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cxlamarisalxmi · 11 months

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Being Miguel’s daughter and hosting Venom [2]

[Platonic One-Shot]

c/w: fighting, depictions of violence and gore, angst, female pronouns (she/her), feminine gendered terms used to describe reader, Venom is a big softie, only for you though 🤭

a/n: this is marked as part two because the first one shot was the first part, the drabble was more of an introduction to the idea 😭 I understand there might be some confusion about how these parts are set up but yeah the drabble was intended to introduce the idea more than it was meant to be an actual part of the series— like an extended epigraph… sort of

—

It was raining the day your father had decided to return to your dimension— the dark and gloomy rain clouds above thick and heavy as they devoured the sky.

With them they brought raindrops thick and heavy in density that were spat out in a torrential downpour. Falling in copious and rapid quantities.

You had been sitting perched on the corner of a building’s roof, observant and watchful as you patrolled the streets from your perch.

The darkness that had followed the overcast night sky left the street lamps and starkly bright city lights bright and prominent in their glow. And your sensitive and finely tuned auditory perception picked up on the sounds of tires driving through rainwater on the pavement. The sound of particularly nocturnal people walking, bustling and moving about— the way their shoe soles stepped on the soaked through concrete of the sidewalk, some splashing as they came across puddles in the divets of the ground.

Everything that involved your senses and being aware of the world around you sharpened dramatically, now keen on focusing on the world around you. Listening starkly for any kind of traumatic event occurring.

“I like the rain.”

“Me too.”

“The atmosphere is relaxing. We feel at peace.”

You couldn’t help but agree, the weather more than accommodating in the sense your mood had improved drastically.

It had been two weeks since your father had made his appearance, and since then you had been tightly wound and more than a little hurt at his abrupt intrusion. Even more hurt at the way he had just left without so much as an ounce of effort in trying to get you to talk to him.

He had called your name, and he did speak to you— that was something you could acknowledge, but the fact he hadn’t bothered trying beyond that spoke a lot about what your relationship had come to. What it still was.

He didn’t care about you, he never had and the encounter from a little less than half a month ago gave you the impression that he never would.

A small part of you could admit that you had hoped maybe he would come after you, chase you down, take you into his arms and hold you tenderly. Lovingly.

An even larger part overwhelmed that feeling with a cold and bitter indifference that made you more angry than sad. Sparked to life when he left you behind in a home you didn’t know, with people you didn’t trust— and festered to much more significant levels as the years continued to pass with not a single word from him.

You shouldn’t have expected him to make an effort to fix your relationship, and you hated that you were so bothered that he hadn’t tried at all. You should’ve known that he hadn’t ever intended to be involved with you at all. And you should’ve just accepted that your relationship was beyond fixing— and there was no point in trying to repair something that had died a long time ago. Irreparable— damaged and broken.

And whilst anger and hate had spread and taken over most of your heart and soul, there was still a small part inside that was more hurt than anything.

That small child inside that had depended on her father more than ever in the wake of her mother’s death. A little girl that had quickly learned he wasn’t dependable, she couldn’t count on him at all. And she was quick to learn that there wasn’t anyone who had her back, was on her side. It developed into her trusting absolutely no one— “the only one I can really trust.. is me.”

“[Y/Name]? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured quiet and tame as you continued to watch over the city. The darkness and ache that had consumed your heart so very deeply at the remembrance of your father had dissipated when your friend had spoken to you. “I’m fine V.”

“Was it about him?”

You didn’t respond and they had expected that you wouldn’t, and didn’t say much after that. And you appreciated their understanding that you didn’t want to talk about them.

There was a moment of tranquility, peace in the loud bustle of your city as the rain continued to fall. But then your senses tingled as the familiar sound of a portal spinning open erupted behind you. There wasn’t a moment of stillness that you allowed before you were spitting webs at the wall behind the portal.

Miguel walked through the portal a moment later, it closed a second after and then you were launching yourself at him.

He may have not had the tingle at the expense he wasn’t even really changed like you had been. He hadn’t been bitten but had his genetic code changed, and his abilities came from a vial of liquid he injected directly into his bloodstream to keep his powers sharp and potent.

So, whilst he didn’t have the spider senses that tingled anytime danger was nearby, his natural instincts had been sharpened finely. Thus, he was able to bring up his arms as you drop kicked him into the wall you had slung your webs at.

Even though he was blocking his face protectively you had put enough strength behind the kick to hurt him, and he grunted as your kick connected sending him flying back.

[Y/Name] jumped to meet him against the brick wall and grabbed him by the throat, tightening her clawed fingers around his neck before she was pulling him from the wall and throwing him off the building to the street below.

The previous feeling of peace and content that had warmed her chest and blood had diminished, and was now replaced with thorough rage. Hot and ferocious.

[Y/Name] had sworn to Venom that she absolutely would resort to murder if her father ever returned to her universe, and here he was. So the alien didn’t falter nor make an effort to halt the anger that was slowly but surely filling his host’s body.

Another portal opened up behind her and she felt an itch of annoyance as she felt the familiar presence that made her senses tingle. Jessica Drew.

A snarl tugged at her features as she curled her lip and looked over her shoulder, a ferocious glare fierce and angry in her bright eyes.

“Venom.”

“Of course.”

Jessica stared as a thick, black matter pooled from her back and slid across her lean and muscular frame. The alien-like viscous oil gliding across every plane of her frame, concealing her entire white and blue suit in a tightened black version of it instead.

“[Y/Name],” Jessica began soft and quiet— an attempt to somehow quell the furious fire of rage she could feel hot and angry from where she stood several feet behind the young teenager. “I know what you must be feeling—”

“You don’t know shit.”

“You want to kill him. And I can’t let you do tha—”

Her sentence was cut short when she was suddenly thrown backwards, her senses had tingled but not nearly quick enough. And she had been sent backwards to the brick wall in consequence, she gaped at the O’hara stood in front of her on the edge of the roof.

She had turned to face Jessica with her back, and the blackened webbing surrounding her body seemed to pulse and tightened around her body. Every time she squirmed attempting to loosen them, cut them or escape they would just tighten. She resorted to calling out to [Y/Name] instead—

“Spider-Woman doesn’t kill people!”

[Y/Name] willed her mask to peel away, the small and thin tendrils crawling up her neck and hugging her forehead only made the harsh glare she threw at Jessica over her shoulder much darker. The snarl she gave baring abnormally sharp canines seemed to make her even more intimidating— it made Jessica uncomfortable how a simple look made a chill rake down her back.

“You’re right. But we do.”

And she shivered again at the alien voice that rumbled from the young adult’s chest. The words she spoke only succeeding in making her all the more uncomfortable and frightened. The tone she spoke in was deep and ferociously monstrous. And Jessica stared as the O’hara glared back for a single second before she jumped disappearing over the side of the roof.

[Y/Name] landed on the sidewalk paved along the side of the asphalt road, she jumped forward flipping out of the way as her father shot a web at the spot she occupied previously.

But he had jumped to meet her midair and they grappled as they fell back to the road, she managed to wrangle a hold on the back of his suit and brought forth Venom’s strength to throw him down the road before landing on it herself.

Miguel’s sharpened instincts flared aggressively as his young daughter launched a car at him. He spun around extending his arm forward simultaneously— the long and sharp blade on his forearm cutting the car cleanly in half. But she had been there to surprise him, lunging forward after she had thrown the car knowing he’d cut it in half opening up an ambush as she erupted in between each piece of the vehicle.

He gasped silently in shock at her appearance through the split and grunted when her punch connected to his face. Enough strength from her abilities coupled with Venom to send him flying back. And he flipped midair to land on his feet several feet down the street, he dug the blades on his forearms into the pavement to halt his movement as he looked up.

“I suffered! Alone! For twenty years, because of your cowardice!” [Y/Name] shouted as she stormed down the street, the mask Venom provided peeling back to reveal a ferocious snarl tugging her lips back and baring abnormally sharper canines.

“Protecting the security of the multiverse is not cowardly!”

“You knew invading another universe at the expense of your variant’s death was wrong! You knew your presence could collapse the very fabrics of a dimension! You always knew!” She roared in exclamation to his rather weak defense, having stopped just a few feet in front of him to properly put her feelings forward. Give him everything she had bottled up inside that had erupted suddenly since his abrupt appearance in her dimension two weeks ago.

Miguel just stood there, he swallowed thickly at her statement as he held eye contact with her. There wasn’t any indication he was intimidated by her on his face, his expression blank and guarded with slanted brows and narrowed eyes. But internally he was dreading the fight that would no doubt occur, she was anomoly after all.

“But— when she told you she was pregnant, when she told you she was excited to start your family.. what did you do? What did you do? You. Ran!”

“She was never meant to bear children! Never meant to give birth to you— that was not my fault!”

The audacity he had to ruin her life and not even acknowledge it only made [Y/Name] all the more furious, her blood boiling beneath her skin as she tightened her vicious snarl. “Not your fault?!”

[Y/Name] advanced forward, she reached to her left— her muscular forearm flexing beneath the deep black Venom suit as she gripped the side of another car and effortlessly lifted it throwing it at him.

He jumped to the side to dodge but she was there to meet him once again, having leapt from her spot on the street to put her knee in his face. He couldn’t bring his arms up quick enough to block it this time, and she forced him backwards when she utilized Venom’s alien strength to really hurt him.

Miguel grunted as her strike connected and he was thrown into the side of the building off to the side. She followed right behind him tearing her arm back and throwing it forward the second she was close enough. The hit had enough power and strength in it to send him right through the brick wall and into the empty warehouse within.

[Y/Name] landed several feet away from the form of her father on the ground, he was slow to get back to his feet but once he had he turned to face her. And she could tear his throat out at the scowl carved into his features, the conversation that followed only making her all the more infuriated.

“I’m not here for any other reason than to capture the anomaly in your dimension.” He says, a still blank and guarded look on his face. One that his young daughter matched only to a degree that looked more like she was enraged rather than unbothered.

“There’s no anomaly here, Venom and I would’ve picked up it’s unnatural scent immediately.” She reasoned.

“You wouldn’t know of it’s presence. Because it’s you.”

“What?”

“You are an anomaly, you were never meant to be born.. never meant to be bitten… never meant to host Venom. You don’t belong. You need to be contained.”

[Y/Name] froze, Venom inside stilling too as he and herself processed the words that had just fell from her father’s mouth. All was quiet for but a moment—

“You…”

Miguel watched as a dark look overtook her features, from enraged previously to downright hostile as her eyes darkened to an unseen degree. He felt a shiver of fear and intimidation shuck down his back in a brief burst.

“You bastard.”

The snarled words growled from her throat sent another ripple down his spine. And he swallowed thickly as the deep black viscous matter of Venom returned, and then she bore the same appearance as before.

The same lean and muscular frame but now entirely black with a white spider insignia, her mask’s eyes now more monstrous-like as opposed to the regular diamond shape as most spider people.

“Fine.”

[Y/Name] Venom snarled ferociously, Miguel watched as the alien bulked up his daughter. Not so much so that it wasn’t proportionate but enough to have him breathe out a brief exhale of uncertainty and anxiety.

His daughter had become powerful in his absence, and he had caused the black hatred to plague her heart. The fact she only looked at him with hate and a fiery light of murder and bloodthirsty rage was his fault and his fault alone. He had no one to blame but himself.

So, he really had no one to blame for this fight that would occur one way or another. He wasn’t sure he could beat her, and for the first time in a long while he felt a surge of anxiousness brew to life in his stomach. His heartbeat slightly erratic at the new feeling of diminished confidence in his chest.

He knew this would be hard, he knew he was walking into this fight with a significant power difference, and he knew for damn sure he wasn’t certain he’d keep his head. And Miguel had no one to blame for it—

But himself.

—

a/n: started writing out requests so expect to see those soon but don’t get too excited as I can’t promise when exactly they’ll be finished and posted, my classes are kicking my ass and my job fucking sucks so.. bear with me please and I hope you enjoyed!

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Taglist: @violilaqrs @christinesdemoness1958 @erensbbg @nickey-diano @gamersansblog @ayyybee @raweggeater @shrekstoesblog @azzy-ozborn @nda-approval @9kaaulitz @jazjelspen @myconglomerateromance @sweetheartlizzie07 @nyx-does-stuff @krazy-kattzz @sparklyphantom @loser-alert @bath1lda

Sorry if I missed you on the taglist!

#miguel o’hara #platonic reader #across the spider verse #spiderverse #miguel o’hara x platonic! reader #miguel o’hara x reader #jessica drew #miguel o’hara x daughter!reader #x daughter!reader

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alwayschoppedtaco · 6 months

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bedtime stories ll l.h.

pairing: lewis hamilton x wife!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

summary: the story of your relationship, as told through the bedtime story of Josie Hamilton.

word count: 1.3k

my masterlist

“Josie!” You yell down the hall. “Time for bed!”

“Momma!” You hear a frustrated groan from the playroom where your daughter has taken up residence. “I’m not even that tired.” The three-year-old shouts, making her way out of the playroom and towards where you stand, hands on your hips as you peer down at her tired eyes.

“Baby, if you go to bed, I will tell you a story.” You offer, stroking her curls off her forehead.

“The story of you and dad?” She begs, grabbing your hand from her hair and pulling you towards her room. You laugh at her quick change in mood as you agree to tell the story.

“Okay, but only if you get into your pajamas and get in bed.” Josie agrees to your bargain, slipping into her favorite pair of Disney princess pj’s and jumping into her new big girl bed that her dad had put together for her recently, with the help of Sebastian over facetime.

“Okay, where to start?” You ponder out loud, thinking of your husband and how you should go about telling this story.

“From the very beginning, momma!” Josie exclaims, moving over under her covers so that you could lie down with her.

“Okay, okay.” You scoot in close to her, wrapping your arm around her and beginning your story. “I met your father when I was working for McLaren in 2009, your father was coming off his first championship win in F1, and I had been interning under his lead mechanic.”

“And you guys locked eyes from across the room and fell in love?” Josie interrupts in excitement.

“Not quite.” You laugh, wrapping the covers tighter around her as she settled further into her bed for your story. “I talked to him maybe three times that entire season, he was a hotshot driver and I was an intern, we didn’t have much overlap.

“I was offered a leading position at Red Bull the following year, helping to develop the car that Sebastian won in.” You continue, a small smile forming on your lips as you reminisce. “The next time I spoke to your father was at a party celebrating Sebastian’s championship. He had come with Jenson to celebrate, Jenson never letting up a chance at a party.

“He came off a little snobby to me at first, you can get quite the ego when you are at the top of your sport, and only 1 of 20.” You explain, moving your hands as you talk. “He came up to me and offered to get me a drink, I had only talked to him a few times, but who was I to pass up a drink.

“He ended up asking for my number before he left, and that was that.” You sigh, thinking back to that night and how much alcohol the two of you had consumed, drunken secrets and actions that your daughter wasn’t quite old enough to hear about yet.

“But momma, when did you guys fall in love?” Josie asks, invested in the story.

“I’m getting there, I promise.” You laugh at her impatience before continuing with your retelling. “I stayed at Red Bull, occasionally running into your father at different parties and around the paddock, but it wasn’t until 2013, three years later, that anything happened.

“It was another championship for Sebastian, but by the end of the season Mercedes had offered me a job, and I had talked with Christian and decided that I would take it. And so I was one of the mechanics working on Nico Rosberg’s car. I talked with your father a lot more that year, growing closer and becoming friends. I have to confess that I liked him as a lot more than a friend for the next couple of years, but we were work colleagues first, and I wasn’t going to put my career in jeopardy over a boy.”

“Mom!” Josie exclaims in exasperation, her brown eyes wide with anticipation for the romance. “When do you guys kiss and get me?”

“I promise I am getting there, you just have to be patient. If I wasn’t patient then I never would have gotten you.

“Anyways, I stayed at Mercedes for a while before my dream spot at Ferrari opened up and I left Mercedes in 2015. I was at my dream job, back working alongside Sebastian, and finally starting to realize I wanted to settle down.” Josie is trying to keep her eyes from closing, fighting against the sleepiness she is feeling.

“Maybe this story can be ended tomorrow, hmm?” You suggest, noticing the tired eyes and her yawns.

“No!” Josie quickly exclaims. “I can stay up, I want to hear this!”

“Ok,” You smile fondly, continuing your story. “Well anyways, I was working with Sabastian, who had become a good friend of mine while I was at Red Bull, and he had suggested that he set me up on a blind date.”

“I was hesitant at first, not wanting a date disaster, but Sebastian wouldn’t stop pestering me about it so I finally caved.”

“And you had the best date of your life with dad?”

“Oh no, it was probably the worst date I have ever been on!” You exclaim, laughing at the memory. “He showed up half an hour late, didn’t even apologize! I had half a mind to leave at that instant, but I couldn’t think of a good enough excuse!”

“Hey now, I made it up to you eventually.” Lewis pipes up from the doorway, having arrived at some point in your story without either of you noticing.

“Daddy! Come sit with us and listen to the story.” Josie says through a yawn, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes.

“Okay, princess.” Lewis settles himself on the other side of her, stroking her hair comfortingly, knowing that it usually puts her straight to sleep.

“Continue momma.”

“Okay, well as I was saying, Sebastian set me up on the worst date of my life.” You repeat yourself despite your husbands disagreeing stare. “He arrived late, didn’t apologize for it, and by the end of the night I just wanted to get home and call Sebastian to complain.”

“Why did you go out with him again then?”

“He offered to walk me home, and somehow saved the entire night on that half mile walk.” You explain. “He finally apologized, explaining how nervous he was that he couldn’t pick out which tie to wear that night, he was so nervous that Sebastian called me the next day to tell me your father had called him five times to get his opinion on tie color and which type of knot he should use!”

There is a small smile on Lewis’s face as he watches you tell the story, remembering how sweaty his palms were over the thought of messing things up with you.

“I brought her flowers to make up for everything the next morning, I felt horrible for making a fool of myself.” Lewis laughs thinking of how much remorse he had for being late. “I brought her a bouquet everyday for a week to show her how sorry I was.”

“And it finally worked, cause I agreed to a second date.” You tell Josie. “Best decision I ever made.”

“Three years later I asked her to marry me”

“And then we got you.” You finish, looking down to see Josie’s eyes are closed, her breathing even.

You and Lewis carefully make your way out of her bed, closing the door to her room before making your way to your room.

“It really was my best decision to say yes to that second date.” You say settling into your bed and opening your arms so Lewis can cuddle with you.

“It was my best decision to get the ring after the third date.”

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x wife!reader #lewis hamilton x you #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #wife!reader #x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #formula 1 #mom!reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #mercedes #formula one #f1 #alwayschoppedtaco

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howdoesagrapewrites · 6 months

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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, Aegon II is creepy

Notes: someone told me they were waiting for part 2 🥹 btw I hate the show's timeline as a book reader because it makes absolutely no sense and I can't write properly, halfway through this I literally have decided to throw it away and run with what my heart tells me, otherwise I'll combust

>When your father came back from the war of the stepstones in 115 a.c, newly wed to Laena Velaryon, you didn't think anything was going to change, right?

