whatever ig)
Clordine
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Assistant to Neuvillette
Bodyguard (yeeeah)
Prosecutor of Fontiane
Detail oriented, nothing gets past her
Vicious and Merciless (literally kinda the opposite but kinda not)
Eventually goes up against Arlecchino
Navia is her arch nemesis, seems as though Goldilocks is the only one having fun with their game of cat & mouse (the way I was off)
Electro (confirmed) /new weapon: Gun (Sword!)
Lyney
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Super protective of Lynette (rightfully so holy shit) 
Loves the chase
Cunning (eeeeh)
Very street smart (I mean kinda yeah)
You can’t tell whether he’s putting up a front, actually enjoys his web of lies, or a little bit of both
This man's gonna get used while thinking he's using the person that's using him at some point (oh Arlecchino I swear to god you better not)
Pyro (confirmed)/Bow (confirmed)
Lynette
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Something has happened to her in the past (…..well that was dark)
She’s not temperamental at all (yup)
She doesn’t smile too easily (mhm)
Strongest bond with Lyney (they twins lesgo)
Perceptive and agile (very!)
Lynette escapes her brother’s net of safety to save the traveler at some point (not so likely)
Anemo (confirmed) /Sword (confirmed)
Freminet
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Youngest sibling (yup)
introverted/enjoys personal space and quiet (lmfao I knew it)
Love for the water
Renowned Diver of the Court of Fontaine (confirmed)
Silent protector of both his older siblings (idrk)
Highkey that smartest book-wise out of the siblings (again idk)
Cryo (confirmed) /Claymore (confirmed)
Sigewinne
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Healer
Alchemist
Provides treatment for Wriothesley’s visual impairment
If not treatment, then she prefers sweet tasting drinks and Wriothesley prefers bitter but she still tries to get him on her new concoctions
Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Wriothesley
Hydro/Catalyst
Wriothesley
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May or may not be somewhat visually impaired
If so, not particularly compliant with treatment
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If not treatment, then he prefers bitter tasting drinks and sometimes humors Sigewinne by trying her new concoctions, mostly just pretends he’s converted to sweet and then goes for coffee or tea anyways
Likes to tease Sigewinne
Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Sigewinne
Investigator for Fontaine justice system (woeful news, he's a police officer. like not even a detective dude?)
Seems pretty chilled out, strategic, could be leading the organized crime w/Navia in secret
if he is secretly running robinhood-esque crimes with navia, then...Neuvillette sniffs something suspicious but never has the evidence to back it oop
Pyro/Claymore (He’s a Cryo Catalyst but his fists go boom boom like Heizou)
Navia
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Gives off Focalors vibes (was very wrong)
Playful (yeah I mean yeah)
Career Thief OR
Notorious organized criminal in Fontaine (literally what was I on)
Robin Hood of the sewers (I mean I was kinda sorta a tiny bit right)
Crafty, craftsman (ummm I guess her mind is?)
Super sweet, wonderful character (loved her so yes)
Loves messing with Clordine by making her think she's got her but escaping right in the nick of time (….needless to say I was way off)
Geo (confirmed)/Catalyst (claymore actually)
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gold-rhine · 6 months
Text
anyway, 4.1. SPOILERS, but lets talk about a dragon in the room. a popular consensus i've seen a lot says that traveler's powers are mini-versions of archons of element's region. like anemo's tornado is similar to venti's storm black hole bc it sucks ppl in, for geo you bring the rock down from the skies, kinda like zhongli's meteorite.
but this kinda starts falling apart at electro, bc electro travelers abilities don't look like raiden's. but you can still make a case that part of raiden's kit is energy restoration for other party members and electro traveler has it too, so its eeeeh a stretch but ok. tho energy restoration is just overall electro mechanic but ok ok
where it completely falls apart is dendro. dendro travelers kit is nothing like nahida. dendro traveler has shotgun blast on E and like mushroom spores growing out of the ground on burst, dendro application on limited static spot, while nahida has her radish death mark for all she can get in her selfie. they are not similar neither in function or visuals. you know who does grow grow mushroom spore thingies in set area during fights tho? Apep. Dendro dragon.
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hydro is the strongest case, because we now have a confirmed playable hydro dragon and there is no denying that hydro traveler is a bargain bin neuvillette, the pew-pew water pistol is too unique and similar to his hydro beam. i've seen some leaks of furina kit, i'm not going to spoil anything, but it's nothing close.
and if we look at other elements from this angle, you know who has an actual tornado just like traveler? dvalin. And who both throws rocks from above like geo traveler E AND grows spikes from the ground, like traveler burst? Azhdaha. we never met electro dragon, so we can't compare there, but the pattern i think is obvious. traveler powers mimic not the powers of an archon, but dragons of the element. archon powers just sometimes happen to share similarities, but mostly based on element's theme, like most of anemo shares the grouping trend.
i think traveler is a dragon, who traveled for so long and teyvat changed so much that their memories erased. their backstory is that their kingdom was destroyed by the invaders and they traveled the galaxy with their sibling for thousand of years, which tracks with how teyvat is initially was inhabited by dragons and then first throne invaded, destroyed them and humans ruled. traveler is a descender, but also somehow their sibling is part of this world, according to nahida. abyss sibing talks about "restoring homeland", and ppl take it to mean khaenriah, but we know for sure they're not from khaenriah originally. traveler can manipulate elements without a vision, like dragons do, and from neuvi we now know that "archon's authority" is based on power that was taken from sovereign dragons, which means when traveler resonates with archon statues, they resonate with vestiges of dragon powers. wake up sheeple, travelers are princess and princess of the defeated king of the dragons
EDIT post Act 5 AQ: now that it was revealed that gnosis are made out of remnants of third descender, it means that traveler is probs not actually a dragon, because apparently all Descenders have natural ability to absorb elemental powers. Which is interesting, bc like why?? Or maybe not all descenders, bc primordial one is descender too. If any descender could absorb dragon powers, then why gnosis is made out of specifically third descender? is it just bc they had his corpse sdfghj?? anyway, interesting.
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klemen-tine · 12 days
Text
Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 3
Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader
Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking, Partner Abuse
Part 1
Part 2
@problematicreblogger and @wpdarlingpan Since you guys wanted to be tagged lol
+++++++++++++
Y/N sat in the bathtub in the guest room. It’s been three days since they arrived, saw the photos, and the creepy trophy room. Three days since their conversation with Dick, finding out that they had all been on their terrace and taking photos of them. Stalking them. 
They wrapped their arms tighter around their legs, resting their chin on sharp knees and staring at the porcelain tiles and gold facet. Three days of walking on egg shells, somehow managing to evade most attempts in hanging out with the siblings and Bruce, and only really seeing them at meals. Y/N hasn’t built up the nerve to ask about the trophy room, but Y/N knows that everyone in the house knows that Y/N knows of the two rooms. They know of the photos, the ones taken without their permission or knowledge, and the clothes that have redefined their modeling career. 
Sighing, Y/N stared at their pruning hands and the now cool water. The bubbles dissolved a long time ago and the essential oils had become diluted enough that the scents no longer permeated the air. 
Finally dressed in a robe, lotion and oil on their skin and face and teeth washed, Y/N exited the bathroom and screamed at the sight of Jason on their bed. In the midst of their panic they threw the brush at the larger man, who caught it skillfully. 
“Wha-what is wrong with you? No-wait, why are you in my room?” Y/N walked around the large bed to where all their clothes are kept. Their eyes not leaving Jason’s imposing figure that was currently resting on their bed. 
“I knocked.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “I didn’t ask if you knocked, why are you in my room?” Jason shrugged, “Just felt like I haven’t talked to you in a bit.” Jason and Y/N’s relationship was like that of dragons in the old ages. Full of history and non-existent. 
Jason was already dead by the time Y/N had entered the Manor. A small body buried in the Wayne gravesite. In hindsight, Y/N’s timing had been awful. Moving in when Tim basically forced Batman to take him in as a Robin, Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship had worsened, Jason was dead for about a year, and Alfred had still been grieving. Truly a terrible time to join a family. Y/N could taste the tension when they had first moved in, and they understood immediately that they were just another unneeded burden. 
A 13-year-old Y/N cried in their bathroom, mourning their mother who had loved the fame more than them, the friends that loved Y/N for Y/N, and the life on the West Coast that they were now expected to continue on the East Coast. 
The unfairness of it all. 
“What do you want to talk about?” Y/N asked, rummaging through the drawers and finding a nice shirt and some nice jeans. 
“Hmm, oh you know, the casual how are you doing? How’s the model-life? Any fun stories you have? What have you been doing lately?” Y/N started changing in the bathroom, keeping the door cracked so they could hear the questions. 
When Y/N reemerged, now fully dressed and the robe hanging on the back of the door, they smiled at Jason, “I’m doing good, kind of tired but that's to be expected because of the ‘model-life.’ The fun stories I have are more of traveling around the world and seeing different cultures and eating good food. 
“As of late, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.” Jason’s brow raised, “You travel though.” Y/N nodded, “Yeah, some models travel with their pets and I think that's what I plan to do. They’re easier to travel with than a dog, and I don’t think a dog would like my condo.” Jason nodded, “You could always leave it here. The little spawn would take care of it.” 
“I can’t do that to the family. It’s my pet and should be my responsibility.” Jason hummed, “Is it because you don’t want to visit?” The air stilled and blue eyes met E/C. Jason didn’t look bothered, if anything he seemed relaxed about the whole thing, “It’s fine if that's the reason. I hate being here too.” 
Jason came back as a dead person Y/N knew not to talk about. From the stairways, they would watch Jason storm out after a bad argument with Bruce. Unable to completely understand what exactly was going on, but from the hushed conversations they knew it was something they didn’t want to know about. 
“I don’t hate being here, I just don’t have reason to visit other than Alfred.” Jason continued to stare at them, “Not even for ‘family.’” 
“Jason, when have you ever looked at me and saw a sibling?” Jason didn’t banter with Y/N, never showed interest or any inclination that Y/N even existed. Y/N is pretty sure that to Jason, Y/N is just a stranger living in the manor. 
Y/N wonders if they will see Jason’s temper. Will it appear like the monster hidden in the closet, waiting for the right time to lash out at anything? Y/N has heard the screaming matches, the threats, the holes in the walls from Jason. For someone who has killed people, Y/N wonders if they should really be mucking around with Jason. 
When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that had other priorities. Once upon a time, Jason was the youngest and loved by Bruce, but then younger Robins came. Jason died, and while never replaced, Robin was. 
When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that Y/N is not a part of. 
They are not siblings. Not cousins, relatives, they are not even friends. Barely acquaintances if Y/N is honest. Which is fine. Y/N has gotten over the hurt and feelings of loneliness. 
It is just Y/N against the world, with Alfred partially in their corner. Not fully. Never fully because Alfred will always be in the Wayne family’s corner, and Y/N is not a Wayne. 
Jason sighed, “Mmm, I guess that night when you took a beating from that one dude for not getting in the car.” Y/N paused in brushing their hair, mind reeling and slowly turning their head to look at Jason who was instead picking at his nails. Y/N opened their mouth, but Jason beat them to it, “You went out partying, like almost every high schooler does, and your boyfriend was drunk.” 