>You missed the Vale, you didn't like seeing your father and Rhea fighting, but she was so kind, just like your wet nurse, she wasn't here in the castle either

>But there was a lot of new people here, and you liked them all, since they're all your family, it is only natural you'd love them all, they often say they love you too

>When the news of Rhea's death and Daemon's nuptials came, almost arriving together, it sparked a sense of empathy and compassion throughout the red keep

>All of the Targaryens were already too "heedful" with your care, declaring you'd be cared for only by family, and in the extraordinary case no one was around, there was two very meticulously chosen handmaidens who were to watch over you until a family member was available

>This measure was whispered from Otto Hightower to king Viserys, this passed as a safety measure, saying that because of your origins, you were at risk, setting the infamous "princess of Flea Bottom" title as precedent to say you were not welcomed by everyone, and therefore in danger (even if everyone who was even rumoured to be against your stay in the castle, had already been "taken care of"). Of course no one objected

>This reawoke an old rivalry between Rhaenyra and Alicent, old playmates with unspoken grudges, now desperate to prove they could be a better, more adequate influence in your life

>Willfully ignoring your young age, and the fact you'll likely forget half of whatever they say by the time you're ten, what matter is that even when Daemon takes you away, you'll be able to remember one of them with particular fondness

>It was the truth, a hard and bitter truth, that you'd have to eventually leave, everyone looking for excuses to give to Daemon once he arrived, in order to keep you around longer, maybe indefinitely

>Alicent felt uneasy when thinking of stealing you away from your sire, as much as she disliked Daemon, and believed you'd be much better off being raised as hers, along with her children, you clearly loved him, you drew pictures and saved "treasures" to give to him once he returned

>You also used to ask about Rhea, no one had the heart to tell you, but still fearing the crude words your father would use to tell you of her passing, after all, Rhea was still "his bronze bitch". Finally, it was Viserys who had to break the news to you, he was considerate and comforting, even explaining how his parents and former wife passed away as well, and how he still carries them in his heart

>You lacked the proper cognitive development to fully process it, but it made you sad you were never to see Rhea again, this made you even closer to Viserys

>Alicent wondered if there was a possibility of offering one of his son's hands, if that would make you stay, she certainly wouldn't be displeased to have as a daughter in law, Rhaenyra did the same, after all, wasn't the heir to the iron throne a much better match?

>But the day finally came, where you had to leave

>Your father forsook his crown as King of the narrow sea to Viserys, who humorously put the crown on your little head, and named you princess of the narrow sea

>With the crown falling to your forehead due to its size, you hugged your father as soon as you saw him, with giggles and words of affection, as much as it endeared them, it broke everyone's heart to remember how your time in the red keep was nothing but extraordinary. Viserys thanked the seven no one could hear his thoughts, it would be improper for a king to wish for war, just to keep his baby niece around

>This moment created a long string of creative bards singing about Y/N Targaryen, princess of the narrow sea, queen of hearts

>It was finally time for you to go to leave, Laena was ecstatic to take you with her after meeting you for the first time, but she was a smart girl and noticed she was taking away something very precious

>But celebrations had passed and it was time to go

>You lived in Pentos for the next 10 years of your life, with your father, step-mother and little sisters, Rhaena and Baela

>Daemon was not so happy to take you to King's Landing for different events, however, Laena said it was good for you to be around your cousins and nephews, good for the twins as well

>And she said that since you had your own dragon, it's best to just, it'd be better for you to not feel trapped, otherwise one day you'll just get on dragonback and do as you please

>Daemon did not like the idea of you ever leaving or having enough independence to just hop on a dragon and leave, but he understood his wife was right

>When Laena lightheartedly told the prince of Pentos that he must only ask if he wished to marry one of the girls, Daemon grimaced in his classic unsubtle fashion

>You and your sisters were excitedly ogling the new dragon egg that was meant for your sibling

>One night, Rhaena came to your room looking for comfort, she feared her new little brother or sister would have a great dragon like Vhagar, or swift as Moondancer and then she'd be left alone

>You had Dagahrion, and Baela had Moondancer, both dragons were bonded with you since birth, but Rhaena's died shortly after hatching. She was given another egg, that sadly had not even hatched

>According to the dragonkeepers, Dagahrion still needed a little more time before you could safely ride, and Moondancer had a long way to go.

>Dagahrion and Moondancer were polar opposites, where Moondancer was small, slender and agile, with lightly coloured pale sage green scales and pearl horns, Dagahrion was growing larger by the day, heavy and mighty, with black scales that shone like a green tourmaline in the sun, and dark laurel colored horns. The dragons would often play together, and were called "the greyhound and the mastiff"

>Rhaena feared her bond with you would be outshined by the future races and sky stunts you and Baela would share. And when Aemond took Vhagar, it felt even worse

>After Laena's death, you had lost a mother again. You deeply mourned her, but you felt a different kind of sadness watching Rhaenys coddle the girls in the funeral, and Corlys telling Lucerys he'd be the lord of Driftmark. Rhaenys had you on her embrace as well, but the looks on you had brought a bitter truth to your attention, one that was nonexistent in Pentos, and swept under the rug in King's Landing. You were a bastard. The whimsical melodies about the princess of the narrow sea, had made you forget the princess was born illegitimate

>You were now 13, and the stares and whispers your family shielded you from, were words much easier to put together, faces much easier to see

>The lords and ladies gossiped when everyone ran to hug you before the true orphans, you felt guilty

>"Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the coast" said Vaemon. You smiled through the pain

>Your father started laughing to try and shut him up, it worked

>It also pained you to reunite with your beloved playmates, and see Aegon, your azantys, who you admired, now turned into a creep. He hugged you longer than he did with anyone else, but his hands lingered in a way you couldn't enjoy

>Lucerys and Jacaerys were there with you and your sisters, just like you could see the look thrown at you, you could see them being thrown the way of the Velaryon brothers. You didn't talk much, but you enjoyed their company

>Aemond tried to latch onto you and take you to where his family was, but after some time you had to return to your sisters, he didn't like that

>Helaena was just like you remembered her, she was still ever so gentle and had so many things to tell you about her bugs

>But some of her words were now cryptic to you

>"My dear Y/N, dragon in the flesh, do not believe the dragons in thread" she kept repeating, not even looking at you

>You slept in the room that was meant for your father, he hadn't returned yet. You slept in the second bed in that room rather than with the other children, you wanted to cry, but wanted to appear strong for your sisters, so you preferred to be away for the night

>However, the ruckus woke you up, Aemond stole Vhagar, and Lucerys made him lose an eye

>Jacaerys told you about the "hilarious" time they gave Aemond a pig, you silently reprimanded them, you didn't find it funny, but to go and steal Rhaena's last connection to her mother?

>Vhagar was not a heirloom, not a thing, but Rhaena deserved a chance to try to tame her before others did

>You were upset, however tried to stay at Aemond's side, after all, he was the one who lost an eye

>At least until you heard your nephew. "He called us bastards", you looked at him with a sad, disappointed expression before completely (and literally) turning your back on him to go console your sisters

>Rhaena was the most affected, her connection to her late mother, and to her sisters, was stolen by Aemond. In the moment, she feared Aemond would steal you away too, you seemed to be fond of him, and the queen would often tell stories of how close you were with her children. Losing you to Baela was one thing, she was her twin, and you would be within reach, but Aemond?

>Aemond was true to his words when he said gaining a dragon was worth losing an eye

>But he wasn't so sure it was worth losing you

#yandere daemon targaryen #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere targaryens #yandere aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

part i: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the next decade.

Companion series to my sharing the bed one-shot. Follows the relationship between reader&felix from beginning to end. It will be a multi-part series.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: eventual smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending.

One of your father’s disgruntled bodyguards shoves you for walking too slowly. You have enough tenacity to glare at him when you stumble, but even at fourteen years old you are smart enough refrain from retaliation. You know your father will not take your side as you are already in trouble for sneaking out last night. You met with some school friends and attended a house party like a normal fourteen year old, a punishable offence because your life is anything but normal.

You just hope this punishment is a physical one. A few smacks might sting but you’ll get over it, whereas you don’t want to lose your already limited phone or computer privileges.

You walk into your father’s office with the expectation you will be alone, so you stop short when you see the back of a stranger’s head.

Your father’s guests are usually suited old men or pretty young women, not a beanie-wearing teenage boy. He’s kicking his legs like he’s in an ice cream parlour and not in a chair across from one of the most powerful men in the country. Your father is behind his desk, hands steepled and attention determinedly fixed on you. Punishment time is the only time his attention is so rapt.

The door closes behind you, the guard outside slamming it shut. The boy in the chair looks over his shoulder at you. He has a soft face, much too soft for a place like this, his cheeks sweetly freckled and mouth like a pretty pink bow. He has dark eyes, his eyebrows the same shade of dark brown. His hair has been dyed a strawberry blonde, bangs sweeping out from under the beanie. He has to flick them out of his eyes as he looks you over.

You stare at him. A change in routine does not bode well for you and this is a massive change.

The boy just smiles. It is disarming in its sweetness and it petrifies you. You know how to behave when an ugly brute glares at you but a pretty boy smiling is unnerving.

Your father clears his throat. You and the boy both look his way, the boy dropping his gaze in a subservient way while you glare.

“Daughter,” your father says coolly. He gestures to the free chair beside the boy.

Some days, when you are feeling especially petulant or when your father is distracted with his phone even while meting out punishment, you will stomp your foot and refuse him. Maybe it is your stunned bemusement, but today you oblige without argument.

Your gaze drifts to the boy as you approach your seat. The boy does not look at you.

He looks like a normal teenage boy, wearing a hoodie under a flannel and blue jeans ripped at the knee, but you know better. There is always a flaw and this one is immediately jarring: his shoes are army regulation boots, the same as your father’s guards, albeit smaller. You have no idea why he would need them. He looks about your age and is a slender, delicate thing.

“Sit,” your father says. You realize you have standing there, staring. You look at your father and obey, sinking into the other chair. “Good.” Your father folds his hands on his desk. “My loving daughter,” he says dryly, “It has occurred to me that your present circumstances are not the most conducive to your development and well-being.”

You cannot help but scoff. Talk about understatement of the century.

The security teams? The constant surveillance? The knowledge that your wealthy father has accrued so many enemies that you can barely step outside without feeling threatened?

The fact you desperately want something bad to happen, because at least it would be different than the bad in here?

Your father just frowns.

“Don’t test my patience,” he says. “Especially as I have constructed a compromise according to your whims, young lady.”

Your brow furrows. You have no idea where this is going but you know you won’t like it, because you never like it.

“I only want what’s best for you,” your father says. “You’re my daughter, after all. My only child and my only heir. I want you protected but I want you capable, and you can’t be expected to thrive with the company of my men constantly surrounding you.”

Your heart kicks up with hope even while your brain knows better. Your father is not a generous man and he is clever with his words. There is a reason he has reached the heights he has reached. No one is better than your father and your father settles for no less than the best in turn.

You are an agonizing disappointment, but you lash out because you would be a disappointment regardless. Your father does not want a human daughter but a plastic doll that he can lock away until it has use, at which point he expects unending gratitude for your very existence.

This might sound like a concession of freedom but you know him better than that. The vice is tightening, not loosening. You will never be free.

“I have a gift for you,” your father says. “This is Felix.”

You and the boy, Felix, look at each other. Felix smiles again. He has the audacity to wave at you, a little salute and cutesy tip of the head.

Your nostrils flare with a sharp intake of breath. You look at your father.

“What is this?” you ask, so much wrong with this scenario that you don’t know where to start.

Your father smiles for the first time since you walked in the room. He needs to be in the position of highest power and that is obtained through making everyone else small. The more visibly uncomfortable you are, the more at ease he feels. He slouches comfortably in his big chair as he stares you down. You feel trapped in the little seat across his desk.

“This,” your father says, “is your new bodyguard.”

You look at Felix again. He is once more looking at your father like an obedient little puppy. It’s for the best as you are certain your expression is betraying every single thought. You are angry, confused, frightened. The confusion worsens your other emotions.

“Bodyguard,” you repeat. “He looks like he’s twelve.”

“I’m fourteen,” Felix says, startling you with a deep voice that does not remotely match his face. The rounder sounds are accented with an Australian twang. “Same as you.”

You look at each other again. You hide your confusion under a piercing glare. Felix draws his mouth into a flat line, not quite smiling, not quite frowning. He taps his fingers on the arm of the chair, a mismatched rhythm, some song only he can hear. His leg bounces.

You look at your father.

“Fourteen,” you say. “And short. And skinny. Look at him! I could throw him out a window!”

“You could try,” your father says, drole. “You wouldn’t succeed. Oh, hush.” He swipes a hand through the air when you open your mouth to speak again. “Felix is more than competent, believe me.”

Your father would not hire a second rate bodyguard, but there is simply no way this Felix kid is good for anything. You just can’t believe it. This is a test of some kind, maybe a mind game.

Your hackles are up and they won’t come down. Felix flicks some hair out of his eyes and the motion makes you jump. He doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and sits a little straighter, looking like every goody-two-shoes keener you ever gave a sneer.

“You will no longer require a full security detail,” your father says. “Not at home or at school. No where, barring certain occasions under my discretion.”

This has your heart racing again. Currently, your father has guards posted in several places around your school. No one but the school administrators know they are for you, but that doesn’t matter because you know. You know they are not general security, that they are specifically watching your every move. If you skip a meal or eat too much, they know. If you talk to one person and not another, they know. If you forget to do homework or flunk a test, they know. If you put on more make-up or roll up your skirt, they know. If you fall, if you laugh, if you flirt, if you breathe a little too hard, they know, and they report it all back to your father.

It doesn’t end there. They keep you on a schedule for your “protection” and if you stray from that agenda, they are on you. That means no chatting too long after class, no extended bathroom breaks, no stopping to smell a fucking flower. In the car, out the car, through the doors, at your seat, at your locker, upstairs, downstairs, fuck, fuck, fuck. How you’ve lasted this long, not even you know.

You spend all day suffocating under the extension of your father’s eyes, then you return home, flanked by bodyguards, only to be stuck with supervision until you are finally permitted to go to bed. Naturally, this is the easiest time to escape so you are in the habit of breaking out at night. You’re good at it too. Most nights you move without any detection, having memorized all the chinks in the mansion’s high-tech security armor. Last night was the result of some bad luck.

Now you are here, your heart racing, your breath catching.

It must be a trick. You look at Felix then your father, trying to hide your eagerness and your suspicion.

“In exchange, you will have Felix,” your father says. “He will attend school with you as a classmate. He is in all your classes and extra-curriculars. You are to keep him with you at all times of day. He will accompany you everywhere at all times of day.” Your father leans in. “Do you understand that? At all times of day.”

It does not sound too different from the security team other than the obvious fact there is only one of Felix. Even if Felix is the most skilled bodyguard in the world, he is still just one person. It seems too good to be true so it must be. Your father is waiting until you are comfortable so he can rip the rug out from under you, to put you in your place, which is flat on your back like a stupid, helpless, needy baby.

You will not give him the satisfaction. Curtly, you say, “I understand.”

“Good,” your father says. “I’m having a new bed installed in your bedroom as we speak. It should be ample space for two people without your privacy being overly encroached. When you get home, you will clear a space for Felix to move his things into your room.”

Despite your effort to remain neutral, obvious surprise blinks across your face.

“Wait, what?” you ask, darting forward in your seat. “What are you talking about?”

Your father tips his head as if perplexed with your outburst.

“Did you think you were getting away with something?” he asks. “Constantly sneaking out at night, evading my men. Do you know every time you pull a childish stunt like that, it endangers me and my business just as much as you?”

Your anger bubbles to the surface as quickly as his, cold laughter punching out of you as you say, “Oh! Your business! Of fucking course!”

“Don’t use vulgar language with me, child!”

“Don’t call me a child!” you snap back with as much fervour. “I’m fourteen years old! I’m not a little kid and I don’t need some other idiot kid babysitting me! I don’t need anyone fucking watching me!”

Felix is sitting ramrod straight, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and your father. He says nothing. He just sniffs and scratches a little circle on the exposed skin of his knee.

“You are my daughter, this is my house, and I will do with both as I please,” your father says.

“Then maybe I don’t want to be in this house!” you shout.

“You want to leave?” your father asks. He smacks a vicious hand down on his desk, rattling his computer. “Go ahead. Pick yourself up and walk out that door. Where are you going to go from here? You have no money and no skills and no protection. See how long it takes someone to pick you up off the street. You don’t want to be my daughter? You want me to ignore you when they put a gun to your head? The least they will do is kill you, you stupid little thing. But go on, since you’re so wise and brave and all grown-up. Walk out that door. I dare you.”

You sit on the very edge of your seat, your hands balled into fists. You long to swing them at his smug face but you can only sit there, vibrating with rage.

“Do you have something more to say?” your father asks.

You kick his desk, the adrenaline forcing it out of you. He smacks a mug and it smashes on the floor. Felix still does not react, though his gaze does linger on the broken mug.

“What about him!” you shriek, pointing at Felix. It draws his attention back to you, his eyebrow lifting at your pointed finger. “You’re going to leave me alone with a boy? In bed?” You imbue this exclamation with all the suggestive horror you can. “I can’t share a room with a boy! What if he’s a pervert! What if he takes pictures of me! What if he rapes me! You really trust some random boy to be alone with me?!”

The silence that follows is somehow more shrill than the yelling. Your father stares at you, resolutely focussed with such a cold glare that you shiver.

Felix shuffles in his seat. His mouth opens and he looks contemplative, weighing his words, but your father speaks before he can.

“Felix,” he says, “put your hand on the desk.”

Felix delays only seconds, more surprised by the order than reluctant. He obediently rests his hand on the desk, palm facing up.

Without looking away from you, your father grabs that hand and flips it over. Felix jerks, his feet planting, but he manages to restrain whatever instinct rattled him. He looks at his hand, at where your father pins it to the wood.

You look there too, fuming, then you look at your father. He is still glaring at you, even when he reaches into his desk. Your brow furrows when he retrieves an enveloper opener, a sleek little knife, shiny and sharp. He smacks it onto the table beside Felix’s hand. It makes you jump.

Felix just looks at the knife, tipping his head as if only mildly curious.

“Felix,” your father says. “Pick up that knife.” He leans back in his desk chair and crosses his arms, his expression bland and uncaring as he looks at you. You shake less from fury than fear, looking from your father to Felix.

Felix picks up the knife with his free hand. He looks at it, his expression revealing nothing.

“Thank you,” your father says.

He has not looked away from you even once, asserting his knowledge that Felix will obey without his supervision. You try to be as steadfast as him. You act like you couldn’t care less about the unknown boy and his freckles and beanie. This is between you and your father. You glare just as fiercely.