“Just get in the car, Y/N!” 
“No! You’re drunk and you said you’d stay sober!” 
“I am sober, now get in the fucking car!” 
“Fuck off!” A 15-year-old Y/N stormed off, turning their back to Marcus Dueller, the then jock of the school. A rough hand grabbed their shoulder and a fist met their face, “You don’t talk to me like that.” 
“...Marcus wasn’t my boyfriend.” Jason didn’t show any signs of hearing Y/N, “You took a pretty bad beating, I’ll admit it. I was going to step in once he started choking you, but you took that brick to his head pretty hard.” 
Blood splattered across Y/N’s face as Marcus collapsed. The hands around their neck loosening and Y/N took deeply needed gasps of air. Their throat aching and lungs burning as they rolled over onto their hands and knees. Tears pricked their eyes as the pain and realization settled in. 
“I called his friends. He was fine, just a concussion.” Marcus and Y/N never talked again, and Marcus’s friends took one look at the bruises on Y/N’s face and neck to understand what had happened. 
They all stayed Marcus’s friends, because unlike Y/N, Marcus was loved by his family. 
“Then, you walked your beaten ass towards the liquor store.” 
“Oh my God! Y/N!” Stacey cried out in shock, and she gently cupped bruised cheeks and watched split lips grow into a smile. 
“Can I have that bottom shelf vodka please?” 
“Bitch, you need a second shelf from the bottom vodka.” They sat outside of the store, Stacey’s partner taking over the counter as she watched Y/N take swig after swig from the bottle. Her concerned eyes tracing over each and every bruise and cut, down to the clothes they were wearing and scrapes in their knees and hands. 
“How many does this make?” 
“Seven. Whoever said seven was a lucky number is a liar.” 
“Oh Y/N, why do you keep doing this?” Y/N gave Stacey the most beautiful they could muster. Not minding the ache in their cheeks or the burning of alcohol on split lips. 
Looking back at it, perhaps Y/N was on a downward spiral. Trying to find love in other people that weren’t the people at home. From ages 13 to 15, Y/N had dated over 9 people. Not one of them made it past two months, and none of them were healthy. 
Once Y/N got into modeling, all their attention went into it. Dating and friends were on a standstill as their career and education became a priority. Maybe that was another thing Y/N inherited from Bruce, a known serial dater. Although, Y/N knows for sure that their taste in partners was definitely inherited from their mother. 
Some of Y/N’s earliest memories are of M/N getting berated and smacked around by men bigger than her. When they would leave, Y/N would emerge with bandaids and tears on their face. M/N would smile at them, blood from her nose painting her lips red and she would cup soft cheeks and whisper in their ears- 
“Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Y/N glared at Jason, who was meeting that glare head on. Now that they are older, Y/N has learned to hate that phrase. They have watched numerous models be in kind and gentle hands and still be beautiful. Still have a loving and healthy relationship with themselves and the other. 
Now that they are older, Y/N knows how untrue those words are. Yet, who said those words had to only be applied to romantic partners? 
“Now here you are, in your glass castle imitating diamonds.” Y/N’s nose scrunched, “Always the poet, reading the classics.” Jason shrugged, "Someone has to be literate in this messed up family. Sure as hell ain’t Bruce.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “So what? That still does not explain anything. More importantly, why now then?” Why was it now that they decided to make a move if they had supposedly been caring for a while now. 
Jason smirked, "Because finally, Bruce sees it too.” Y/N narrowed their eyes and watched with pursed lips as the bigger and stronger man got up from the bed, and walked over to them, “I’d wear comfortable shoes, Y/N. You’re going out with Bruce and the little spawn today.” 
“Wait, what do you mean Bruce finally sees it too? What is there to see?” Jason smiled at him, and it looked more of a monster preening at it’s prey. Callused hands reached up and traced the small, almost invisible scar on Y/N’s upper lip. 
“Make sure you smile, the vultures will be there too.” 
++++
“I do think green will look best on you.” Y/N smiled at Damian, “Green looks good everybody, Damian. You just need the right shade.” Between them was an emerald green silk shirt, the price displayed like a bounty and Y/N wanted to walk out of the store once they saw it. Yes, they made a lot of money, but Y/N also knows what it means to be frugal. 
Damian raised an eyebrow and continued to judge the piece as if it had insulted the family. Y/N set the shirt down and continued to peruse the aisles. Their eyes looking at all the clothing and trying to predict what will be in style. What could they use to match or create their own trend? It is still winter, meaning layers will still be necessary but how to make a stylish outfit when there needs to be layers. 
“Do you see anything you want, Y/N?” They jumped a bit, and whirled around to see Bruce smiling at them. Those blue eyes, intense like winter rivers, roamed over what Y/N was looking at and he raised a well groomed eyebrow, “Do you want that one?” 
“N-no, no thank you. I’m just looking.” Bruce hummed, and wrapped a large arm around Y/N’s bony shoulders and brought them close. He pressed his lips against his temple, an unusual act of affection towards his kids but everyone will chalk it up to Y/N being a model and still young. Bruce whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Just let me know what you want, and I will get it for you.” 
‘If I want to be left alone?’ Y/N didn’t voice it, but they didn’t have too. Bruce’s grin was sharp, “Within reason, Y/N.” A chill ran down Y/N’s spine and they swallowed down the bile threatening to come up. 
“I have money, Bruce. I can buy my own stuff.” Bruce picked up a shirt, “Let me spoil you. It is what parents do.” 
“You already paid off my condo, that is good enough.” Bruce continued to smile, “That was for the birthdays and holidays I missed while you were with us. I still have to make up for the time when you were with your mother.”  Y/N wanted to scream, “How about you donate that then?” 
Bruce smiled, “I already do. Let me spoil you.” He kissed Y/N’s temple once more before walking away, eyeing everything the way designers did when critiquing their pieces. Y/N had a feeling that if they didn’t get something from here, the store would be paying the price. Grabbing a sheer halter top and pair of black high waisted pants, Y/N let Damian throw the green top on the small pile and made their way to the check out. The cashier smiled nervously as the Wayne family stood in front of her. 
True to Bruce’s promise, he paid for the three articles of clothes, the pair of shoes, the jewelry, the accessories, the–
“I think that is enough.There are a lot of bags, and while I appreciate it, I really don’t need anymore stuff.” Y/N placated Bruce and Damian, already picturing the amount of trips it will be to take everything back home. The man seemed satisfied though, smiling and shrugging his shoulders, “If you insist. How about some lunch now?” 
Y/N wanted to decline. They wanted to go back to the manor and get away from everybody. The feeling of walking on eggshells and constantly being watched had their skin crawling and the need to take another bath. Bruce wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and brought them close, and Damian took up their other side. 
“You’re acting more as a bodyguard than a father it seems.” Bruce smiled, “We’re having a nice family outing. I’d hate it if one of your ‘followers’ interrupted." Y/N furrowed their brow, but they could not stop their body from tensing, “Someone is following us?” 
“Unfortunately.” The photos they saw in their old room re-emerged and a feeling of dread seized their muscles, making them lean further into Bruce. Yes, they were once all Robins, but not once in those photos taken from their terrace was there ever a reflection of the Bat. 
“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll make sure they won’t take any of you.” 
“How… how do you know its not you they want a photo of?” Bruce smiled, guiding them into a fancy restaurant, Damian requesting a table away from the windows, "Because they all know not to follow me.” There was something akin to a warning in Bruce’s voice that had Y/N biting their lips and following the wait staff quietly. 
Y/N watched as Damian and Bruce conversed casually, well, as casually as Damian can be. The topics went from school, a family named the Kents, and future prospects. Damian was still unsure about what exactly it is he wanted to do, and it most likely didn’t help that Tim was the one who was going to take over Wayne Enterprises. 
Y/N continued to eat and sip their tea, not wanting to add to anything as their mind wandered. After talking to Jason, it proved to Y/N that they were somewhat always being watched. Jason bringing up that one specific memory may have made Y/N’s heart rate spike, but it did prove that Jason was there. The photos, all of them that were taken without Y/N’s consent, show that everyone had at some point gained interest. 
However, why did they never act on it? Why wait until now to do something? 
‘Bruce finally sees it too.’ Y/N’s jaw clenched, what does Bruce have to do with any of this? Could they not interact without Bruce’s permission? Alfred would never allow that. 
Would he? 
“What do you think, Y/N?” The question jolted Y/N out of their thoughts and back into reality. Looking around the table to two expectant gazes, they gave an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I was thinking about something, what was the question?” 
Damian scrunched his nose, “What is there to think about when you have blood-related family members in front of you?” Y/N blinked in shock, and then remembered how much blood meant to Damian. They shrugged, “I have a busy schedule coming up.” 
Bruce stabbed the piece of steak with the silver fork, “You do, don’t you.” He stared at his child, one who he has left to their own devices and now is estranged from the family. Always keeping them at arms length, and never looking back to see if they are behind them. Not because Y/N trusts them to be, but because Y/N was used to them not being there. 
Y/N, for how proud Bruce is of them for standing on their own, is still naive. Still innocent. They didn’t notice the paparazzi lurking around, or maybe they got so used to them they learned to block them out. None of it sat right with Bruce. Those should have been things he taught Y/N. Things to prepare Y/N for a world that was bathed in camera flashes and gossip. How to look out for themselves. How to defend themselves, and what to do in case there is a stalker. Those should have been at least a fraction of what Bruce taught them. 
Yet, he never did any of that. Looking at Y/N sitting across from him, sitting tall and with a closed-off expression, had Bruce frowning. Y/N was still polite, smiled when they needed to and engaged in conversation, but there was still a wall between them. Almost like glass. Bruce is able to see everything and hear almost everything, but his ability to interact with his child is limited. All interactions stopped by the wall of glass put up by Y/N themselves. 
It's a good thing that Batman breaks glass windows on a daily basis. 
“You have some shoots in New York, will you be visiting afterwards?” Bruce watched Y/N’s eyes widen and lips pursed. He could see the breaking point, cracks spreading throughout the glass as Y/N’s mind tried to wrap around the question. 
“How–” 
“Is it odd for a parent to know their child’s schedule?” Y/N blinked, and processed the information. A tight smile formed on their lips, “How long have you known my schedule?” Bruce took a bite of the steak and Damian continued to eat his plate of some fancy pasta.
“Now Y/N-” 
“How long have you known my schedule?” Damian glanced up, irritated at their father being cut off, but the look on Bruce’s face had him settling down. The man was smiling, non-threateningly but all Y/N could see was the Bruce that had stood before them in the changing room after Gabanna’s runway show. The same eyes, full of intentions that had Y/N shivering and the money, power, and background to act on those intentions. 
“Like I have said, Y/N. I am making up for the lost time and neglect you have faced within our home.” 
“And I have said, Bruce, there is nothing to make up. That still does not answer my question about you knowing my schedule.” The cracks were spreading, chipping away and becoming weaker. 