“Now, Felix,” your father says, “I am going to count down from three, then you are going to drive that knife into your hand. All the way through to the desk. I trust you know the spot that will do the least lasting damage.”

Your gaze whips from your father to Felix, staring at him wide-eyed as the stupid boy doesn’t even flinch. He just turns the knife over. His brow briefly pinches as he rests the tip of the knife against a soft spot on the back of his hand.

Your horrified brain is already several paces ahead, picturing his bloodied hand pinned to the wooden desk. You taste bile and it is only partially for the gore. The rest is for the fact Felix does nothing more than blink at his hand.

“Three,” your father says. “Two.”

You scream, “Stop!” at the same your father says, “One.”

You tackle Felix. The adrenaline flies out of you the same as that kick. The knife clatters to the desk and both your chairs fly out from under you.

Felix is fast. He flips you around so he takes the brunt of the fall, your head pillowing on his stomach when you land in a tangled heap on the floor. His beanie falls off when his head hits the ground. He barely winces, looking down at you.

You stare back at him, breathing hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you ask. Tears fill your eyes, much to your horror. You try to suck them in because there is nothing you hate more than crying in front of your father. You don’t even know what is prompting the tears. Maybe it’s the forced recollection of how thoroughly his guards have invaded your life, the revelation that you will be forced to share every living moment with another intruder, or the fact he almost maimed a fourteen year old boy just to make a point.

Or, maybe, the fact you fell for it like you always do. Just a stupid little girl, high in her emotions, vulnerable and weak and in need of intervention.

You push away from Felix, directing all your emotions at him.

“You’re a fucking lunatic,” you say, spitting when you talk. “What did you think you were doing? Freak. Do you think you’re brave? You’re an idiot.”

Felix props himself up on his elbows, just staring back at you. His gaze flicks up when your father stands. That awful man circles the desk to look down at you.

You refuse to look up. You wipe your arm under your nose. Tears blur your vision.

“Felix,” your father says, “there is a car waiting outside. Take my daughter home. She is not to leave the house tonight.”

You wrench your arm away when Felix tries to help you up. He says nothing to your glare but at least he’s smart enough not to smile again. He gets up and dusts off his pants, then retrieves his beanie. You clamber to your feet and march toward the door without looking back or waiting. Only when your hand is on the doorknob does your father call your name.

You freeze, wanting so badly to ignore him and storm outside, but once the coldness settles in your veins you cannot move.

“Come here,” your father says. As if under a spell, you can only move when he demands it. You turn, facing him as he approaches. You hold still, your eyes full of tears and fists curled at your side.

Your father walks up and swiftly strikes you across the face. Tears spill over and you grab your cheek, heaving with frightened breath as your useless new bodyguard just stands there and watches.

Your father sighs.

“You’ll learn,” he says. “One way or another. If I have to chip at you with an axe until you take my shape, I’ll do it. You’ll thank me one day. Felix. Take her home. Now.”

You let Felix take your arm and guide you out of the room, too drained to fight him.

You refuse to be accommodating. If you’re unhappy then you will make Felix unhappy too, and if Felix is unhappy then maybe he will leave. Then your father will be unhappy and you finally won’t be.

You glare at the massive new bed taking up space in your room. It is still a big room otherwise, with plenty of space for two people, but your things are spread out everywhere and you have no intention of moving them. Instead, you empty out a single bedside drawer and point to it.

“There,” you say. “That’s yours.”

Felix is standing in the bedroom doorway wearing a backpack. He looks around the room, not sneering at its lacey, ivory princess-ness but not looking too enamoured either. He is passive as ever, quietly receiving his surroundings. He closes the door behind himself and shrugs the backpack down to the crease of his elbow.

“Kk,” he says. He puts his backpack on the floor by the bed then takes off his beanie and puts it in the drawer. He sits on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap. He stares at the wall.

What a weirdo.

You stare at him until he looks at you, then you scoff and roll your eyes. You dump your things on your desk and stalk over to your private bathroom door.

“Can I go pee without your supervision, or do you need to hold my hand?” you ask sarcastically.

“I don’t need to,” Felix says, “but, uhhh, I guess I can if you need help. But if you have a problem with doing it by yourself then we should probably take you to a doctor. I know first aid but I can’t really help with incontinence or like the opposite. Lol.”

He says the word lol out loud, a single grating syllable. You do not dignify his weird humour with a response. You stomp into your bathroom and slam the door shut.

There are bars on the bathroom window now. You grab the nearest bottle of soap and chuck it there, furious when tears spring back to your eyes. You feel violated even in your privacy, glaring at those bars as you shower and wash away the day.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, touching where your cheek feels tender from your father’s strike. He usually doesn’t hit your face or anywhere someone could see swelling or a cut. You suppose today’s slap was more personal than strategic.

You put on a thick sweatshirt and sweatpants. When you step back into your room, the weirdo is standing at the window with his hands behind his back. He is wearing just his ripped jeans and a t-shirt, plus those ugly army boots. He looks at you when you open the door, giving you a brief assessing stare before he smiles.

It would disarm someone more naïve. You just glare.

“Where are your things?” you ask.

He tips his head like an inquisitive cat. “Huh?” he asks.

“Your things,” you say venomously. “Aren’t you moving them in here?”

“Uh, I did,” he says. He turns and points to his side of the bed. “You gave me a drawer, remember?”

This kid unpacked a beanie.

Maybe it’s a good sign he isn’t fully moving in. Maybe this whole charade is just your father threatening you. He will torture you with this invader until he thinks you have learned a lesson, then things will go back to normal. Felix probably isn’t even a proper bodyguard, and how could he be? A skinny, pretty fourteen year old boy? He’s probably an actor or model or something.

You give him a derisive smirk and shove past him. He just shrugs and approaches the bathroom door, pausing before entering. He looks back at you.

“Don’t go anywhere, yeah?” he says, then walks into the bathroom and closes the door.

You exhale sharply. You had no intention of going anywhere, honestly too exhausted to do anything but putter around on the computer, but fuck this kid. He’s your father’s paid actor or some other nonsense, so who does he think he is to give you any orders?

You storm out of the room with the intention of marching around outside, but you stumble when you enter the upstairs corridor.

The huge house is eery in its silence. You shudder as you look around.

Even when your father is not home, the security team is here. Someone is always awake, at least one person keeping guard in the corridor, the rest of them scattered in the house and guest house. But they’re gone. They’re all genuinely gone. And because it is late evening, all the housekeepers and cleaners are gone too. You have not been in a house this empty your entire life. It feels uncanny, ghostly even. It completely halts your half-baked plan to leave, not that you planned on going much further than the pool-house.

You stand still, suspended in the unfamiliar emptiness.

“Whatcha doin’?” Felix’s freaky deep voice is suddenly right beside you. You jump away from with a startled squeak. He just stands there, his mouth in that stupid flat line, his shaggy blonde hair bouncing when he tips his head.

“Nothing,” you snap, annoyed that he scared you. “I’m just going to the kitchen for a snack. Is that against the fucking law now?”

“It’s not really healthy to eat this late at night,” Felix says, “but it’s not illegal. That would be weird.”

“I hate you,” you say. His even temperament has been driving you insane, so it is satisfying to see a flicker of genuine surprise on his face. “Just leave me alone.”

“Sorry,” he says, recovering quickly. His voice is steady. “Can’t do that. Sort of my job, you know?”

You roll your eyes then turn and stomp all the way down the stairs. Felix trails behind you without protest, not making much noise despite the boots but he is impossible to ignore regardless.

You go to the kitchen and open the fridge. You aren’t hungry but you feel like you have to eat something now just to prove a point.

Felix ambles up to the counter and perches himself on a stool. You look over your shoulder at him. He waves.

“I’m not making you anything,” you snap.

“That’s fine.” He folds his hand on the counter. “I’m not hungry. Thank you.”

You reach into the fridge and grab an eggplant out of the produce drawer. It is a ridiculous response, but you decide to out-weird the weirdo, making eye contact as you bite in the raw eggplant. You try to hide your displeasure, chewing the thick vegetable slowly. Felix tips his head very far then straightens. His eyes narrow.

“I’m pretty sure that’s toxic,” he says.

You stop chewing.

“Yeah,” he says. “Eggplant, yeah. I think when it’s raw it’s like not good for you or something? I think there’s like a chemical in it. Maybe it’s only if you eat a lot of it, uhhh, I don’t know. Just in case, I wouldn’t eat it like that if I were you.”

You stare at him with a chunk of raw eggplant still on your tongue. He could be bluffing. He could be playing mind games. He could be telling the truth, since he delivered each sentence so uncertainly. Maybe he’s just bad at mind games. You’re good at them. You’ve been playing them since you were a child, so you just stare him down, swallow the eggplant, then take another bite.

His brow furrows. You are pretty sure your displeasure is a little more obvious now, your mouth partially open as you chew. Felix did not balk at stabbing his own hand but he looks very scandalized right now. You consider it a success.

“Stop it,” Felix says.

You take another bite, ripping into it with a ferocious tear.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “What? Are you trying to commit suicide by eggplant?”

You just shrug, chewing with your mouth wide open now. His stool scrapes the ground and you brace yourself, shuffling in the opposite direction when he circles the kitchen island.

“Spit it out,” he says.

“No,” you say, spitting eggplant as you say it. You very nearly choke.

“Seriously,” Felix says. “This isn’t funny.”

You chew obnoxiously big in his direction and he pounces, smoothly intercepting your escape. He cages you in against the counter, blocking you when you try to move. You drop the rest of the eggplant and push at him, dribbling mushy vegetable and cursing through your mouthful.

“Spit. It. Out,” he says, putting his hand under your mouth like a mother to a baby. You shove that hand away, then try to shove his face away. He clearly doesn’t want to get too physical with you, but eventually he grabs your chin and holds you still, your face pinched in his hand. You stare at him, breathing hard through your nose. “Stop it,” he says.

The house is empty. The house is genuinely, seriously, completely empty. Your father trusts Felix that much.

Who is this fucking kid?

You spit the eggplant at him. It spatters on his shirt and wins you an eye roll. It’s the first expression from him to make you smile.

“Bed time,” he says, stepping back to brush the mess off his shirt.

You cross your arms and lean against the counter. “No,” you say.

“No?” he asks. His deep voice fractures with a higher-pitched sound of surprise. “Why not?”

Because you hate your father and everything he puts you through. Because petty victories are your only victories. Because there is something seriously wrong with Felix if this is his life situation, and there is something seriously wrong with you for the same reason.

So you shrug. “Make me,” you say.

There is a beat of silence.

Then the world is upside down because Felix picks you up and slings you over his shoulder. You cry out, slapping his back as he marches to the stairs. Where is he even hiding this strength?

“Put me down!” You pound on his backside while he carries you up the stairs. “When my father hears about this—”

He puts you down on the landing, swinging up a step to afford him an extra foot of height over you. He holds your wrist in his hand and looks at you very seriously.

“What?” he asks. “When he hears about me doing my job?”

You try to tug your hand back but Felix holds it tight.

“Are you serious right now?” you ask. You continue to squirm your hand in his grip. “Who the fuck are you? What do you even get out of this?”

“What do you get out of this - this - everything?” he asks.

“I get my life,” you snap. “In pieces and only for a little bit, but mine.”

“Me too,” he says.

A breathless silence follows. You realize you are holding his hand, having twisted and turned so much that he clasped your fingers with his. You both look there then at each other. You abruptly let go.

“Can we go to bed?” Felix asks, softening his voice. “Please.”

Your lower lip wobbles. You look at the stain on his shirt. You think about his hand on that desk.

“And what about my other question?” you ask.

He tips his head again, but his expression is no longer neutral. He wears his confusion openly, briefly but substantially.

“What?” he asks.

“My other question,” you say, blinking back your tears. “Who are you?”

“You tell me first,” he says. “Who are you?”

It’s easier to fight and scream than plainly express yourself. No one ever listens, so you are not practiced. You have Felix’s undivided attention but it suddenly feels like too much. You do not have it in you to glare anymore. You meet his pained gaze with your own and join him on the next step.

“I’m tired,” you say. “Let’s go to bed.”

He goes to check the security system while you get ready for bed. You are already nestled under the covers, shivering despite the thick layers because the house sounds so quiet and you are honestly scared. You jump when the door opens and Felix enters, your eyes meeting in the dim light. He looks away first, going about his own routine. You turn your back to him.

The bed is big but you still feel it dip when he gets inside. You look over your shoulder. He is laying on his back with his eyes closed. He is clearly still awake but the semblance of sleep accentuates the natural innocence of his face. You have seen the flicker of a few deeper emotions, none of them childish, but he looks his age while laying there.

His eyes open. He glances at you. You wonder what you look like to him.

“Good night,” he says, shattering the terrifying silence.

You don’t argue it. You just nod then turn away, closing your eyes, letting the sound of his breathing lull you to sleep faster than usual.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #bodyguard au

1K notes · View notes

simplyreveries · 4 months

Note

I noticed that you opened the requests. I wanted to ask related to staff (separated) with mc/yuu who had daddy issues in their world and who sees them as a father figure

i love this sm,,,, TY<3

dire crowley

he is…. interesting- he does mean well but he just does a poor job executing that sometimes. he was never expecting to feel such a sense of protectiveness and being overly doting to you. it started when he couldn't help but feel pity for your own situation and watching you adjust to this world is tough.

you’ll find him randomly popping up out of nowhere in school and he’ll ask how you’re doing. a way as a check up on how you’re handling this world and school life so far, he’d tell you if you ask him. as soon as you ask him about home… "oh! is someone is calling me?" and just literally disappears.

In this case, I feel like his reluctance to figure out a way to bring you home stems from the fact that he really does care for you and doesn't want to lose that. so, let's just say, it'll take him awhile to figure that out. crowley seems to be trying to convince you how amazing, twisted wonderland really is! you could thrive and live so happily here! (minus the overblots… terrifying magic… creatures and more) he tells you how great it is for you already have a home, a whole dorm for yourself, as he’d say: “for i am so gracious!” that he’s done such a generous thing for you.

the first time you tried to give him a hug as thanks for something he was completely confused and didn't know how to react. he laughed and gave you the awkward pat on the back but once again, he means well i promise.

divus crewel

you have blatant favoritism from him… he seems a little less strict with you and if a student asks he’ll deny and tell them he doesn't do that or that he has to be since you’re not even from this world. he wouldn't expect you to know how to do certain things after all.

but still, ace and grim could groan because they got in trouble for forgetting homework or assignments but if you did he’d sigh and be like “bring it in tomorrow” and they are always so UPSET. it's also rare to get some compliments from him, but he seems to point out something well you did and give you a little “good improvement” and such. It's so obvious how he seems to care for you.

divus is literally the epitome of judgment when it comes to anyone having eyes for you or you tell him about even liking someone yourself… he is too protective and feels like any boy at this school is undeserving of you. he sees any attempt during class of one of them flirting or anything as them simply bothering you. If you mention someone like floyd he’d give you the most concerned look and be like “oh… him, how troublesome”. he doesn't really say what he thinks, unless you really ask for his opinion. he more so listens to you talk and he does genuinely try to give you some advice, even if it's a bit blunt.

mozus trein

now despite his strict and sternness, he can be a very calming person to be around and talk to. he will be pretty quiet, but he can become someone you just find if you need to talk as he listens and grades assignments, doing some work. if you really need to take your mind of certain worries and stresses, like finding a way back to your world- he'll offer you some tea and maybe even offer to play a game of chess with you (as he does with divus sometimes!)

trein is a father himself, he was very close to his daughters- so it actually is quite easy for him out of all of the staff members to develop a familial like relationship with. he enjoys having that feeling of looking after someone again and being someone, you could look up to in that sense. he would eventually notice that you do see him in such a way, he wouldn't say it, but it does warm his heart.

he'll let you play and pet lucius, it's just part of your special privileges. surprisingly, the cat likes you and always tries rubbing against you. since trein trusts you though, you will be given the duty to buy lucius cat toys from sams shop with money he gives you, he says its "in compensation" haha.

if you happen to be causing trouble with grim or some student in class, he'll scold you. but through it, he will remind and tell you he knows you're a good kid and doesn't want other bothersome students tarnishing your potential.

ashton vargas

oh poor you if you dread fitness or sports because he's always booming so loud, excited and pumped to get you involved more. even if you don't want to do something with others, he loves initiating one on one games with you and challenging you. he will not go easy though and laughs proudly whenever he wins. he'll still pat you on the back and tell you "nice job, kid!" or something of that sort. he's very supportive even if hes overly competitive at times.

sometimes you do have to hear his tangents on how he became so fit and strong... especially his "advice" on how great it is to consume raw eggs... this guy . he tries telling you it'd benefit you.

lowkey makes a big deal if you got hurt and needed to go to the infirmary. he always tries to keep a special eye on you in case and tries his absolute best to make sure you're alright. even after getting help, you needed from the nurse, still!!

sam

he tends to keep a watchful eye on you... he would much prefer and even offer, saying you'd be perfect to be working beside him at his shop. he wouldn't want you resorting or going somewhere like the mostro lounge really. but other than that, he is a very carefree guy who you could easily find yourself talking to about problems or issues you're having. his attitude and approach to things can be a good help.

also, if you're in general in need of something from his store, because you're extra special to him he'll sometimes just give you heavily discounted or even be like take it, ("it wasn't selling anyways"). hehe. he cares. especially when it comes to like snacks or food he'll have, he'll claim it's your "employee benefits!" if you're working there.

sam is pretty much in the loop with anything interesting happening at school or things he may have overheard from students. you can easily get gossip out of him, just saying. but sometimes that just turns him into trying to discreetly warn you about certain students at nrc.

#twst #disney twst #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #dire crowley #crowley twst #divus #divus crewel #mozus trein #trein #sam twst #ashton vargas #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twst hcs #twisted wonderland hcs

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Mrs Bridgerton

Mrs Bridgerton Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Your ex-husband craves you in a way you had no idea about until one fateful call...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, explicit language and thoughts, dirty talk, sexting, sex tape, masturbation, pregnancy kink, smidge of breeding kink. Mentions of marriage, divorce, pregnancy, custody, parenting, heartbreak, emotions. Bit angsty maybe? Not sure.

Word Count: 4.3k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill from January here. (tldr summary: ex-husband Benedict can't stop thinking about you) Nonny, I changed up a couple of details of your ask; the porn he watches is your old sex tapes from when you were married. Also, he doesn't call once he was spent; he accidentally calls very much in the act ;) I hope that is okay. Guys, I have no idea what this is; sorry. Thanks to @colettebronte for checking I haven't completely lost it and @eleanor-bradstreet for the gif used above. <3

“Mrs Bridgerton!.... Mrs Bridgerton!” A teacher calls out across the playing field as she jogs towards you. It takes you a few seconds to realise she is indeed addressing you. It's been a couple of years since you went by that name—almost a ghost from the past at this point.

“Ah, actually, it’s Ms y/l/n now,” you correct as she draws closer. “I’m, well, I’m divorced from Emilia’s dad,” you explain somewhat apologetically.