“What parent doesn’t know-” 
“Don’t repeat that sentence. Bruce, you know what I am asking and you keep avoiding it. Who told you my schedule?” An emotion other than faux politeness finally filtered into Y/N’s voice, making the question sound firm and unlikely to bend or be swept away with Bruce’s elusivity. He smiled, “Oh Y/N, did Maya not tell you? GLM Agency has been under new agency since last year. Wayne Industries is now the parent of GLM Agency.” 
Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, their pretty face twisting as the words registered with them. Everything crashed on Y/N, like glass shattering and bathing them in their shards. The guest room that is identical to their bedroom at home, the clothes that are from their closet, the two rooms full of their photos and mannequins wearing their iconic looks, that fucking Batman-inspired piece of clothing. 
“Y/N.” They’re walking away from the table, head lost in thought and body moving on autopilot. The need to get away from everyone was overpowering the logical part of their mind, and Y/N is walking towards the front door of the restaurant. Pushing the glass doors open, and being bombarded by flashes from cameras. 
“Y/N, what do you have to say about your mother?” A 13-year-old Y/N was guided out of the condo by police officers. Eyes rimmed red from crying and their only source of comfort was the blanket they managed to snag before being escorted out. 
“Were you aware of your mother’s drug-use?” 
“Are you on drugs?” A 17-year-old Y/N walked past the paparazzi, keeping their eyes forward even though they wanted to snarl at that person. 
“Y/N! Look over here!” 
“Look!”
“Over here!”  
A large hand gripped their arm guided Y/N through the crowd and towards the parking lot where the car was. The large body blocking the photos and shielding them from the flashing of cameras that had thrown Y/N back in time. Once inside the safety of the metal box on wheels, Y/N became aware of their rapid breathing and the feeling of their heart pounding. Irregular beats and sweat began to form on their skin as they struggled to take a breath. Just one breath.
The hand that had guided them to the car grabbed their wrist and placed it on a large and firm chest, emphasizing the deep breaths that Y/N needed and wanted to take. Rough fingers gently traced their cheek, up to their ear, and then to their hair. Gently bringing Y/N back to the present. 
“Shh shh, it’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. You’re safe.” E/C eyes drifted around the car, and closed once they saw the person’s reflection. 
“Father, those vermin have been cleared. All of them will be getting in trouble.” 
“Thank you, Damian.” Y/N rested their head against the glass and fought down the need to jump out of the car. Bruce eyed Y/N, and what made it worse was there was an apologetic look on his face. 
“Y/N, I… I am sorry. I thought Maya had told you.” 
“Seems like your manager isn’t doing their job if you didn’t know. You should get a new one.” 
“Don’t talk about her like that,” Y/N mumbled, feeling a headache forming and they wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers and die. They could feel Damian’s pointed look through the seat, “Maya is a great manager. She will not be replaced.” Damian sneered, “She didn’t even inform you of the change in ownership.” 
“Because it does not concern me. As long as I am able to get booked and get to my destinations, it does not matter who is in charge.” Y/N paused, “Although, now it looks like nepotism.” 
Bruce huffed at his child’s overdramaticness, "It's not nepotism. I had no say in what shows you did or who booked them.” 
“But you had a say in what clothes I wore.” Ice filled the car and Bruce gave Y/N a long look. 
“Just that one piece, and I asked her to do it. She didn’t have to do it.” Y/N laughed, long and hollow as they turned their head to Bruce, “Of course she had to do it. Bruce Wayne is asking for a commission piece, who would turn it down without risking their reputation?” The man sighed, “Y/N, I submitted a commission piece. That is the only thing I had a hand in throughout your modeling career.” 
“Others won’t believe that.” 
“Who cares what others think.” Y/N whipped their head around to Damian, “I do. I do a lot actually. I care a lot about what my fellow models say and think about me.” The boy rolled his eyes, “Why? Their opinions don’t matter.” 
“And your’s do?” 
“We are family!” 
“By blood, yeah! That’s as far as it goes.” Damian looked ready to snarl out more remarks, but the abrupt parking of the car had both of them pausing. They were already at the manor, and Y/N wondered just how fast was Bruce driving to get them here so quickly. 
Y/N was quick to jump out of the car, “I will grab those bags later. Please don’t make Alfred take them.” Bruce followed, “Y/N.” 
“No! No, ‘Y/N’ or anything. I want to be left alone.” Y/N pushed open the manor’s front door, and they wonder how many times they have snuck in and out of these doors before. Was it really even sneaking out if someone knew? 
“Y/N, we need to talk about this.” There was something in Bruce’s voice that stoked the right ember within Y/N’s chest. Whipping around, they glared at the two Waynes, “For fuck’s sake, I just want to be left alone! I was fine with how things were. None of this-this- whatever the hell this is! 
I was fine on my own. I was fine without you guys. I would have been fine if you stayed away!” Bruce didn’t even look bothered that Y/N was yelling, in fact the asshole looked relieved. He gave a patient smile with fake concern in those blue eyes, “The thing is though Y/N, you never should have done it on your own.” 
Y/N rolled their eyes, “Where the hell did all of this even come from?! This… this sudden need to be part of my life? You’re not even being subtle about it!” They were drawing a crowd, but Y/N couldn’t even bring themselves to care. 
“I keep telling you, it does. Not. Bother. Me that you all were inattentive. It doesn’t make me mad, it doesn’t make me upset, it doesn’t stir anything within me knowing you were not there. Yet here you are trying to make it up and all that nonsense, but when I tell you that it's fine you don’t listen!
“It genuinely seems that you are not doing this for me, but to ease your guilt.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, and it appeared they were in their own little showdown. Bruce’s gaze, not showing a hint of anger or irritation at his child while Y/N seethed. For once, Y/N looked liked the wild one in the family. Their teeth bared and eyes full of unadulterated rage, they glared at Bruce with the face of a raging angel. 
They hated how Bruce’s lips pulled into a smile, and the feeling of gloating eyes falling on their body from all their siblings. Like they all knew something Y/N didn’t. 
“Bruce finally sees it too.” 
Y/N pocketed that thought, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. Nothing intelligent was ever said when angry– 
“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?” 
– Fuck it. Intense E/C eyes landed back on Bruce, “If you bought GLM Agency a year ago, why now?” Bruce continued to stare into Y/N’s eyes, “Because it seemed like you needed a break from Gotham. So, I figured a year away would be good.” 
Y/N narrowed their gaze, “Then why didn’t you call?” 
“Because it looked like you needed a break.” Y/N chuckled, “I needed a break, or you needed time to get those rooms set up?” Bruce raised a brow, but Y/N continued on, “It's one thing to have photos from some photoshoots but not photos taken without my consent. Or the clothes I’ve worn on mannequins with almost the exact same physique as me.” 
“They are exact.” Y/N tore their gaze away from Bruce to stare at Tim, the thin and exhausted looking teen standing above them on the stairway. Chapped lips opened, “We used the measurements within the modeling database and created mannequins that have your exact measurements.” 
Y/N gaped at him for a quick second before rolling their eyes, “Wow. That’s not helping your guys’ case at all.” Dick approached them, going for a placating gesture and an easy smile, “Now Y/N, I think you might be overreacting–” 
“I think I am underreacting to all of this. I find out that you all have been taking secret photos of me, which someone them are from my ‘stalker’ and I don’t really believe that but whatever, you have access to my bank account, you bought the modeling agency I work for, commissioned a Batman-inspired piece, and that you have been keeping some of runway pieces on models that are exactly my measurements!
How else am I supposed to be reacting?! And I still don’t have my phone back!” Y/N snapped at Dick, and then began to rub their temples when the headache got worse. An Aspirin, they need an Aspirin. Now, preferably but Y/N has the strangest sense that even if they did take it, the headache would not go away. 
“Whatever, just… I’m going home tomorrow and whatever was bought today just… just ship it. Since you know my address and all that apparently.” Y/N began walking up the stairs, ignoring the panicked looks some of their ‘siblings’ were giving them and the dark look on Bruce’s face. 
Dick, ever the peacemaker, reached out, “Wait, you can’t go back yet! You still have a few more weeks before your next shoot. Just stay for a few more days.” 
“Add kidnapping and being held against my will to that list too.” Y/N continued walking, feeling exhausted and wanting to sleep. They missed the nod Bruce gave Tim and Damian, and they missed the dark and knowing looks on Jason’s and Dick’s face. The walk back to the room was long, and more exhausting than usual. The events of today caught up to them and Y/N wanted nothing more than to cry, scream, and then go to sleep. 
Because why not. 
“Y/N, you are making a mistake.” Dick followed after their younger sibling, who only sped up to get away from them. The man grabbed Y/N’s forearm, “Y/N, listen! You don’t want to do this.” 
“What is ‘this’ you are talking about Dick? I am literally just going home. It is not a big deal.” Y/N tried to pull their arm away from Dick, but to no avail. 
“It's how you are doing it Y/N. All we want is to spend time with you and make up for the lost time!” Y/N wanted to scream at Dick, but held it in and instead gritted out, “Why didn’t you do it normally then? Like… texting or calling.” Dick pouted, those blue eyes looking sad and his lower lip jutting out like a toddler, “We missed you, and we just wanted to see you.” 
Y/N’s face was scrunched, their mouth open in disgust, “How can you say that with that look on your face as if you all weren’t the ones who ignored me?” Dick looked heartbroken and some part of Y/N felt bad about that. They remembered the room with the photos and the other side of Dick that they saw only a few days ago. Their body seized in terror, but Y/N tried to keep their expression neutral. 
“Look, Dick, once again I am not mad about how my time here was spent. I’m genuinely not. But you guys keep throwing it back in my face and saying such contradicting things, of course I’m going to get upset about it.” They are trying to be civil. Trying so desperately to be civil and it feels like it is not working. Old wounds and painful memories continued to be dragged out of the crevices of their minds like it was some type of zoo attraction. 
A 16-year-old Y/N stared at the shattered mirror, tears racing down their face as they stared at their broken reflection. All they could see were the imperfections everyone continued to call out. Comparing them to their mother, to other models, to society’s twisted views of beauty that Y/N is trying to be. 
If their mother was alive, would she know what to say? Would she gaze at them with those soft eyes and long lashes, smiling beautifully and whispering, “Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Continuing to remind Y/N that modeling was not a gentle job. It wasn’t a job for those with paper skin or glass bones. Those easily hurt by the meanest of comments, nastiest looks, and the horrendous words never made it in this industry.
Would this have been easier if they had the support of Bruce and his kids? 
Labored breaths and broken sobs filled room-turned-practice room as the mirrors caught the sight of a teenager breaking down. Crumbling and shattering under the pressure, pricking their fingers as they cleaned up the broken mirror and picking up their shattered image. 
It will be those same mirrors that watched those broken shards form their glass castle, posing as diamonds to deter others from trying to break in. 
Y/N continued to walk down the long hallway, ignoring Dick’s calls and locking the door behind them. It was only 2pm, and Y/N had plans to sleep the rest of the day. They had no bags to pack, and nothing here they felt like taking. All they needed to do is sleep the day away, which will be easy, wake up tomorrow, call a cab and skedaddle out of here. 