“Oh, I am so very sorry! I'm new here. I just asked her if her parents were here, and she pointed you out.”

“No, no, it’s okay. It's an entirely fair assumption to make,” you placate, shielding your eyes from the sun to catch Emilia's gaze and give her the thumbs up at the end of the grassy running track.

“Well, I just need one of you to sign this permission form for the trip to the Science Museum next week,” the teacher states, thrusting a clipboard towards you.

“Oh certainly, no problem,” you assure, taking the proffered pen and signing on the dotted line she indicates. You know how excited Emilia is about that upcoming trip, even though she insists on going to the museum with you or her father at least once every few months.

“Wonderful, thank you.”

You just nod as another teacher brings them all to the starting line with a blast from their whistle, and your focus shifts entirely to cheering on your five-year-old daughter in her first school race.

-----

He knows you haven't seen him, and he doubts even Emilia has clocked him, wearing a baseball cap pulled low as he is. He deliberately keeps a low profile when you arrive. He is here to see Emilia on her first sports day. Only that. Or so he keeps telling himself.

But then he sees you, and something in his stomach knots hard. It’s been more than two years, and still, every time, it floors him. A few months after your split, he took to using Eloise as the go-between for your shared custody arrangements and has never stopped. Since then, he has not seen you in person, too cowardly to face you. His biggest mistake was letting you go.

You met in your late twenties at a party hosted by mutual friends, and that night, he knew his life would never be the same. Something about the connection was instant and electric. He had the best sex of his life, right there in a spare room of a party. Both drunk and foolish, you didn't use protection. So it was only a few weeks into your burgeoning relationship when you found yourselves staring dumbfounded at a blue and white stick that would alter your lives forever. You married quietly two months later at the town hall, with just a few family members and close friends attending, neither of you wanting a big fuss. It was a big gamble in many ways, but you were both willing to try, crazily in love and filled with a youthful optimism that can be so blinding.

All was well until parenting a newborn drove you both to exhaustion and beyond. A wedge grew between you, even as your beautiful daughter developed into the best miniature version of both of you, with his beauty and your brains. You tried to make it work. But bickering about petty things and distancing became the only constant in your dynamic. Part of him had hoped Emilia would be enough glue to hold you together, but it was too much to pin on a small child. Just after her third birthday, he watched his world crumble as you tearfully packed up your possessions and took the light from his life with you.

And now. Now it's a regret that haunts him every day. Replaying the mistakes he made over and over, the ones that meant you slipped through his fingers. Too preoccupied with his career frustrations and plagued by chronic lack of sleep to realise the damage before it was irreparable. He knows now, too late, that with a little more effort and compromise, perhaps you would still be together as a family. He certainly never stopped loving and desiring you.

So when the teacher calls out Mrs Bridgerton, his heart almost stops beating and, to his shame, there is a stirring in his jeans. God, he wishes that was still your name, so much so there is a bitter taste in his mouth as he watches you correct the teacher in an endearingly accommodating way. A large part of him wants to leap up and grab you, lift you into his arms, beg that you use the name again. His name. But he doesn't; he just lingers in melancholic reverie, recalling with perfect clarity how it felt to push the white gold band shakily onto your left hand as you recited your vows.

Then with a sharp nearby whistle blow signifying the race start, his focus is pulled back to why he is here. His little wonder, the centre of his universe. Emilia Bridgerton. The most beautiful person on the planet.

“Go, Emilia!!” he shouts, transfixed as his little girl moves out ahead of the pack, unthinking of anything but supporting his baby girl.

-----

Your head cuts to the side, and you freeze. You would recognise that voice anywhere. And how many Emilia’s can there be in the race?

He's not looking at you; his whole focus is on the field, but you can't seem to look away. Not even to watch your precious daughter. You haven't seen your ex-husband in more than two years. Using his sister as a go-between just seems like the best way to deal with your residual guilt about leaving him. But now? One look and your insides feel like you are falling down a chasm, lungs suddenly too small for the breaths you need to take.

Time seems to slow like molasses as you observe him. He’s wearing a baseball cap, almost akin to a disguise, but you can see underneath it that profile that still makes your heart flutter. Too much, really, considering you are exes. But his beauty was never the problem; it was part of the reason you always stayed. Those soulful eyes would draw you back every time. Those eyes that now haunt you daily, the Bridgerton genes far too strong not to override all of yours. Emilia is the prettiest little female version of your ex-husband you could ever imagine, and it's both your greatest joy and your greatest pain point, living with a growing reminder of the person who still owns your heart regardless of how much you might wish otherwise.

Looking back now, leaving him was an impetuous decision made from a place of utter exhaustion, not able to see a way out of the treadmill your lives had become at that time. But pride stopped you from admitting perhaps you made a mistake, serving divorce papers before you could think too hard about it. He didn't contest and agreed to all of your terms of custody without a fight. You didn't ask for spousal support; you earned more from employment anyway, most of his income coming from his trust. You never loved him for the Bridgerton name or fortune; in fact, sometimes, it felt like you loved him in spite of it.

And now, one look at him, and you are breathless and in a complete emotional and, yes, physical quagmire. Your body yearning for him, your traitorous brain supplying image after tumbling image of intimacy, the likes of which you have never known before or since—warm bodies wrapped around each other in ecstasy, that velvet voice pleading with you to come with him, for him, always so eager. It makes your chest heave so hard you have to look away to regain composure, doing so just in time for the universe to seemingly return to normal speed, as you watch Emilia cross the line, victorious in her first-ever race.

You cannot help it; you leap up and cheer too. And she looks over, beaming and jumping up and down. Running towards you and throwing herself into your arms as you kneel with a huge grin.

“Mummy mummy mummy!!” she peals excitedly, her breath gusting hard into your ear. “I did it! I won!”

“I know; well done!” you exclaim, rocking her happily in your arms. “You did wonderfully!!!”

“Did I see Daddy?” she asks, craning over your shoulder. You tense and swivel yourself to follow her eye line, but where he was standing just moments ago, there is now just an empty patch of grass.

“Oh, I don't think so, my love; it was probably someone else’s daddy who looks similar,” you suggest, the lie feeling odd on your tongue, It's obvious he doesn't want to be seen, and a part of you is grateful to avoid an awkward meeting. Emilia is still scanning the crowd, unconvinced by your assertion. “How about an ice cream from the van over there?” you offer cheerily, wanting to distract her from looking too hard for him.

“Okay!” she chimes happily, squirrelling a warm little hand into yours and pulling you towards the pedestrian gate.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy a navy blue Jaguar pulling out of the other gate and know without a doubt it was him.

-----

He couldn't do it. He thought he could, but he feels the weight of your stare and has to leave. The minute Emilia crosses the line, he gives a little victory punch and takes off. Not able to face you. So much of him wants to, but the gutless part of him apparently resides in his leg muscles. Before he knows it, he is in his car and pulling out onto the West London streets, not daring to look back. It's not his day to pick up Emilia; that's still two days away. He would not want you angry for overstepping the agreement you have in place.

As he pulls up at a traffic light, his phone pings a match on the dating app Anthony bullied him into downloading last week. The temptation to fling his phone right out the window is strong. The idea of being with someone else, especially after the tumult of seeing you today, just feels wrong.

The only person he has slept with since your divorce was the second biggest mistake of his life. Someone he met at a bar celebrating Colin’s last birthday after too many whiskeys. A close enough facsimile to you that, through the haze of alcohol, he let himself be seduced. The lizard part of his brain somehow convinced it was you, even as she rode him in a way that chafed. Nothing like the way you moved, positively undulated, on his cock. Regret clung to his skin, the fug of hangover already kicking in as he watched her wordlessly re-dress and leave almost immediately, never exchanging numbers. He never saw her again. The fact he called your name as he came was probably the majority of the problem.

The only thing that stops him from flinging the phone is all the history it contains. Pictures of Emilia growing up from a tiny infant to now. But also his text exchanges with you, that increasingly he finds himself scrolling back through on self-indulgent nights, back to when things were good, and you would send each other little notes of love interspersed with sexting that; even now, he can barely read without getting hard. Unable to resist, as he waits for the light to go green, a dozen or more quick thumb flicks upwards on the thread for your previous number, and he finds some of his guilty pleasures.

8 March, 3:25 pm

Y/N: You had better plough me over the kitchen table when you get home xoxox

4 April, 5:02 pm

BB: Tough work day, need you, babe

Y/N: How’s this, daddy?

Y/N: [photo of your naked glowing, slightly rounded pregnant body]

BB: Fucking helllllll, I am one lucky man

Y/N: Come home, fuck me, daddy

BB: You need to stop calling me that…

Y/N: Why? I am literally pregnant with your child.

BB: Yeah, and that’s why it's so wrong…

Y/N: Just get here, pls. I am so fucking wet….

He is pinch-zooming on the photo, head tilted, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth… when a car horn makes him jump, the phone slipping from his grip and falling onto his emergent hard-on.

The traffic light has turned green.

With an apologetic nod in the rearview mirror, he drives off, shaking his head, knowing it’s probably very wrong to be looking at pictures of you, his ex-wife, and wanting to fuck you so bad that his foot leans heavily on the accelerator. His blood pumping hard, already knowing he will be taking himself in hand the minute he gets to his place.

-----

Emilia is happily smushing the cone of her 99 ice cream in her little fist as you walk the few streets to your sister's place, where you left your car earlier. She has kindly agreed to let Emilia stay tonight and have a sleepover with her cousins.

Later, you have your first date since your divorce, and you’ll probably need the rest of the late afternoon to psych yourself up enough to go. You've already cried off so many matchmaking attempts that you had to say yes eventually, just to stop the incessant badgering from all angles. Strangely, this one is Eloise’s doing, and you are still slightly weirded out that your ex-husband’s sister is engineering your first date in more than seven years.

Waving goodbye a few minutes later, you slip into your car and sit for a few deep calming inhales, trying not to think of how much Benedict stole your breath earlier. Some part of you thinks maybe you just imagined him there, a fevered mirage, your subconscious telling you to cancel this stupid date idea and stay home with your two best friends, Ben and Jerry. But then Ameila seemed to think he was there too, and honestly, it feels like you don't know what to do about anything anymore.

-----

He wastes no time, flinging aside the cap, tossing his car keys onto the hallway table and sprinting upstairs to his bedroom, only pausing to insert his noise-cancelling earbuds and discard his clothing.

He is already leaking a little when he throws himself onto the bed and fists his cock with a groan. His other hand is hovering over the play button on the video he definitely knows he shouldn't be watching, hidden in a nondescript folder.

Your soft giggle tickles his eardrums as the video jolts to life. It's one he shot of you on his phone on your honeymoon—it’s one of his favourites lately.

“Bennnnn,” your voice a teasing murmur as the screen fills with a glimpse of your breasts, his hand trying to take a sweeping shot of your body as you writhe underneath him, both of you buried in a soft glow under a tent of sheets wrapped around your bodies.

His own younger self chuckles loud in his ears, behind the camera as he is, both of your breaths loud as the movement becomes more pronounced.

This is him fucking you and filming it. The camera pans down, and there, almost too tough to see in the grainy low light, is his cock surging into you; the shot is never still enough to see in full detail.

Somehow the lack of clarity makes it more of a turn-on. Benedict whines low as his hand moves in a firm motion, jerking hard, losing himself in reminiscence of what it is like to be buried inside you, your scent, younger you panting hard, pleading quietly for him.

His hand speeds up, and he gasps as the video grows more urgent, the noises so loud right in his ear. He can hear the delicious sound of your wet cunt around his shaft, and it's like a sense memory, that viscous heated cling he can never forget.

“Ben, oh god Ben, you are so good, fuck me harder,” younger you moans loudly on the video, and both Benedicts, the old and new, couldn't resist that siren call.

“Y/n, oh god, give me your all, y/n,” Benedict growls, screwing his eyes shut, just relying on the auditory experience of the video now.

But not realising with his slurred speech; it's just given his phone a command…

-----

You are driving towards your place when your hands-free car display lights up with the last name you expect.

Benedict.

Your stomach plunges. Just like earlier when you found yourself staring at him and reimagining so many things you know you shouldn't. You reach over and click the little green button to connect the call, heart in your mouth.

“Ben?” you say his name softly, almost timid. Worried about what it might mean after that strange non-encounter less than an hour ago.

The noise that greets you makes every hair stand on end. It's a throaty groan. He seems to hiss your name, and all you do is frown as your car speakers vibrate with the sound.

“Ben, are you okay?” you check.

“Oh god, I am more than okay, baby,” he growls, and every inch of your body is rioting. “Just please, please don't stop, fuck you feel so good. So tight and hot. I want to live inside you,” the words panted, desperate.

Your foot slips hard on the pedal, and you almost crash into a damn tree.

-----

Your voice sounds different in his ear, and there is a background hum that wasn't there before, but he is so close to something so intoxicating he doesn't think to open his eyes and check the video.

“Talk to me,” he pleads low, knowing you on the video won't respond but somehow still wanting to talk to you regardless, “tell me how you feel.”

There is silence and then a slight shaky exhale.

“Ben.”

“Yes, yes, yes, say my name,” he pleads, leaking over his own knuckle as his hand becomes a frenzy on his cock.

-----

You pull over, quaking. There is only one reason he uses that tone. That's his bedroom voice, and fuck if it doesn't make you as weak now as it did back then. You can only assume his phone has accidentally dialled you while he is what? Masturbating? You flush so hotly at the very thought, and yet you can’t school what you say next. Your treacherous libido taking command of your lips.

“Are you touching yourself for me, Ben?” you breathe, and your clothing suddenly feels too tight, too hot.

Your speakers vibrate your seat as he groans loud and lewdly, and it's a beeline straight for your clit, now throbbing insistently against your car seat.

“Yes baby,” he moans and now, in the background, you can hear it, a slight slapping sound, his cock passing through his fist.

Your pussy clenches instinctually, and you feel a heavy pull, a depth charge of lust. Your lips tingle with the thought of kissing him, running your mouth over his body, wrapping around that cock you remember so well.

“I want you to come for me, Ben,” you plead, a hand straying down between your thighs, scarcely believing what is happening, what you are doing so brazen, parked up on the street mid-afternoon on a Wednesday.

“I will; oh god, I'm going to come so hard,” he snarls. “Do you want it inside you?”

Your fingers glance your clit over your yoga pants, and the heat is overwhelming. “Yes, Ben,” you pant, “inside me, give it to me, give me more of your beautiful babies.”

What you are saying is taboo. And so truthful you don't think to censor it. You would bear as many children as he wants to fuck into you. Still, even now.

“But you are already pregnant with my baby darling,” his voice taking on a softer edge, more wistful, “and you look so, so beautiful.”

You freeze.

“Benedict?” you say quietly.

“Yes, my love,” he purrs.

“Who do you think you are speaking to?” your ask is awkward, screwing your eyes shut, your hand moving away from the apex of your thighs. Suddenly mortified, perhaps it's not you that he thinks he is speaking to after all. Oh shit, did he get someone else pregnant? The panicked bile rises until he sighs the following words.

“Y/n, my wife, my life. God, I miss you so much. I know this must be a fever dream; I know we didn't talk like this in the video, but fuck if it doesn't sound so real,” he ends so wistfully.

“What video?” your question is slow, a weird weight on your chest that is your heart pounding out of control.

“Our honeymoon, darling,” he moans, and you can hear he is still masturbating, although slower-paced now. “When you let me video us fucking. I watch it so much these days that I'm surprised it's not worn out. And yet I can't not; every time I fuck my fist, it's to you.”

“You watch us? Every time you…?” your hand clutching your chest now.

“Yes, my love. I miss you so so much. I should never have let you go. You are my angel, the love of my life, the mother of my child and the only person I ever, ever want to fuck.”

The confession knocks your whole world off its axis. And you crave him. The feeling is so utterly all-consuming you struggle to take your next breath. You have to go to him. You have to see him. It's not even a choice not to. Every fibre of your being needs him.

“Ben,” you murmur, “don't come for me yet; I want to fuck you.”

“You do?” the hope in that gasp makes you lightheaded.

“Yes,” you breathe, “I miss your cock so much.”

You scramble to throw the car into gear and pull out into traffic. You are about a minute's drive away or less if he is home. Something in your movements so very urgent.

“Tell me what you are doing,” you whisper, trying your best to pitch the ask just the right level of seductive as you race down the road, turning into his street.

“I’m fucking my fist,” he moans, “but I wish it were you, my love.”

“I'm almost there,” you pant, pulling into his driveway with almost a squeal of tyres. You grab your phone and jump out of your car, crushing the handset to your ear as you run up to his front door and punch in a code, hoping it's still the one he uses. The crest of victory is palpable as the lock beeps and relents, the door popping open.

“Keep stroking yourself gently,” you order as you close the door and start to disrobe as you bound up the stairs.

“Y/n…” his voice is suddenly tremulant “this…. This isn't a dream, is it?”

“No, Ben, it's not,” you breathe, and you are down to your underwear as you skid into his bedroom, panting.

His eyes are wide with shock as you stride across the room, his cock still in hand and utterly naked; he looks just as delicious as the day you married him.

“Hello, Mr Bridgerton,” you purr.

“Y/n,” he stutters, and it's everything—surprise, desire, hope, relief, yearning and ardent.

“Call me Mrs Bridgerton,” you shoot back, and the responding noise he makes is so utterly feral you almost orgasm without so much as touching him.

-----

Eight months later

“Emilia, not there,” Benedict chuckles good-naturedly.

“Then where daddy?” her pout turns epic as she hands the offending item to him. “You do it!” she huffs.

“Okay, hold still,” he laughs and slides the small tiara into her hair. “See? Just perfect,” he opines, dropping a kiss onto her chestnut tresses.

“I look like a princess!” Emilia exclaims proudly, twisting to look into the mirror.

“Yes, you do,” Benedict concurs. “A pretty princess bridesmaid.”

“The prettiest,” you agree from the doorway, and both heads turn around and greet you with mouths that gape open.

“Oh, Mummy, you look like a real princess!” Emilia gasps, running towards you and giving you a quick hug before skipping out of the room gleefully as her grandmother Violet calls her name from downstairs.

“You look breathtaking,” his tone full of wonderment as he slowly gets to his feet, his eyes never leaving you. “But isn't it bad luck for me to see you like this?” he adds with a flash of concern.

You move towards him, and him towards you, drawn together. “I think we’ve had all the bad luck we are going to have,” you smirk, very much enjoying the sight of him in a sharp, custom-tailored suit. “At least I hope so, seeing as we have this thing to deal with,” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to your five-month bump.

“Thing? Darling, I thought we agreed; his name is Henry,” he sighs in mock indignation, his large hands skating around the swell of your belly, his lips warm on your temple.

“When did I agree to that name?” you frown amiably.

“Last night,” he responds silkily, right into your ear now.

“Oh no, you can’t possibly hold me to that,” you decry. “Anything said when inside me is null and void, Mr Bridgerton; you know I can barely remember my own name at that point.”