“Thats all we have to do, Y/N.” They closed their eyes for what only felt like a few minutes, until jostling and whispers of their name had them groggily opening their eyes. A yawn escaping them and their eyes struggled to open. 
“Why are you in my room?” Tim gave a small huff, “Its dinner time.” Y/N buried their face in their pillow, groaning out a ‘not hungry.’ The young man hummed, “I think you should come down for this one, Y/N. You might get the answers you want.” 
“Not interested.” Tim leaned down, his breath tickling Y/N’s ear, “You’re glass castle is shattering, Y/N. Don’t you want help fixing it?” Y/N wanted to swing. They wanted to do something to get their point across that they wanted almost nothing to do with this crazy family anymore. 
They opted to glare, and Tim gave a soft smile, “C’mon, lets go eat. Besides, Alfred said that the cab won’t be coming for you if you don’t eat dinner.” 
“Alfie!” Y/N groaned into the pillow, and they had stopo themselves from throwing up their arms and legs in a fit. Leave it to Alfred to do something so diabolical. Groaning one more time, Y/N sat up and mentally braced themselves for this shitshow of a dinner. 
E/C eyes looked at the door they know they locked, and chose that whatever little bickerment that will start was not worth it at this point in time. Throwing their legs over the bed, they followed Tim out of the room and towards the dining room. 
Everyone was there, and waiting for Y/N to appear. Once again, they were made to sit between Bruce and Damian, which they did so with little complaint. 
“Now, Y/N, it looks like everyone has some explaining to do.” Y/N gave Bruce the driest most unimpressed face they could muster, to which the man took with a smile, “So, what questions do you want answered?” 
‘They’re really doing this.’ Y/N could feel another headache forming, but decided to take the brightly colored bait. Looking at Jason, who was meeting their gaze with his green eyes waiting for this question, Y/N asked, “What did you mean when you said ‘Bruce sees it too.’” The man smirked, meeting Bruce’s eyes and back to Y/N, “Exactly that. The old man finally sees what you are to this messed up family.” 
Y/N narrowed their gaze, taking a bite of the pasta, and chewing slowly. Dick decided to chime in, “Y/N, you have been loved by us for a while. Something you probably pieced together, but Bruce took a while to see it because… well because you’re not us.” 
“Not like, you’re not Robin, but more like you’re not…” 
“You’re fragile.” Everyone’s head turned to Damian, and Y/N had half the idea to be upset about that. They raised an eyebrow, but before they could say anything Damian continued, “You are not meant for this life we lead. Vigilantism never suited you, and that is something I picked up on when I first came here.” 
When Damian had first met Y/N, it was like seeing a rare flower that had to be protected at all costs. Y/N was something that at the slightest gesture, could be hurt. When people come across something ethereal like that, the need to protect it can be divided into two different directions. 
Hovering or distancing. 
Bruce chose to distance himself, whether he knew it or not, and Damian had followed suit. He watched as his older sibling hovered from a distance, watching the rare flower bloom before it was finally the right time to engage with it. 
“Y/N, it isn’t so much that I didn’t want to interact with you, it is that I didn’t know how.” Bruce looked into his child’s eyes, “How could I interact with someone who needed gentle hands, when there is not a gentle bone in my body.” Bruce’s hands have broken more bones than the human body has. He has scars on his skin and calluses on the palm of his hands. 
“It took me a while to figure out why, but once I did, your absence became suffocating.” Everyone had been gasping for air, doing everything in their power for the slightest piece of oxygen. It was the fear of Y/N being harmed that kept them collared and chained to the photos, every interview, every runway show. 
However, Bruce knows that every now and then, children should be able to spread their wings and fall. Y/N ended up flying, soaring above them and never looking back down. Bruce, and the family, decided to give Y/N a year. Just one on their own. This gave them all plenty of time to improve the glass terrarium that they wanted Y/N to be placed back in. This time they will be protected and paid attention too. 
“When everyone stated that I can finally see the impact you have on this family, it means I have to come to terms with the fact that I no longer want to be hands off with your life and career.” Y/N’s brow furrowed, not liking the term ‘hands off.’ 
“You have done great on your own. A fabulous job. Clawing your way up and making a name for yourself, I am so proud of you. Everyone is extremely proud of you. 
However, there is no need for you to struggle anymore. You’ve proven yourself, now let us take care of the rest.” Y/N felt shivers go down their spine as they stared at their family in fear. They took in each expression, and when they made eye contact with Jason, the other had a daring look in his eyes. Begging for Y/N to do something, similar to how predators hope for their prey to fight back to make the kill all the more interesting. 
“But… But I don’t need your help, Bruce. I can do this on my own.” Bruce’s smile was that of honey, luring in unsuspecting insects and trapping them in its viscous fluid. If Y/N were younger, they may have fallen for it. They may have allowed themselves to coat their fingers in sugary words and sweet gestures, just so they could feel the love from a father. 
“I know. We know, but you don’t need to anymore.” 
“Now wait a minute-no. No no no no. You can’t just do that, explain yourself, and expect me to just roll with it.” Y/N set their napkin down, and tried to stand from the table, “I don’t need your help, although thank you for wanting to I guess. I am fine with it just being me and Maya.” 
“About that…” Dick grimaced, handing Y/N his phone and pulled up was an article. 
Y/N’s eyes widened and the world around them went cold. THey looked back up, “You’re lying.” Dick shook his head, fake empathy across his face as Y/N continued to read the article.