His rich chuckle vibrates against your whole body. “Well, let me remind you….”

“I’m listening,” you sigh, eyes closing as you sway into his hot neck kisses.

“It's Mrs Bridgerton,” he rumbles. “Or it will be again in about an hour.”

“I can't wait”, you whisper. “Say it again.”

“Mrs Bridgerton,” A dark, slow tease.

You are almost late for your own (second) wedding just downstairs.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus

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1K notes · View notes

bsd-elle · 1 year

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Thoughts on Buddy Daddies Episode 9

I have so many thoughts about this episode and it all stems from P.A works' fantastic SUBTLE writing choices.

This episode, on paper, sounds like a pretty cliche sports day episode, but they somehow managed to show us the character progression and the relationship progression between the characters.

The biggest progress we can blatantly see is Rei taking an effort to help Kazuki more.

And we can see that Kazuki reacts accordingly.

Kazuki is surprised by this development, and voices his concern.

Rei was genuinely impacted by the events in episode 7, realizing that he was pretty 'useless' when it came to raising Miri, and has taken the initiative to give a helping hand.

And what I love about that is, we know that Rei had absolutely no clue how to work a microwave or any basic cooking, so for him to automatically suggest and start making onigiri shows that either he had previously asked Kazuki how to make simple items, or two, he was more observant when Kazuki was cooking, because he wanted to be able to do more, do anything to make his little girl smile.

And it's so wonderful to see them actually bring up this plot point and continue it, rather than letting it be a one-off plot point.

They pick up on his interest to be more involved and we see him actually trying.

Knowing the unfortunate circumstances of his childhood, it's not that Rei doesn't want to help out or get into Miri's activities, but rather that he simply doesn't KNOW what to do. Doesn't know what's right.

His hesitance throughout the Episode is evidence of that, his hesitance to give Miri his riceballs.

He genuinely looks so sad, feeling like he can't compete with Kazuki's sheer talent with cooking.

His hesitance to even cheer for Miri.

Growing up in a family full of espionage and assassination, quietness and taking up little to no space must've been embedded into his system, into his psyche, and the fact that he's actively trying to be loud, to draw attention to himself, just shows the effort he's putting into taking care and raising Miri, something his father never attempted to try.

And both Kazuki and Miri appreciate his efforts.

They understand that he's trying and are so enthusiastic and receptive to his attempts.

Which is why he takes it to heart that Miri fell down because he was 'loud'.

I think, in that moment, he thought that he failed, that failure is never acceptable.

But, that final reassurance from Miri (in the cutest way possible), that he didn't fail, he didn't do anything wrong, and Miri considers them all to be a family, something he never had, something he's never known, that's all he needed to realize that, yes, maybe he'll fail, but at the end of the day, Miri is happy, and there's nothing else that matters.

The other one I wanted to talk about, which is definitely more subtle, but the progression of Kazuki and Rei's relationship is truly so beautiful.

Kazuki treasures the help Rei attempts and supports him in every way possible.

When Rei said that he wanted to make riceballs and was worried if Miri would like it, Kazuki instantly reassures him that Miri would love it.

In fact, he proudly proclaims to Miri that Rei would be making onigiri. And I'm sure that if he hadn't, there might be a chance that Miri wouldn't have been able to eat it, while Rei was clouded by his doubt.

When Miri says that she likes the onigiri and she thanks Rei, Kazuki immediately tells him, "hey, you did good, look our daughter agrees too. You're doing good and trying, and we both see that".

When Rei is drowning in his self-loathing about potentially causing Miri to lose the gold medal, Kazuki tries to reassure him and tell him that he didn't do anything wrong.

Finally, when they're walking back, Kazuki tells him that he's proud of him, that he worked hard, and you can tell that Rei really appreciated that, to know that his efforts were being accepted.

And that's why their relationship grows in such an organic manner, Rei puts in the effort, tries his best to help out to the best of his abilities, and Kazuki reassures him, let's him know about things that he would have no idea about, and vocally supports him.

And Miri, my sweet angel, with her bright personality and even brighter smile, constantly comforts both Kazuki and Rei, that she's happy, that they ARE a family.

The reason they are a family is because each one of them helps each other, is an equal part in the group.

And at the end of the day, they're just all trying their best, taking one step at a time, while the others, cheer them on.

(And this picture is the perfect symbolism of that sentiment, Rei awkwardly trying his best to smile, and Kazuki physically trying to bring him closer into the picture).

#buddy daddy spoilers #miri buddy daddies #rei buddy daddies #kazuki buddy daddies #buddy daddies #anime #manga #bd #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #i had so much to talk about but I tried to concisely explain it even though I'm losing my mind #kazurei

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mothwingwritings · 2 months

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Your Yujiro x reader has been on my mind recently, and an interesting idea came into my head - what would happen if the reader somehow stumbled upon Yuichiro? What would he think of the whole situation, particularly because he is of a *very* different temperament than his son? Would he develop some sort of feelings for (reader)? I'm pretty sure Yujiro would be pissed to see his father meddling in things 😭

You're one of my fav writers on here!! Keep it up ❤︎ and make sure to take care of yourself ☺️

… I can’t believe I didn’t think of writing anything for Yuichiro before this ask lol. How could I write so much about the Hanma family’s favorite girl (you) and never mention Yuichiro??? Shame on me tbh, let’s change that now!

(And thank you for your kind words!!! You are very sweet! <3)

WARNINGS: Mentions of sex, noncon, past abuse, and stepcest.

If by some miracle act Yuichiro was able to obtain a corporeal form and once more walk amongst the living, he would be very intrigued by how far his lineage had come and what the Hanma’s were able to accomplish. Being the start of it all, he had a vague idea of how things most likely have progressed. There is no doubt that his unruly son has grown massively strong, and he’s sure that strength has caused countless problems for people near and far.

He was aware that Yujiro had children at this point, taking quite an interest himself in Baki and Jack’s development. Children weren’t always guaranteed to take after their parents, so it was always a delight when at least one of your offspring was able to carry on the family line with the strength and power you and your ancestors worked so tirelessly to cultivate. When Yuichiro found out that of all the children Yujiro had fathered, not just one, but two showed such immense potential? He was as pleased as he was proud, even more so to discover Baki and Jack lacked the level of belligerent arrogance that made their father an unbearably volatile presence to be around.

While he was taking note of his family line he happened upon a surprising outlier- you. He was at first puzzled by the fact that the Ogre, with all his rampant testosterone, was even able to produce a daughter. When he dug a little deeper and realized you were adopted into the family, while that in and of itself made sense, it left him with even more questions. Why would someone like Yujiro go out of his way to adopt someone else’s child, let alone a female, when he barely cared about the children he himself had brought into this world? Based on the limited knowledge he had of you, you didn’t have any kind of superior strength or secret, hidden abilities that may have spurred his son to take you under his wing. So how exactly did you become awarded with the name of Hanma?

The mystery became too intriguing to ignore, thus he sought you out.

The moment he saw you, he instantly began to understand your appeal. He kept his distance at first, not wanting to overwhelm you with his presence as he made his initial observations. From what he could gather, you were a thoughtful girl, kind and affable to your friends and strangers alike. He noted that you seemed a little jumpy, on edge in scenarios you should feel more at ease, and he worried that maybe he wasn’t concealing himself enough and you were catching on to his surveillance. You may not have Hanma blood in your veins, but you’ve been around them enough to recognize the specific aura they exude. He would need to be more careful, maybe conducting his research on you was best done through other means.

Hence, he decided to look into your relationships with his son and grandsons, hoping to get a better picture of who you were as a person and unravel the secret of how you became intertwined in their lives.

However, what he ended up finding out was not anything he ever expected.

As soon as he learned the horrific truth of how his family had handled you, the revolting nature in which not just his son, but his grandchildren, showed their ‘affection’ for you, he was at a loss for words. Yuichiro was beyond disgusted by their actions, particularly due to the fact that their aggressions were against an innocent woman who had no means of defending herself against the brutes that were incessantly at her heels.

Your jittery nature made complete sense now. You weren’t constantly on edge because you were a naturally excitable person- you were on edge as a defense mechanism. You had to be cautious around everyone for your own self-preservation, frightened that you may unwittingly be subjugating yourself and the people around you to extreme danger by being in a public space. The man who was supposed to be your father figure had assaulted you, hurting and scarring you in irreparable ways. The brothers that you loved and looked to for protection ended up having the same perversions as the man who had created them, betraying your trust in their attempts to force themselves upon you.

Disgusted wasn’t a strong enough word for what he had felt upon learning these revelations. His disappointment in his kin was immeasurable.

When he finally introduces himself to you, it’s apprehension that greets him in return. He can see the fear reflected in your eyes as you were faced with the instant realization of his strength the absolute power he held over not just you, but anyone who may step to him. Yuichiro was a complete stranger to you, in fact you probably hadn’t even seen a picture of him to make any sort of connection. But he could tell that within moments of making your acquaintance, you understood who he was. He was a Hanma, and therefore, he was a threat.

Seeing you cower before him, your whole body vibrating in a state of alarm, eyes darting around the vicinity as you tried to map an escape route should this meeting go south… it broke his heart. It wasn’t that he was immune to your charms, Yuichiro could definitely see the appeal of wanting to be close to you in an intimate manner, but to take you by force? To treat you so horribly, handle you so violently? It took all his power not to make his rage over the injustices you had faced show on his features, lest he frighten you further.

It took a while for you to warm up to him, but the relationship that blossomed was well worth the effort. You were a lovely person all around, beautiful in every sense of the word. The more he got to know you, the more he saw your true personality shine through, and the longer he spent with you, the more his affection for you grew.

Yuichiro had made his decision. You would be safe with him-completely and undeniably cared for under his watchful eye. He would be the father Yujiro never could be, the protector your brothers failed to be. He would become your family, a true family, and insure that you will never have to spend another day living in fear ever again.

In short, Yuichiro’s arrival would probably be the ONLY thing that would ultimately protect you from Yujiro and the rest of the Hanma family. This is great for you because he’s a man of his word, the moment you come under his care Yujiro’s entire existence is like a distant nightmare, and that is something you are exceedingly grateful for. However, you feel the absence of Jack and Baki much more profoundly, as you considered them to be your true family and still love them very deeply. Even though you know ultimately this arrangement is for the best, and you feel much safer and happier in Yuichiro’s care than you have ever felt with anyone else in your life, you still find yourself missing Jack and Baki greatly. Even with their betrayal shattering the last of your innocence, causing you deep and lasting scars, life without them still hurt, and you don’t think you’ll ever heal enough to ignore the pain.

… All this being said, it wouldn’t be on brand for me to answer this without fucking it up a little bit, right?

After some time living with Yuichiro, growing dependent on him for basic care and protection, his fondness for you begins to manifest in ways that are… shocking, even to Yuichiro himself.

Maybe it was the long absence of a lover that began to steer his desires, or perhaps it was the sweet and selfless nature in which you offered your love to him? Who knew it would warm his heart so much to see you standing in the kitchen, sweet little apron tied around your waist as you hummed a little tune, hard at work preparing a new recipe you had picked out specifically to please him? All the little things you did without a second thought made is body and soul ache for you.

You were always cute, but when exactly did you become so irresistible to him?

It caught him off guard to feel a flutter in his stomach when he saw your smile or heard your laugh. At his age he figured he was far past feelings like this, especially with someone so much younger than himself, especially with you.

He didn’t expect the blush that dusted your cheeks when he entered the bath you were currently occupying to excite him as much as it did. He took great pride in the control he had over his body, keeping his emotions and desire in check was one of his strong suits. But seeing you there, bare and bashful, trying desperately to cover yourself while your eyes refused to linger on any part of his exposed body for too long… you were definitely testing his limits here, sweetheart.

Did you know how effortlessly beautiful you were? Did you realize just how tantalizing even the most innocent of your actions were? Would it upset you if he told you how pretty he found your body, as his eyes drank in every inch of skin you were working so hard to hide? Would it scare you if he helped you to understand just how much sway you had over not just his heart, but all of his wants and desires?

He had chided and scorned his family for their mistreatment of you, the sick, twisted feelings they pummeled you with not only threatened your existence, but were also a stain on the illustrious Hanma name. Yuichiro wanted nothing more than your happiness and your security, both were things he took great honor in providing to you, and he found his own joy in knowing you felt contentment with him after so much suffering. But he was starting to get an itch that was growing harder and harder to scratch. An itch he felt his kin was all too familiar with.

Maybe he’s not so different from his son and grandsons after all?

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xjulixred45x · 5 months

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Rin Okumura x Half Angel! Reader

Request from @birdgirl98

Hi! How’s your weekend going? Could I request Blue Exorcist Rin relationship headcanons with a female half angel half human reader? Please and thank you!

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: Minor Manga Spoilers, some discrimination, Reader is Half angel, Fluff.

Rin was quite shocked when he first met you.

more than anything because he confused you with another Nephelim, due to the...strange aura you had.

Rin even felt threatened by you, by your presence. Maybe bc You were somewhat Holy.

probably his instincts as a son of satan tried to "protect" him from you in a certain way.

but at the same time very intrigued.

apart from the fact that, in general, you were never mean to him, in the least. In fact, quite the opposite. not only with him, but with everyone in the class, no matter how rude they were(ahem hem IZUMO ahem hem), you were always so... bright and friendly.

You honestly already knew that he was the son of Satan even before he said it because of all the demonic power he and the sword gave off, but you didn't want to expose it because you knew how horrible it was to be a victim of that.

While you were growing up there were people who found out about your "holy ancestry" and tried to take advantage of it in multiple ways. if it weren't for your mother.

You got used to having a certain distance from people, although you never stopped being friendly with others.

Apart from the fact that you were also strong, it could be seen with the naked eye. It was that that made him (and most of them) think that you were also the daughter of some demon.

It didn't help that Mephisto constantly tried to get close to you to make "inside" jokes that no one understood.

but in general Rin didn't dare to talk to you, he just felt intimidated at first.

you had to take the first step in this. when you two were assigned a job together.

precisely because you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable after making conversation, asking him about work, things like that.

and Rin began to gain more confidence to address you more naturally later.

Little by little the "intimidating" atmosphere around you dissipated and he was able to start a conversation with you as he normally would with his colleagues.

You realized that he was doing poorly in most subjects, so you started to give him a hand in that.

sometimes with little notes, indirectly telling him the answer, evolving in afternoons of study with him. which led to you getting to know each other better.

It was around that time that Rin decided to ask about your parents. His curiosity was already reaching its limit.

and you decided to be honest with him, after all, who would understand better about mismatched parents if it weren't the SON OF SATAN?

and you told him that you were not a daughter of a demon. quite the opposite. but of an ANGEL.

Your mother had fallen in love with a celestial being but said being practically did not participate much in your life until you developed your powers, that was when the Vatican intervened and, similar to Rin, Mephisto intervened on your behalf.

Now, that made your intimidating aura make A LOT more sense to Rin!

for a moment at least.

Then he was very confused.

and he started asking you a lot of questions about your father and things like that because, well, he KNEW about demons and they even studied about them, but angels?? It is something completely NEW for him and he hardly knows that they also exist.

His questions aren't exactly invasive, but more on the side of innocent curiosity like "does that mean there's a heaven? (I guess I won't be able to go there because-you know) there's a GOD? Does your father work with him??" "Are the angels just as ugly as the ones they show in the Bible?(how did your mother like that then? ew)" etc.

It's even kind of cute to see, how Satan's son seems so intrigued by the "heavenly world" even if it is its total opposite.

Apart from the fact that not even YOU know the answer to more than half of those questions. but at the same time you finally have someone who doesn't seem bothered by this information...quite the opposite.

I firmly believe that Rin would be much closer to you now, because they are the only ones who fully understand each other's situation of having a questionable father but on different levels.

Rin also understands that you don't want to tell your classmates, whether for personal reasons or simply not wanting to tell them so as not to scare or intimidate them with the idea of angels.

Although even so, Rin will always remind you that he is on your side and that your companions will always ALWAYS see you as one of the group, regardless of your species.

Now, if that generates a conflict similar to the one it caused when he revealed himself as the son of Satan, he has your back and tries to get everyone to make peace, because 1- you didn't have to say it if you didn't want to and 2- it's something very staff who have hurt you before. They should be a little more empathetic.

If everyone learned from their experience with Rin and accepts you at first, he will be calmer and even proud of the progress they have made as a group.

everyone together tries to make theories about heaven and things like that 🤣

probably being the only daughter of an angel, similar to Rin, they put you in special training, but maybe instead of with Shura, with Yukio. so you both end up spending a lot more time together.

If you have wings, Rin DEMANDS to touch them! Of course, he won't do it if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but if you give him permission...oh boy he's rubbing his face in the feathers as if it were a pillow.

If you show your wings to the other classmates they will be quite shocked, but also intrigued (I can see Shiemi putting accessories on your feathers or brushing them 🥰 )

If we talk about advanced relationship terms, Rin is a physical contact guy, he really likes to hug you, give smooches, hold hands, anything is good for him as long as they are making physical contact.

Although in general spending time with you is good for him when he is stressed, it is like it recharges his battery.

If you like manga or something like that, HE'S YOUR BOY! I can definitely see him doing the unthinkable with you: lending you one of his Mangas.

He is also an expert at making you laugh, but he is a fan of doing it at the LEAST opportune moments, like for example, you are having a lesson with Yukio and out of nowhere you look to the side and turn to Rin with his chopsticks in his nose :/

He's also, canonically, very good at cooking, so depending on whether you're good at cooking or not, it could be another way for you to spend time together!

If you're like me and cook anything randomly, you and Rin can probably have a cute couple moment while making Bentos🥰

If you want to learn to cook, he teaches you! Go from being Gordon Ramsey in Master Chef to being Gordon Rasmey in Kids Chefs with you. super patient and loving.

(totally ruthless if it were anyone else. by anyone else I mean Yukio).

He is also quite protective of you.

For example, even if he saved your life and his, he knows better than to trust Mephisto too much, so if he sees him trying to pull one of those "inside jokes" I mentioned above, Rin gets defensive.

Also in general in exercises you tend to put your safety above the main objective😅 even if he know that they are not lethal exercises, it does not mean that you cannot get hurt easily(like the one of the Ep1).

Although it doesn't mean he doesn't trust your abilities! If you show that you have good skills in exorcising, he is the first to encourage you to improve. It makes him calmer knowing that you can defend yourself (or better yet, stop him if he gets out of control).

Rin is also sometimes afraid to be a little more open emotionally, after everything he has been through, he believes he handles everything well. But if you encouraged him to talk about what bothers him, I think he would honestly burst into tears.

You two understand each other on a very high spiritual level. If Satan wants to mess with YOUR boyfriend he will have to deal with you first. You can't stand the demon.

If your father comes out of the blue to "try to reconcile" or WORSE, wants to hurt you for being a half-blood, he will have to face the fury of the literal spawn of SATAN. Rin is not very nice to your father, very angelic and all, but having the father figure that he had, he definitely sees your father as unworthy of the title of Father.

(unless obviously you have a good relationship with your father currently despite everything. In that case Rin wishes things were that easy for him)

although I can definitely see him filling out nicely with your mother! He himself never met his and from what he learned more about her and Satan... he would really have liked to have someone like you had.

It may even become a habit to go to your mother's house from time to time, to get a taste of the life he wants in the future.

Overall, Rin completely accepts your angelic nature just like you completely accepted his demonic nature. He likes to think that you two are two sides of the same coin, for this reason, he supports you unconditionally and will be your accomplice no matter what.

He loves you very very much regardless of whether you are half angel, demon or just a normal human.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

#headcanons #fem reader #blue exorcist x reader #blue exorsict #blue exorcist #blue exocist rin #rin okumura #rin okumura x reader #ao no exorcist x reader #ao no exorcist

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seresinhangmanjake · 11 months

Text

your way back to me

Dad!Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake’s best student gets into an accident and ends up in the hospital, and he doesn’t want to leave her alone so he waits for her mother to show up. But her mother just so happens to be the love of his life who left him in the middle of the night decades prior, and it’s about time she shared her biggest secret.

Warnings: Allusion to smut. Cursing. idk, that may be it.

Notes: This is an AU of the Oh, Baby series.

She was a good kid.

A great kid.

Dedicated, strong, wise beyond her years. Wickedly stubborn, and yet, she managed to keep it from impacting her work. She didn’t have the ego; that entitlement and bravado that came with being as talented as she was. But she wasn’t just talented. As if it were woven into the network of her veins, she was the absolute best at what she did, far surpassing her classmates.

No one wondered how she achieved so much at such a young age. She lived by some internal set of rules that Jake had caught onto over the last few months. Something along the lines of ‘work harder, train longer, don’t lose hope, never surrender.’ He could see it in every choice she made—too similar to his own mantra of motivation when he was developing his skills in the sky so many years ago. But she was also open. Open to offering others what she knew, and open to learning from others what she didn’t. He couldn’t have asked for a better student; didn’t even realize one like her could possibly exist.

He never had a child. There was one woman he would’ve given it all to, but when she left, finding another he cared to build a family with was not so easily achieved. But if anyone were to come close to what he imagined his kid to be like, Eve was it. The qualities she possessed that he recognized as his own were what bonded them, and the rest of her—the other pieces that made her whole—were infinitely better. They surpassed him. Those qualities, he’d deduced, came from her mother.

He didn’t know much about Eve’s mother, and knew of Eve's father only what Eve had shared with him—that solely being that the man was a pilot and the determining factor in her choosing to be the same. And maybe, he thought, that was why the two of them fell into their easy flow. He had always wanted a child; someone to care and be there for, and Eve was in need of the support and encouragement that should have come from the father she never knew. And so developed the relationship they had—one of instructor and mentor, confidant and friend.

Rooster teased him; told him that if he wanted something to take care of and watch over like a papa hawk, then he should’ve just gotten a puppy. But a puppy was a thought-out process. It was an acknowledged adjustment to daily life that required careful planning. It wasn’t the same. He hadn’t planned on taking Eve under his wing. Somehow, it was a natural development. He cared about the kid’s well-being. He wanted her to do well. The possibility of her fire and liveliness being snuffed out from a mission gone wrong was unable to pass through his mind without an accompanying squeeze to his heart. Should it become a reality, he would lose the closest thing he had to a daughter, and he knew he’d feel the full force of it.

That was why he stayed when the rest of her team had eventually gone back to base. Despite his exhaustion, despite his duties, the aches in his body from cheap waiting room chairs, and the hours upon hours of unchanging news, he refused to leave.

Eve only had her mother, and while she had been notified of the accident, it would take ages to make her way to California from the east coast. When she would finally arrive at the hospital, he didn’t want her to be alone. He wanted Eve’s mother to understand that there was someone else who cared about her baby, who tried so damn hard to protect her when he could, and wouldn’t leave her side when he failed.

—-

Jake…

Jake!

He internally groaned.

He hated when you called out to him. He hated that your voice always sounded so clear; so near that it filled him with enough false hope to have him reaching out into the darkness, thinking his fingers might actually feel your body. He imagined them grazing along your skin as you smiled at him in a promise that you were real, right in front of him, able to be tugged close and held tight and kissed until the rest of the world fell apart around you. He pictured you still in his bed, wrapped around him, trading whispers of love. It was a common stabbing to his chest that never failed to pierce through to his heart. Yet, if it disappeared, if you disappeared, if the dreams stopped, he knew it might be the thing to finally undo him.

“Jake!”

He jolted upright in his chair before his eyes had a chance to snap open. He looked up at a ghost. Stunning. Ethereal. A well-known silhouette.

Huffing, he positioned his elbow back on the armrest so he could rest his cheek against his fist. He allowed his eyes to drift closed. “Go away,” he mumbled. “You’re not real.”

“What are you talking about?”

His vision again tried to adjust to the overhead lighting. With a bite in his tone, he replied, “You are not—”

His eyes widened as they met those he had stared into so many times before. Real?

Jake shook his head, trying to recall any serious hits to the head. But then an invading thought caused him to remember his purpose.

His stiff joints cracked as he hopped out of his seat and rushed to the main desk.

"Excuse me, Miss." The words tumbled from his lips so fast it startled the young woman behind the counter. "Can you please tell me if—"

"She's going to be fine, Jake."

His breath hitched at the voice not leaving the mouth of the shocked young woman. The voice that came from behind him. That voice. The only one that mattered.

Moments ago, he was convinced his mind was having fun with him, playing and betraying simultaneously. However, needing to know Eve's state had shoved that concern to the side. But now it was unmistakable.

Jake gulped. He slowly turned.

Fuck.

His brow pinched, eyes beginning to sting as his heart went wild inside his chest.

Beautiful. So damn beautiful.

Like a fresh wave, it washed over him how different he felt just at the mere sight of you compared to how he did for any woman he had in his life over the last decades. Those feelings never came close to matching. They weren't on the same tier; couldn't be when what he felt for you sat high on a pedestal of his own making.

His eyes savored their slow scanning of you.

Exhaustion showed in the slump of your shoulders and in the dark circles under your eyes. Your hair was slightly messy. The shape of your body was hidden under a large sweatshirt. Your thumbnails were worn down from being nervously picked at. And Jake could see a few fine lines touched around your face. But you were still you. You still looked like his girl. And he couldn't understand how the hell you were in front of him.

"Eve's going to be ok," you repeated. "I talked with the doctor already. They gave her some medication to help her rest."

"You talked to…" He was still worn out. Brain trying to catch up with the world around him until, eventually, it clicked. "Eve is your daughter."

The empty room was silent as you stared at him. Then you said, "We can come back in the morning to see her. They said visiting hours are over so we have to go."

You twisted on your heel, making your way to the exit. Your steps against the tile echoed.

You were real. Each passing second further proving it. So he followed after you.

"Wait! You can't just walk aw—"

"Not here," you interjected.

His mouth instantly closed. He wouldn't argue, fearing that doing so would somehow make you disappear. And that was not something he was willing to risk.

He trailed you out the front door of the hospital.

"Are we far enough away now that you'll talk to me?"

You stopped and faced him. Neither of you seemed to guess what to do first. He had asked his question and he wanted his answer, but you didn't appear to know how to give one, so he skipped past it and instead glanced at your ring finger. It was bare. But maybe that meant nothing.

"Are you married?" He asked.

"No." You wrapped your arms around your middle. Hugging yourself. Barring yourself from him. Your weight shifted to your other foot, then your averted gaze made its way back to his. "Are you?"

His head shook as he soaked in the relief of your response.

Heaviness settled between you despite the California breeze moving the air along.

"Did you know?" He broke the silence, but the tension held firm. And as if you expected it, you didn’t flinch. "Did you know I was her instructor?"

The simple gesture of your nod was a punch to the gut.

"And you didn't want to reach out? Talk to me? See me?"

"Jake—"

"I would've done anything to get a chance to—" He stopped himself at the pain screwing your features. That expression had always ripped him apart. Twenty years changed nothing.

Taking a calming breath, he continued. "I'm sorry. I didn't…I'm not trying to…" His hand ran down his face. "Shit, I don't know how to do this anymore. I never thought I'd see you again."

You made no rushing move to collect the words he was giving you, and Jake sighed in disappointment. This was not how the two of you interacted. You didn’t stand so far apart. You didn’t hold yourselves back from touching one another. You weren’t supposed to be nervous in each other's presence.

"You look beautiful."

With a snort, you replied, "I'm a mess." You looked down at your sweatshirt and leggings. "I wore this to bed last night. They called me at the crack of dawn and I practically ran to the airport." Tugging at the hem of the oversized top did nothing to erase its wrinkles. "I didn't know you guys train so early."

"Eve likes to, so I let her," Jake said. "I'm so relieved that she's going to be ok. She's really great. If I ever had a daughter, I'd hope she'd be like Eve."

A hard swallow briefly created a bulge in your throat. Your arms found their way around your waist again.

"Do you, uh…do you have a place to stay?" With me, he thought. You belong with me.

"I'll find a hotel."

"You can sleep at mine."

"I couldn't intrude—"

"Honey, it's you. You're not an intrusion," he said, stepping closer.

He would’ve paused to consider the slip of the endearment and the slight widening of your eyes, but he too desperately needed to convince you to go with him. He needed more time. More time to exchange questions, to learn all he’d missed. More time to hear your voice, and maybe, if he could encourage it, hear your laugh as well. More time to be in your presence and exist in the space you enchanted. More of any and everything with you.

His hand rested on your arm and even through the thick material of the sweatshirt, he could feel your heat. So familiar. So welcoming.

Home.

"Come home with me, Honey. I've still got the spare room."

—

There'd been an unspoken agreement, as Jake drove back to his house, that neither of you would discuss all that had been revealed within the half-hour prior. Well, ‘agreement’ maybe was not the most accurate of words. You didn't speak, so Jake didn't pressure you. Had you chosen to open your mouth, he would've hung onto every syllable.

When you did finally step into the house, you shocked him with your sudden willingness to ask questions. How long had he been an instructor? Why had he kept the house when he'd surely been deployed elsewhere for long periods of time throughout his career? How the rest of his old team was?

He answered each one as you made your way down the hall into the living room. Then you went quiet and Jake glanced over his shoulder to find you staring at his wall of frames. From left to right, your eyes scanned each picture—those of his friends, group shots of his past classes, and one or two of him with his Gram. But you stared longest at the last one, and reached up to softly run your fingers over your younger face; a happy young woman smiling wide from his kiss on your cheek.

His chest tightened. "Do you want something to drink?"

You jerked your hand back to your side. A pinkish tinge rushed to your cheeks from having been caught, but seeing that reaction only produced the same in him. "No, thank you."

Nodding, he said, “Make yourself at home.” Just as you used to. Back when you were so close, so attached to one another that home really was being in each other’s space. It was the way things should have always been. It’s the way things would have continued to be had you not left him.

Jake grabbed a glass from his cabinet as you sat, poured himself a swigs-worth of alcohol, and downed it. He needed to curb the edge; calm the wiggling nerves under his skin. Then he joined you on the couch.

“How are you feeling?”

You blew out a long breath. “Exhausted. I was in panic mode all day. The only reason I’m not suffocating right now is because the doctor promised me she’ll be fine.”

“I felt that relief, too,” he said, trying to restrain himself from wringing his hands. “I mean, I know she isn’t my daughter, but I try to help and prepare her for every obstacle as if she were my own.”

As he had hoped, he got to hear your laugh. Not the one he so fondly remembered, though. It was a weak chuckle, not the least bit imbued with humor, and there was an odd twinge of something else he didn't quite understand.

“Of course you do," you muttered under your breath.

His brow pinched, and he was ready to ask what you meant, but his first word was interrupted.

“Jake, why didn’t you ever marry?”

"Uh…" He shrugged. "I don’t know. It just never happened.”

Lying to you was not something he was accustomed to. It was different than when he was a younger man keeping the secret of his feelings from the woman he’d loved for a year. You’d never directly asked him what he felt for you, so he was never in a position to be untruthful. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to tell you now that the sole reason he never married was because the only woman he ever imagined having a family with vanished from his life while he slept unaware and unable to stop it. You, though, didn’t seem to have the same problem when it came to properly moving on. You had created that family. Without him.

“Were you ever married?” he asked. “To Eve’s father? Or someone?”

For such a simple curiosity, you took a while to address it, opting instead to sit in silence, eyes not entirely focused on any particular thing in the room as one thumbnail picked at the other.

He knew that look, only shown when you were overthinking.

"Jake," you began, eyes still lost for a moment before they flicked over to his, “Do you know how old Eve is?"

"Sure. Pretty much everyone does. She's one of the youngest to ever be in the program," he chuckled.

A sense of pride encouraged his smile. Being so young made Eve’s skill and abilities wildly impressive, and aiding in her success couldn't be compared to anything less than an honor.

His grin remained long after the lingering of his statement faded entirely. And not once did your expression shift. Rather, the radiating anxiety continued to halo your body.

Jake placed his hand on top of yours to soothe their fiddling, and you immediately grabbed onto him, pulling that hand closer and keeping it snug between your palms.

“Honey, what’s wrong?"

Sighing, you peered up at him. Your gaze was sad, desperate, pleading, in a way. And he stared back, trying to decipher that pain; hoping to figure out why you were looking at him as you were, and why you'd asked the questions you did.

Then his eyes widened.

His jaw slackened.

Lips parted.

He’d heard of those random shocks. Those instances of a thread suddenly linking two dots, and that new connection bringing a clarity which, in hindsight, should have been so very obvious.

Jake sifted through his rapid replaying of memories that spanned the last couple of months.

Phoenix eyeing the young student and commenting how the girl bore quite the resemblance to him—He’d brushed it off. Plenty of people had blond hair and green eyes.

The way she sometimes spoke. A specific phrase said in a specific tone that he’d only ever heard come out of your mouth—Just an odd coincidence.

The fact that her name was the same as his grandmother's—There were only so many names to select from, right?

But now, with that new unbreakable thread connecting those previously sporadic dots, clarity smacked him upside the head.

"You left me at the beginning of that summer," he started, voice low and slow and careful with each word. "And Eve's birthday is in March."

"Yes."

Looking down at your joined hands, he nodded and said, "She's our daughter."

He could practically hear your swallow.

"...Yes."

He stood then, hand slipping from yours so it could run down his face as the other settled on his hip. He blew out a heavy breath.

"Jake, I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I thought—I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. When I found out you were her instructor, I was going to find a way to tell you, but I was so scared and it was selfish and—"

"Does she know?"

"No, she—When she came here she told me she looked up to you, and that if she imagined the kind of man her father was, he'd be like you."

You paused to properly exhale, head hanging in the aftermath.

He wanted to erase that showing of shame, but if he interrupted you, you might not have given the rest of the story. And he needed the rest of the story. He needed the truth of the events that had haunted him for decades.

"I always felt I made the biggest mistake of my life the day I left you, but hearing her say that solidified it. And for years, I let fear keep me from righting that wrong,” you said, a droplet of water falling from your face, soaking into the fabric of your leggings. "All this time I've been so afraid that you wouldn't want her, and you wouldn't want me, and it's paralyzed me."

His fingers twitched at his sides, begging him to allow them to brush away your tears—to let the woman he loved know that he didn’t hate her for her past choices—but he couldn’t move. And the only thing he could think to say was, "Should it really have taken her getting hurt for you to tell me?"

Raw heartbreak seeped into your gaze.

"So it's my daughter that is laying in a hospital bed right now." The more he said it, the more he called her that in acknowledgment of who they truly were to one another, the more it ached each limb and vein and nerve of his body to know that she was hurting. Yes, he had always cared about her and treated her like his own, but Eve being his daughter changed things. It altered his biological instincts and the chemical balance in his brain. Failing in protecting her was no longer just a failure, it was catastrophic to his soul.

He pictured her face bruised, her lip cut, her cheek swollen. He imagined your sheer horror once learning she was injured thousands of miles out of your reach. You’d faced it alone. You never should have been alone to begin with.

"I should've kept looking for you," he said. "I should have just told everyone else to fuck off."

"Jake, if they were telling you to give up, then—"

"Don't. Do not say it was for good reason. We could've been together. If I had found you we would've been a family."

The day his friends had sat him down, laid out what they believed to be the reality he refused to accept, and told him to move on, was fresh in his mind. Not a moment of it had faded. He’d dreamt about it for ages—sometimes still did—always waking devastated.

Your palm cupping his cheek called him back from his thoughts.

"The only reason we weren't a family is because I fucked up. I did,” you stressed. “This isn't on you."

You were suddenly so close, he realized. So warm within his space. How he’d survived losing you, he didn’t know.

"Would you have come back with me? If I had been able to find where you were?"

Your hand fell but he grabbed it before you could retreat, and thankfully, you didn’t fight him. Then you sighed, the act expelling the tenseness that had stiffened your form. "I'm not going to answer that question."

Perhaps for the best. Either answer would’ve broken him.

He wished to go back in time, to never give up on his search. He wanted a chance to convince the woman he loved to raise a child together. He wanted to be a father to that baby girl as she’d grown, and enjoy all of the moments that came with being her parent.

Nothing could give that to him now, but at least he wouldn’t be losing any more time.

Eve being grown didn’t mean she wasn’t his. Being in one another’s lives proved to be predestined. He was a father, had always been, and could maybe finally be seen as a father by his daughter now that you had bared it all and given the truth.

So he figured maybe it was only fair to do the same for you.

Jake looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes bore into yours, taking in the swell of your pupils and the different colors flecked around in what remained of the ring of your irises. "Is this secret sharing day?" he asked.

"What?” Your brow pinched as you sniffled and swiped your fingers under the lower lashes framing your right eye to remove the final remnants of tears. “I-I suppose so. If that’s really what you want to call it."

“Good.” Both hands were on his hips to give him some sense of physical stability, and he licked his lips, then said, "I didn't get married because I never found anyone I loved as much as I love you. I couldn’t fully give myself to anyone while I still belonged to someone else.”

Shock and disbelief melded inside that previously heartbroken gaze.

He hadn’t been able to say the words before you left. You hadn’t given him a chance. But he could see now that you had spent years wondering if felt that deeply for you, as he had wondered if you felt that way for him.

“Jake, you…you love me?”

“I've always loved you, Honey,” he declared just before his lips met yours.

The soft touch didn’t seem to stun you. You didn’t take your time to adjust to the kiss you hadn’t shared in decades. Instead, you fell right into it, right alongside him. Your arms rose to wrap around his neck, sending shudders up his spine. You tugged him closer as he did the same to you. You moaned and whimpered and let your tongue play with his, so generously allowing him to get drunk off of your taste.