“No. NO this is a joke and a terrible one. Maya would never–” 
“They were found in her apartment, Y/N.” The headlines, eerily similar to ones from five year ago, flashed across the small phone screen. 
Manager of Model Y/N L/N Suspected of Drug Usage
Y/N wanted to cry. Horrible flashbacks resurfacing and tears pricking their eyes. They turned to Bruce who was still sitting and eating his pasta.
“Bruce, please. I know Maya, she would never do this.” The man said nothing. Y/N bit their lip, “Bruce… Bruce please. If its because of what I said then take that out on me. Please leave Maya out of it.
“Please Bruce! I know Maya. She’d never do that, and–and Bruce please.” Y/N was whimpering now, tears streaming down their face as the thought of losing their manager, the last person they had, nearly had them collapsing to their knees. 
“Lets make a deal, Y/N.” Bruce wiped the corner of his lips, and grabbed Y/N’s thin wrist. 
“You come home more often, during breaks and whatnot. I won’t have a lot of control over your modeling schedule, but make sure you include time each week for family. The only exception is when you are out of the country.” Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, but nodded along. 
“In return, Maya gets out of trouble. Nothing will change other than the weekly meeting with family.”  Y/N can’t breathe. They cannot breathe and there were eyes all on them. Gulping down on whatever air they can get a hold of, Y/N sobbed out, “Why are you going to such lengths?” 
Bruce stood, and even though Y/N is tall, no one compares to Bruce’s towering figure. He smiled down at the model, and cupped a wet cheek with a calloused hand. Ice blue eyes stared into watery E/C eyes, and that smile turned too sharp to not be hidden blade, “I told you. It is too make up for lost time. Plus, as those photos suggest, you need protection. What better protection could you have that is not only part of the family, but also vigilantes?
“While it is true that diamonds are never made without pressure, diamond-encrusted jewlery require gentle hands and patience.” Bruce kissed Y/N’s temple, and the model flinched away. Ice blue met their eyes once more, “Now pick, Y/N. Either way, you will still be meeting us once a week, but you can have someone you know at your side or someone under my command.” 
+++++
“And cut! Good job everyone!” The flashes from the camera stopped and the stage lighting turned off, no longer blinding everyone within the room. Y/N stood up from the red couch, a smile still on their lips as they thanked the photographers. 
“Y/N, as always, perfect shots!” 
“Good job Y/N!” 
“Thank you for doing this, Y/N!” They continued to smile and acknowledge everyone that passed by, Maya right behind as they walked back to the changing room. Sitting on the couch was Jason’s large form and Tim’s lithe one. Both of them looking up as Y/N entered, ignoring Maya’s flinch. 
“You have a birthday gala you need to catch. Come on, change out of that and lets go.” Leave it to Jason to get the message across. Y/N nodded, taking to the changing room where they know their clothes are already waiting for them. They could hear Tim interrogating Maya in the politist way. Clipped words and empty praises. 
“Y/N they came out of nowhere! They stormed in and went straight to a vent where these-these drugs were! I’ve never even seen those there before! Let alone know that there was a vent!” Maya cried into Y/N’s shoulder as Dick and Damian watched on. 
Emerging from the changing room in jeans and a crew neck, Y/N sighed, “Alright, shall we get going?” Jason stood up and Tim shook Maya’s sweaty hand. Y/N gave his manager a nod, signalling for her to take the rest of the day off. Jason’s large hand rested on the small of Y/N’s back, and Tim led the way to the new car that Bruce bought. 
The ride was only two hours, filled with light conversation and catching up. Once at the mansion, Y/N greeted Alfred with a hug. Not as tight as they normally are, but it felt wrong entering the mansion without hugging Alfred. Bruce entered the foyer and grinned, hugging Y/N and kissing their temple. 
“Your clothes are in your room, and there is another present on behalf of Damian and Jason.” Y/N nodded, “Thanks, Bruce.” The man smiled, “Come and eat dinner when you are done. We’ll have enough time before the Gala to at least eat something.” Y/N began walking away, each step up the stairs feeling like there was lead on their feet stopping them from going any further. 
Once in the room, the locked the door and on the bed was a box and black and gold clothing. The black looking like it was made out of silk, and the gold was sequin. Y/N carefully walked towards the box, and when they lifted the lid, a white kitten mewed at them. Their fur still looking young and their eyes bluer than Bruce’s. They mewed and mewed, and Y/N could feel tears streaming down their face. 
In neat cursive and tied around the bow of the box, was a small note, ‘We’ll watch her when you decide to leave the country.’ 
Y/N bit their lip, and felt as if their world was falling a part once more. Broken glass surrounding them and no matter where they stepped, their feet will end up bleeding. Now forced to rely on their family to carry them out of the mess they made, and now… now there was a lifeform that this family can and most likely will use against them.  
Thin fingers gently picked up the cat and gave it a wobbly smile, as she mewed at Y/N. A red collar already around her neck, tied in a perfect bow. 
“Y/N, the makeup artists are here. Are you ready?” Wiping their tears, Y/N set the kitten down and took in the black and gold piece once more. 
“Not yet, but they can come in. I’ll get dressed afterwards.” 
“Alright.” The door opened, despite Y/N locking it, and it was Dick smiling as he let in the two artists who were now scrambling to get set up. Blue eyes traveled from the cat, to the clothes, and back to Y/N. He grinned and stalked closer to his younger sibling that was now being corralled into sitting in front of the makeup artist. 
He picked up the kitten and passed her for Y/N to hold, whispering in their ears, “Happy Birthday, Y/N.” 
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Honestly... I really like this series. I think I'm going to do other stories but in the other characters POV now.
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