You kissed him exactly like he remembered; like nothing had changed or interrupted the perfect path you once started on. There was the same sweetness that, just as it used to, surrendered to an underlying burn. A familiar need for each other that had never died. And you settled into it; kissing skin and grasping at clothes and snuffing out all space between you until neither of you could take it anymore.

“Honey?” A little whine into your mouth.

“Yes,” you replied, sealing your lips again before he could say another word. Because you weren’t just answering the call of his name for you. You were answering the unspoken question the both of you already knew was coming.

Jake grinned into the kiss and slipped his hand down the front of your leggings.

—-

"I assume you have more questions?"

Your voice was the first break in the peaceful silence where he had been lazily pressing his lips to your neck and bare shoulder while your back was tucked against his chest.

He did have questions. But it was a war whether to ask them or to remain a little longer in the bubble of bliss where he could touch you and cuddle you and kiss you. You had asked, though, and he'd never been too good at denying you anything.

Pulling his lips away from your skin, he said, “A hundred of them.”

You flipped under the bedsheet to face him. "Any particular one you wish to start with?"

Jake paused. Not because he didn’t know the first of which to ask, but because your answer had a great deal of power over him. It contained his hope and his pain, either with the potential to destroy the other. It was an answer that would dictate his future.

"Can she know?" He finally asked.

"She deserves to know,” you replied to his relief. “She'd want to know. As long as you want her to know, too."

His arm over your waist curled and pulled you closer. "Of course I do, Honey."

"Then we can tell her tomorrow, if you want."

"Are you ready for that?"

"It's not about me," you said. "She might forgive me now, she might not. It could take a while, I suppose, and I hate that, but I'd deserve it."

When your head dipped down away from his, he ran his hand over the strands of your hair and brushed his lips against your forehead.

"I hope that we all can look at this as a chance to have something new, though," you continued. "I'd like for us to look ahead, not behind."

Jake smiled. That was all he wanted. Just a chance to have what he’d lost. Everything he had lost.

"And what about you and me?" He hummed as his knuckle under your chin tilted your face back up to his. "Do we get something new as well? Because I don't know if I'm capable of letting you walk out of my life again."

The corners of your lips curved the slightest and you cupped his cheek, drawing him further into you. The kiss was gentle, brief, but more than enough to send tingles throughout him. Then you separated a hairs width and whispered:

"Jake, I'm not capable of leaving you again."

----

A/N: Ok, so this might be it for a little bit, guys, as far as fic posting. There’s been a lack of interest it seems lately and i’m not in a good space mentally to be able to put a lot into it and not know how it’s being received. It’s no ones fault but my own that I feel this way. This is how I’ve chosen to spend my time and this is the platform I picked. I want to write the rest of Oh, Baby and Beyond the Hills stuff but idk. Maybe i’ll snap out of it. But this was just to let those of you who have been following know what the plan might be. I’m very thankful that some of you have stuck around this long.

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick hangman #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #dad!jake seresin #dad!jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin x fem!reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin au #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfic

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ms-cartoon · 4 months

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This must be extremely awkward for the Charlastor shippers right now. . . .

This father/daughter feeling that Alastor has with Charlie is cute n all, but it's totally out of nowhere and makes no sense. If they truly have that kind of relationship, it must've developed off-screen where the audience was NOT able to witness it. Viv really needs to quit it with the "tell but don't show" bs! No way you can make me believe Charlie and Alastor have any sort of attachment apart from co-workers just cuz you put it in a song!

Cuz first of all, since WHEN has Alastor cared emotionally about ANYONE apart from himself?? The same guy who only wanted to work with Charlie not because he believes in the idea of redeeming sinners, but because he likes to see people fail despite how hard they try, showing how much of a sadistic jackass he is and how much he doesn't care for others around him. He most likely wanted to stick around to even see Charlie fail at redeeming her sinners. If he really did care about Charlie, maybe he would show a little support and possibly consider redemption for the sake of her.

Their father-and-daughter relationship would make more sense if we actually had the chance to SEE the progress and development of it. The entire time the episodes are in play, we don't even see Charlie interact with Alastor enough for them to be considered close friends.

EP 1: They only exchange a few words about the commercial he made. . . . . and that's it . . . . They don't see each other again throughout the rest of the episode since Charlie attended the angel meeting and Alastor stayed at the hotel.

EP 2: They don't interact in this episode at all, except when Charlie tells him to ease up on Sir Pentious when he attacks him and Alastor seemingly ignores while laughing hysterically.

EP 3: Alastor was in a meeting with the Overlords for most of this episode. Even when he is around the hotel, he doesn't talk with Charlie at all.

EP 4: Alastor wasn't even present in this episode.

EP 5: Alastor to Charlie: I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond, You're like the child that I wish that I had, I care for you, just like a daughter I spawned, It's a little funny, you could almost call me . . . .dad.

Dude what . . . why would she consider you her dad? Where'd that even come from????

Viv, if you want to have a father/daughter relationship with Charlie and Alastor? Fine. But maybe have at least ONE episode where we can SEE the two interact enough to even be friends. Just cuz you put things in a musical number, doesn't mean it counts as development or anything official without intel.

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin critique #hazbin criticism #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel charlie #vivziepop critical

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year

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Hi! Can I request an Alicent's innocent daughter who pregnant dark!Daemon's child? I'm really curious about how the relationship between Daemon X Reader in this story will develop! Maybe reader was on the way to tell Dae she was pregnant again only to hear a conversation that Daemon was just using her (he really isn’t but Rhaenyra making sure she hears) she leaves and takes her son, and Daemon realises who he really loves and switches to the Greens! Plot twist, a Happy Ending please filled with much SMUT and Otto dies and a little flirt scene with Aegon or Aemond to make Dae jealous hehe.

A/N: I hope you like it! Maybe I went a little overboard with this and the character was not as innocent.

pairing: dark!Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

summary: Alicent's innocent daughter who is pregnant with dark!Daemon's child? I'm really curious about how the relationship between Daemon X Reader in this story will develop! Maybe reader was on the way to tell Dae she was pregnant again only to hear a conversation that Daemon was just using her (he really isn’t but Rhaenyra made sure she heard) she leaves and takes her son with her, and Daemon realises who he really loves and switches to the Greens' side! Plot twist, a Happy Ending please filled with much SMUT and Otto dies and a little flirting scene with Aegon or Aemond to make Daemon jealous

Word count: 8,5K

Warnings: Smut, Angst, spanking, fingering, P in V, pussy eating, spit play, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, orgasm control, cum play, jealousy

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You could not believe, you pregnant again, you were happy of course. The moment the maesters announced you were healthy again after the birth of your son, Vaenys, Daemon and you coupled like a bunch of rabbits so it was no surprise really, it was a matter of time.

Your father married you to your uncle after you turned ten and six name days old. You were not his heir nor were you even the second born so he married you to your uncle. You innocently agreed and was overjoyed by the match, at least he was not some fat old lord who could barely move a hand. Your mother was against it deeming the relationship queer however your father and insisted. Daemon seemed content enough with this marriage so hearing this conversation now made you feel confused at first.

"I do not understand why you still humour this marriage" Rhaenyra's voice was hushed not wanting anyone to hear but she was doing a terrible job at being discreet.

"She is fun to indulge into" You peeked into the room through the small between the door and doorframe. Daemon was sat beside the fireplace with a cup of wine in his hand and Rhaenyra stood beside his chair.

"My little half sister is no fun. She is just a dumb little girl who follows you around like some dragonling, she has not even ridden her dragon in over a year" She snickered. You had not been able to ride your dragon because you were very week during your pregnancy and then later on Daemon left you too sore or exhausted to ride.

"She is a cute little thing" Thing? Is that what you were in his eyes? A thing to toy with and fill with heirs until he got his fill? You turned around and left not finding the courage to face the both of them. Tears streamed down your face freely and you had no control over them.

You made it to your room in record time finding it empty, your son was down for a nap and your handmaidens were probably preparing for the feast tonight. A feast in Aegon's nameday honour, another one for you to watch him embarrass himself in. Your fingers shook as they quickly undid the laces. You felt breathless, no matter how many deep breaths you took you still felt like your lungs were closing up and unable to store any of the air coming inside.

You pulled the dress off followed by the corset and your linen leaving you completely naked in the middle of your room. You stumbled over to the washroom attached to your room and over to the bucket of cold water. You splashed your face with the water intended for other reasons. The water on your heated face felt refreshing but not enough. You sobbed harder as you slid down feeling like an idiot for falling for your uncle's games. Of course he only cared for the throne and would throw himself at Rhaenyra the second she gave him an opening, the throne was what he wanted and he won't be getting it with you. You were the fourth born child of King Viserys and third born of your mother.

You pulled your knees up to your chest wanting to sink into the floor and never emerge ever again. Your poor boy would grow up in a lie that his father cared but he never did. All those nights Daemon sung lullabies for him to sleep were for show only, to get closer to you and manipulate you into obedience so he can do anything he wanted without you noticing.

After what felt like hours your eyes dried of any tears having none anymore to shed. You bathed with the help of your handmaidens who shut their mouthes after you snapped at them to cease their questions about your wellbeing. You knew that they meant well but you did not wish to talk about the incident. You put on a dress you have never once touched in your wardrobe before, a dress your mother gifted you many moons back, a green dress. The dress covered your shoulder but dipped down into a deep V neck showing the insides of your breasts tucked closer to one another with a special corset from Dorne that pushed them inwards. The slit stopped just about your belly button, something you were shocked your mother sent for you to wear considering how religious she was. The sleeves reached your elbows before a thin fabric continued from there in a lighter shade of green in bell sleeves, the front reached your wrists but the back of it resumed to touch the floor. The dress kissed the floor as you walked even with your golden heels on. The back of the dress was only a little low showing your shoulder blades but not more. Over the right breast there was a golden dragon embroidered there still showing what house you belonged into. You placed two emerald earrings in your ears with a matching emerald necklace to shine under the candlelight.

Your sworn guard ser Lormer was stunned to speechlessness and remained so until you reached the great hall where the feats was being held The guard announced your arrival upon seeing you. A hush fell around the room as you stepped down the steps with your head held high. Your mother's face brightened at the sight of your choice of dress and a smirk grew on your grandsire. Otto's face. Daemon's face showed only shock and horror at the colour you chose.

"The beckon on hightower, do you know what colour it glows when the Hightowers call their banners?" You heard someone whisper the question somewhere in the room but it was heard perfectly fine in the silence.

"What father?" A younger voice asked. Your eyes watched your father's expression, he seemed to have been under a spell or maybe remembering a memory?

"Green" Was the answer. You paused in front of your father on the other side of the table. He looked up at you watching you as your bowed down in a graceful curtsy.

"Your grace" You greeted rising back up. You moved to round the table and paused behind your grandsire leaning down to place a kiss on his bearded cheek making his smirk widen.

"Good girl" he praised. You smiled and moved to take your seat on Daemon's left with Rhaenyra on his right.

"What in the seven hells are you wearing?" He leaned over to hiss, glaring at you. You leaned your elbow lazily on the armrest as music filled the hall again yet there were still stares on you.

"A dress, husband" You replied. Daemon's hands curled into fists in his lap. A smirk grew on your face seeing that you had irritated him.

"Did you not have any other one? A black or red one perhaps?" He asked infuriated with you. You turned to watch as some couples moved to the dance floor to some upbeat song before turning back to Daemon only then realising that he has never asked you to dance or let you dance with someone else, an activity you enjoyed before marriage, an activity you participated in at your wedding only once and never again.

"I am afraid they all are being either washed or thrown away" You responded apathetically with a bored smirk on your lips still. You could hear even from the other side of the table as Aegon demanded for some more wine. Besides you both new that was not true, you had way too many for all of them to be washed at the same time.

"Thrown away?" He was surprised now. Why would you throw away the clothes he brought for you, after you married he brought you a hole wardrobe and threw away your old one and made sure your wardrobe was of the newest fashions from all around Westeros.

"Yes they found mold on them and their foul smell filled the room" You hissed resentful and now Daemon knew your words had a double meaning. You pushed your chair back using his moment of surprise to move away from him. Rhaenyra watched in shock as you left Daemon behind, usually you stuck by his side even when he got up to talk with some lord. The both of them watched you make your way the Greens' side and to your brother Aemond specifically.

"Care for a dance brother?" You held your palm open for Aemond to take. Aemond was surprised seeing as you had not danced with him since before your marriage. He accepted the offer happily and guided you down the steps to the dance floor. Aemond was only one year younger than you so you two used to be the closest between your siblings.

"What caused such a change, dear sister?" Aemond pondered. You smiled gently moving to hold one of his hands in yours and the other around your waist. You placed your other hand on his shoulder and led the beginning of the dance moving with the beat of the music.

"Nothing, I just opened my eyes" Was your reply. Aemond chose not to push for more enjoying this moment in between each other's arms.

He lead in the dance twirling you around along with the other ladies in time. When you paused in front of him with a genuine smile on your face he placed both his hands on your waist and pulled you off your feet watching as you moved your arms above your head expertly before placing you back down on the floor. You two gazed upon each other the entire dance moving and twirling together you with the hobby of dancing and Aemond with the hobby of sword fighting.

"Another, dear sister?" Aemond asked once the dancing ceased and the tone changed.

"Gladly" You moved to his side with a grin. He held out his arm for you to hold as you moved along with the other couples.

Daemon watched from the high table as Aemond moved you, held you and felt your body, your body that belonged to him. He gulped down the cup of wine in front of him as Aemond held you from behind swaying from side to side before moving to twirl you to face him.

Rhaenyra watched Daemon's every facial expression with worry eating at her. What if he was rethinking what he said and promised? What if changes his support? What if he does not marry her the second Laenor was gone from the front? What ifs circled her head making sweat build up up her back.

You laughed when Aemond gave you an extra twirl as the song ended. Aemond's eyes twinkled as he watched you but then something behind your back caught his attention making him stoic again. Your turned to find Aegon standing behind you surprisingly with no wine anywhere near him, for now.

"If I may, brother, I would like to dance with our sister as well" Your older brother held out his hand. Aemond grumbled something under his breath before placing your hand in Aegon's hand and moved back to the table.

"Aegon, it has been a while" This time it was a much slower dance. A very provocative dance, it initiated no physical touch but the partners stood very near to one another, dancing and teasing one another.

"It has, dear sister, Uncle has been hiding you all to himself " Aegon chuckled darkly looking you up and down, eyes pausing on whatever flesh peeked from under your dress.

"Yes it seems so" You moved to walk behind Aegon. You broke one of the rules of this dance and placed a hand on his shoulder leaning closer to whisper in his ear as you other hand run up his side.

"You can have me all you want now" You let your breath hit his ear before pulling away and moving to stand in front of him again. Aegon's hand raised wanting to touch you but paused and moved back down to ghost over your waist. The both of you moved in a circle with not a singular inch touch but you were the closest to each other between all the couples.

"You have grown sister, your mind is no longer as naive" Aegon whispered. You moved closer hiding your actions with your body. You grabbed his hand with both of yours running your thumbs over the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist feeling his heart race. You looked at him through your lashes with a smirk.

"You mean I know the ways of the body now" You responded. Aegon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. You giggled turning to look at the high table noticing three people watching you, five eyes, Daemon, Rhaenyra and Aemond. Your smirk dropped when you saw the maester move closer to Daemon.

"I have to go, Vaenys is awaiting me" You spoke hurriedly before moving away from Aegon. He did not have time to stop you and watched as you sprinted in the direction of the exit.

"My prince" Daemon snapped from staring at you and Aegon, standing close, touching one another.

"What is it?" Daemon snapped annoyed. He did not even think twice if he were being rude to the older man but turned to glare at him anyways.

"I wished to congratulate you myself, your grace" The old man said. His back was slightly hunched and his bead touched his belly and sweat was evident above his brow.

"Whatever for?" Daemon's eyebrow ticked up in confusion. The older man grumbled a little maybe also annoyed with Daemon.

"Your lady wife's pregnancy" The world stopped around Daemon. You were with child? Why did you not tell him? What has gotten into you today? Daemon's eyes snapped back to the dance floor but you were already gone and Aegon was now entertaining some other lady. He stood up so fast he almost fell from the blood rush. His eyes filtered through the crowd trying to find your green dress, your white-blonde hair but you were nowhere to be found.

You however were hurrying down the corridors now with a cloak over your shoulders and your sleeping son of one bundled up in your arms. Daemon cannot now of this new child. He will surely kill you when it is born and marry Rhaenyra now that he had his heir and his spare. Your handmaidens did not question you seeing the maddened look in your eyes and merely watched you bundle your son and leave with a sprint.

You were thankful to find that the Dragon keepers were also celebrating somewhere leaving the dragons to their own. Yours was a light blue one laying closest to the exist of the dragonpit. He was a newly hatched dragon when you were born that you bonded with during a visit with your father to dragonpit at your second nameday and your egg was forgotten since then.

Your dragon raised his head feeling your presence and the urgency in your steps. He kept his body low allowing your to climb and chain yourself and Vaenys tightly. With one word your dragon clambered out of the pit and took to the skies with ease. You felt a rush of relief fill your body. You had the urge to open your arms and feel the wind but you would never endanger your son.

Flying above both land and water it reminded you of the days you used to fly alongside Aegon and Helaena as children until Aemond claimed Vaghar and joined you three. How happy those times were, how happy you were. You would not trade Vaenys or your other child for the world but maybe you would trade the circumstances.

Your peace did not last long when you heard a second pair of wings beating against the wind behind you. You turned your head and looked over your shoulder to find the unmistakable red of Caraxes. You turned back around tightening your grip around your son.

Your dragon sensed the danger swerved down to land on a nearby island not wanting to risk you or your children. He has always been protective of your child and now he probably also sensed your pregnancy and wished not for harm to befall you. But this ruined your plan of traveling to the free cities and hiding your children there. Your dragon laid down on the sand watching as Caraxes landed not far away from the three of you. You feared what was to come, what Daemon's reaction would be. Speaking of Daemon he looked furious as he walked closer to you and Vaenys.

"Where do you think you're going? And you're taking our son too" Daemon hissed furiously. You took a step back and away from him but he followed you.

"I was merely flying around to clear my mind" You lied. Daemon laughed almost darkly. His eyes looked crazed and the way he flexed his fingers by his sides made you feel an unknown kind of fear bubble inside of you.

"Liar, you are a terrible liar" Daemon accused. He stepped closer until you were almost touching with only Vaenys in the pace between you two.

"You intended to take my son and run away" His hand shot up to grab a handful of your hair pulling your head closer to him. You whimpered in pain feeling some of your hair being ripped out.

"I heard you, you have no need of a dumb little girl like me" You cried. Tears welled up in your eyes again at the reminder of the words. Daemon closed his eyes as if he was trying to compose himself.

"Those were not my words" He reminded. You shifted the sleeping child to one arm and used the other to push his hand off your head.

"No because you think I am fun to indulge into" You yelled. Your child whined annoyed at being disturbed. You shushed him urging him to go back to sleep, rubbing up and down his back.

"Is that a bad thing?" Daemon smirked shrugging his shoulders. You wanted to punch him, hit him and show him how hurt you were.

"You do not love me, Daemon, you seek fun with me. You love Rhaenyra" You whimpered. You turned your back to him making your way back over to your dragon. He watched you with his huge eyes filled with worry for you.

"You stupid girl" Daemon was quick to catch up with you and moved to stand in front of you. You paused your walking and looked up at him.

"Just because I seek fun with you does not mean I do not love you" Daemon pointed out. One of his hands moved to grab your chin gently.

"You love her more and you will always choose her over us" You shook your head. You tried pulling away from Daemon but he was quick to wrap an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him with only Vaenys in between you two keeping just a breath of space.

"I would never, you three are now my whole entire world, you do not understand how much you all mean to me" Daemon leaned his forehead to rest on yours. Vaenys squirmed in your arms a little but did not complain.

"I heard-" You began but he cut you off with a kiss to the lips. You pulled away to look him in the eyes, trying to study him, see if he was lying.

"You heard lies so come back with me, sweet wife" He Moved to place a hand on Vaenys' head pocking out of the blanket a little. The boy let out a sigh of content snuggling deeper into your aching arms.

"Come home, our home" Daemon moved to pull your son out of your arms. You breathed out a sigh letting him take Vaenys from your arms. Daemon hugged the sleeping boy close to his chest placing several kisses to his head.

"You swear you do not love Rhaenyra" You spoke before he could walk over to Caraxes. Daemon turned around to face you again growing annoyed with you and your stubborn head.

"I love only you" He responded. You nodded your head still not entirely believing him but followed him nonetheless. You climbed atop your dragon and rode behind Daemon silently and back to the Red Keep.

You went to your chambers while Daemon went to return Vaenys to the comfort of his own bed in his room. You undid the cloak once you were in your room which was dimly lit. You undid your hair leaving it cascade down your back. Daemon walked in as you took off your jewelry, first the earrings followed by the necklace. He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"Green is not your colour" He whispered in your ear. You shivered from the closeness of your bodies. His hands found home on your hips massaging the skin there slowly rising up to your waist before moving to rest atop your stomach.

"It does not suit my child" He placed a kiss below your ear. His hands pushed slightly in onto your stomach to indicate that he now knew of the child growing in your womb. Your eyes dropped from watching him through the reflection of the mirror to look down on the clutter laying atop the vanity table.

"It is my mother's house colours" You reminded him. Daemon did not respond too busy kissing up and down your neck. One of his hands rose up to your shoulder pushing down the fabric to reveal the skin below. His lips followed the path he drew with his fingers.

"Daemon" You did not know if you were warning him to stop or resume. Daemon pulled away to look at you in the mirror, violet eyes clashing with lavender eyes.

"You do not get to speak after what you did" Daemon hissed. His hands moved to your waist turning you around to face him.

"I should punish you for running away" He smirked almost evilly. Your heart dropped with fear but you felt excitement course along with your blood in your body.

"I could not bare hearing you almost confess your love for my sister and sit about" You pushed him back. Daemon did not even more an inch but his eyes showed his surprise that you found the courage to respond in his face.

"It seems I have let you free to much, wife" Daemon used both of his hands to rip the dress clean off of your body. You gasped in shock as the cold air hit your bare skin. Daemon was even more surprise to find you not wearing any other layer except a weird looking corset he easily removed.

"You will receive your punishment with pride and thank me for it" Daemon pulled you by your forearm to the nearest chair by the fireplace. He sat down and patted his lap.

"Daemon, no" You whimpered shaking your head, you regretted ever rebelling against him if he were to hurt you. Daemon ignored you, he surged forward wrapping his arm around your waist forcing you to lay down on his waist.

"Daemon, no, please" You tried pushing yourself up but he kept his hand on your back forcing you down. His other hand rubbed on the skin of your plump behind.

"Count or it will get worse" He warned. You felt your face warm up at the wetness that started to coat your lower lips. Daemon leaned closer to you grabbing at the flesh of your behind earning a small moan from your lips.

"Understood?"

"Yes, husband" You braced yourself on his leg awaiting the harsh slap. This was not the first time he had spanked you before but this still felt different than before.

"Good wife" You yelped when his hand came down on your behind. You cried a 'one' not wanting to anger him. Daemon placed his hand over the mark that will surely form there and rubbed it gently to sooth the pain away.

"I wonder how many more can you take" He voiced his thoughts noticing you beginning to squirm. His hand came back down on your behind harsher that earlier. The 'two' that you squeaked almost sound like a mouse screaming for it's life. Daemon chuckled darkly leaning down to place a kiss on top of the reddening flesh.

"It hurts" You complained wiggling your hips. Daemon watched as a small trickle of arousal ran down your thigh and your exposed cunt glistened in the candlelight.

"But you enjoy it" He teased. His hand trailed down running over your soaked slit. He breathy moan escaped your lips and your hips squirmed harder wanting even more friction. Your whole body was on fire with excitement and fear at the same time.

"Daemon please" You whimpered, burying your face in his thigh. Daemon delivered another slap to your bottom earning a quite scream from you. You still did not dare stop counting and whispered a 'three' between sobs. This pain was so pleasurable you needed and wanted more. Daemon could see the way your cunt clenched around nothing with the third spank so he delivered another one.

"Fuck, Daemon, four" You wiggled your hips desperately. You felt like you were going to cum any second now. You hated how easily your body submitted to him, how much control he had over you.

"Good girl, one more but do not dare cum" He placed a kiss between your shoulder blades, hand soothing over the sore skin, you relaxed in his hold at his affectionate touches that when he slapped you one last time it came a shock to you.

"Shit, five" You wiggled trying to get out of his hold. Daemon guided you to your knees in front of him. He shifted in his seat proudly showing off the bulge in his pants that grew tighter and tighter by the minute.

"My naive wife, running away like a coward" Daemon grabbed your chin and pulled you head up so you would look him in the eyes. His heart picked up speed at the sight of your teary eyes.

"Daemon I need release" You begged. Daemon noticed the way you were squirming in your place and realised you were rubbing your aching cunt against your legs under you from where you kneeled.

"Naughty wives do not get to cum" His hand wrapped around you bicep pulling you up to stand in front of him. He also stood up from the chair and moved you to sit on it instead.

"What are you going to do?" Your wide eyes watched as he unbuttoned his tonic and took it off. Your body trembled with excitement with the more clothes he shed. Your hands moved on their own accord as they raised to touch his bare skin when there was no more clothes left on his body. Your fingers run up his thigh to his hipbone.

"Like what you see, wife?" Daemon questioned snapping you back to reality. You withdrew your hand from touching him and looked up at him with wanting eyes. He slowly came down in front of you until he was on his knees. His hands laid on your thighs rubbing affectionate circles there.

"Did you truly think I would chose Rhaenyra over you?" He asked, a flash of anger passed by his eyes. Your own eyes trailed down look at his hands atop your flesh feeling tears build up in them. One of his hands raised to force your head up so you would look up at him.

"Answer me" He demanded. His hands trailed down to your knees pushing them apart as much as possible. Your hips wiggled unconsciously reaching for the edge.

"You love her more" You whispered. He pulled at your hips so your were as far away from sitting but more like laying down on the chair. The movement hurt your behind but you did not dare complain. He leaned closer to your mount but instead turned his head to your thigh instead leaving a trail of kisses on it.

"I love you most" He replied. His tongue licked a trail up your thigh to the side of your cunt. You gasped when he blew a little on the soaked skin. One of your hands snapped to grab at his hair pushing him closer to your pussy.

"Please, Daemon" You begged thrusting your hips up in the air seeking friction. Daemon showed you mercy wrapping his lips around your swollen clit giving it a gentle suck. His hands trailed down to your calfs giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Ooh yes" You moaned. His tongue toyed with your clit before he buried his face deeper into you and let his tongue slid inside of your clenching hole. Your breath was stolen from your legs as he shook his head from side to side letting out vulgar sounds, devouring you as if you were his last meal.

"Daemon" Your voice was so weak you did not know if he heard you. Your stomach was tightening wanting release. Your fingers dug into his head attempting to push him closer which was impossible.

"Do not cum" He ordered from below, his voice was muffled by your cunt but you understood him perfectly. The vibrations his voice sent through your pussy did not help your situation.

"I can't" Now you were trying to wiggle away so you would not have to disobey his ordered. Your hand tried pushing him away but he was quick to grab your wrist and move it away from his head and trap it on the armrest of the chair with his serving as a lock around it.

"I'm going to cum" You cried thrashing around even harder. Daemon used his other hand to push your hips down and steady the rocking chair so you would not tip it over. His tongue resumed to torture your clit and hole that was crying for release.

"Please, I'm gonna cum" Now you were begging to cum, you did not care of you disobeyed. The second you made up your mind to defy him and cum he pulled away with your wetness coating his lips and chin. You cried at the loss legs curling to close protectively in front of your weeping cunt. Your free hand slapped over your lips to muffle the cries. Tears leaked out of your eyes, despair filling your body.

"Naughty wives do not get to cum" Daemon repeated his words from earlier. He stood on his feet with his chest puffed out proudly. He picked you up from the chair as if you weight nothing and moved over to your bed laying you down gently, you were still pregnant with his child.

"Please Daemon, I need to cum" You begged clinging to him. He shushed you holding you close to his chest. You let him run his hand down your spine and over your bruised behind and over your thigh pulling it up to wrap around his waist while you both laid on your sides facing each other.

"You will get to cum on one condition" He promised against your hair. You gulped fearing whatever he wished of you. Your mind went blank when you felt his tip rubbing up and down your slit gathering your arousal but did not push inside, it remained as the weapon Daemon used to tease you, mould you to his will.

"What is it?" You whimpered hugging him closer to your body wanting, no needing an anchor to remain sane. You never really fared well with teasing.

"Swear you will never run away again" He leaned his head down to place a kiss on your cheek. His lips moved to your eyelashes then down to your nose. He avoided your lips on purpose awaiting to hear you swear yourself and your children to him forever.

"Promise me your husband, stay by my side and I will do as you want, as you wish" He bit at a piece of skin below your ear. He slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside but no more. You squirmed with a whine needing more than just his mushroomed tip inside of you.

"I- I need you to promise me something in return" You whispered in his ear. Daemon smirked loving this new side of you, the side that negotiated with him.

"What is it, dear wife" He pulled the tip of his cock out of you teasing your clit with it instead. Your hips squirmed with neediness, missing this tiny piece of friction it got from his tip inside of your tight walls.

"Never support Rhaenyra, never even talk with her" You pulled back from his ear to look at him. His eyes darkened and his jaw tensed a little. This time he shoved his cock inside of you fully almost as punishment. Your lips parted into an O shape with a silent scream of pain and shock. He watched your chest freeze unable to take air in for a hot minute.

"Why would I do that?" He smirked rocking his hips back and forth. His hand on your thigh, that was thrown over his hip, tightened to compose himself. You wrapped around his cock so good, if the seven hells felt anything like your cunt then he'd happily remain there.

"Because you love me, oh- or were you oh- lying to me?" You finally composed yourself. Moans slipped passed your lips with each movement of his cock. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders drawing blood be he did not care at all.

"Do not ever question my love for you" His his snapped roughly against yours. You cried out breaking eye contact to throw your head back against the pillows in ecstasy. His cock felt amazing inside of you as it always did.

"Then p-promise me that" You panted. Your hands moved to pull him on top of you instead. Daemon happily complied moving to pull your other leg up to wrap around his waist. His hips were snapping furiously against yours now. Sweat was build up above brow and his hair fell over his shoulders. Your fingers entangled into the hair that matched your own in colour.

"I fucking promise" He growled pushing himself up to look you in the eyes, giving you no room to doubt him.

"I swear to love and fuck only you and your cunt" His eyes trailed down watching how his cock slipped in and out of you. The way your arousal coated his cock letting it slid in and out easily and with no discomfort for either of you and how your walls swallowed him in clenching around him seeking both your and his peek.

"Your turn" He reminded. You surprised him when you pushed him back with both your hands and legs. He laid for a second beside you his mind not registering what has happened. By the time he focused again you were sinking down on his length hips already rolling back and forth, side to side and up and down, taking him from all angels.

"I swear to be only yours" You leaned down to press your lips against his, this started out as a punishment but now you had him under you, at your mercy. Your hips jolted with each movement needing to find release. Daemon held your hips trying to assist you from below by snapping his hips up to meet your thrusts.

"I'm going to cum" You warned. Daemon moaned feeling your walls clamp down on him. He did not even dare tell you not to when he saw the fierce look in your eyes and instead moved his gaze to your bouncing tits. He took one of them in his mouth sucking on it to hide his own sounds. Your hand moved to play with your other nipple tweaking it between your thumb and forefinger imagining it producing milk soon for your unborn child which proved to be your undoing making your release crash down on you.

"Fuck! Daemon" Your cried, hips now moving on their own accord to ride out your orgasm. Daemon used this moment of unawareness to flip you back around.

"Yes darling?" he smirked down at you. His hips jackhammered inside of you with no mercy. Your eyes opened to look at him, you looked like you were under a spell. His eyes trailed down to your mouth, lips open letting moans and whines of pleasure slip through. Your cheeks were flushed red along with your ears. The only sound other than your sounds of pleasure and his groans was the sound of skin slapping and the wetness of your cunt.

His eyes trailed to your breasts, moving with the rhythm of his thrusts inside of you, remembering the green dress that covered only a small portion of them at the beginning of the evening making his blood boil with anger. You were a Targaryen by both birth and marriage.

"You shall wear red and black from now on" He informed, not asked, not ordered or demanded but informed. You shook your head from side to side. Your insides were twitching with a second orgasm approaching you.

"You shall wear green" You shot back. Daemon's hand that was not holding his weight up from crushing you, snapped to wrap around you throat threateningly. You sobbed from the intensity of the pleasure, you never thought threatening your life would be so pleasurable.

"Red and black" He hissed. His stomaching tightened with pleasure, he was so close. He knew you were already pregnant but he shall fuck you full of another child even when you were so full, yes it did not work this way but he will make it work, he will make it work because he was a god, he rode two dragons, Caraxes and you.

"Green" You cried out head falling back as your climax washed over you, your legs shook furiously and you lost all feeling in your toes. Daemon ignored the wetness that coated his length and thighs, this was not the first time he managed to make you squirt. Your hand snapped up to wrap around his neck with the same threat of choking him to death. That was his undoing, he came with a loud groan, he has never came so hard before in his life but his hips did not relent and kept rutting inside of you.

"Filling me up so well my husband" You rolled your hips up teasingly as his thrusts stopped. Daemon whimpered at the friction and scrambled to pull out his cock.

"You little whore" He moved to lay beside you facing you. He placed a hand over your belly feeling it's flatness that will soon go away. He smirked evilly knowing that you grew more sensitive while pregnant and especially now that he drew two orgasms from you. His hand crawled down to grab at your mound.

"Daemon" You mewled legs snapping close to stop his movement. He did not listen and shoved two fingers inside of your cunt. He grinded his palm against your overstimulated clit.

"Gotta make sure my cum stays inside" He whispered in your ear. Your body gave in to his request and your legs fell open giving him the space to move his hand. He moved the two fingers inside of you gently at first before picking up pace into a punishing pace. The sounds your wetness created filled the room and usually you would be embarrassed but the pleasure of his fingers inside of you and his palm rubbing your clit was too overwhelming.

Your judgment was clouded but you refused to show it. Your hips rose to grind against his hand desperate for release, a release you know will be a little painful and you would grow to regret the next morrow but now you gave no fucks.

"Fuck me" You cried holding on to his arm for support. Daemon leaned down to capture your bouncing teats with his mouth. He bit down on the flesh before soothing it out with his tongue. The climax that washed over you was surprising to you as well from how fast it came, you did not even have time to warn Daemon.

"Good girl" He praised pulling his fingers out of your cunt. He held them close to your lips and you opened them willingly and let him shove his finger in, you let him shove them in so much you felt them in your throat gagging. You closed your lips around his digits and sucked as if they were his cock. He pulled them out slowly letting you clean them. Your tongue swirled gathering whatever you could find loving the taste of your own release.

"Very good girl, keep your mouth open" He leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You nibbled on his fingers before opening your mouth. He pulled away to glare at you but you only looked at him innocently sticking your tongue out wiggling it from side to side. Daemon gathered whatever saliva he had in his mouth and spat it inside of your mouth, some of it even going back to your throat.

"Swallow, wife" he demanded. You pulled your tongue back inside and swallowed before sticking your tongue out to him to show him that it was all gone.

"Good now do the same down here" He took your hand and moved it to his cock that was hard again. The sight of you cumming on his fingers ignited the fire of arousal inside of him again. You shimmed down on the bed until you were between his parted legs. He watched you as you pushed his hand away and took control over the action.

Your smaller hands wrapped around his shaft pulling the skin up and pushing it back down. You stuck you tongue out and leaned down to tease his slit like he did your clit on the chair what felt like hours ago and maybe it was hours ago, you did not know you had not kept track of time, not when his tongue was inside of you, or his fingers or his cock.

"Do not tease" He groaned. His hand moved to pull your hair away from your face and held it behind your head, he did not take control of the movement of your head, instead he merely watched you as you finally took all of him inside of your mouth.

You bobbed your head up and down making sure to swallow whenever he was deep enough inside of your mouth. Small whimpered escaped his mouth, his hips pushing up for more. Your hands moved down to place with his balls. Your eyes watched his face scrunch up with pleasure trying his best to maintain eye contact with you.

"Fuck" His thighs tensed on either side of your head, legs shaking with each suck you gave. One of your hands trailed down prodding at his own hole and ignored his whine pushing a finger inside. Daemon thrusted his hips up pushing his cock as far as possible inside of your mouth at the new friction making your nose bury in the little hair he had above his cock.

You gagged and used your other hand to push his hips down on the mattress again. You pulled away from him with a pop. He whined as your left his cock standing proud and needy leaking precum and his tip red. When you were sure he was going to keep his hips in place you wrapped your fingers around his cock pumping it up and down.

"Good husbands do not attempt to suffocate their wives" You teased. Daemon now used the hand behind your head to push your head down so you would take him in your mouth again. You giggled wrapping your lips around him again and sucked.

"Fuck, cumming" He warned holding your head down. You held your breath already expecting his white seed that shot down your throat. You swallowed it with him still inside of you making him cry at the tightness of your throat and push your head away.

"Naughty wife" He opened his arms. You crawled into them cuddling by his side. The both of you went to sleep covered in cum, sweat and filled with love for one another and had stupid satisfied smiles on your faces.

The next morning you woke up peacefully with Daemon sitting beside you playing with your hair. You had half a mind to fall back to sleep but could not leave Vaenys alone for too long. You turned to lay on your back stretching you arms out feeling numb and sore all over your body, a good kind of soreness.

"Morning, my love" Daemon greeted. There was a weird grin on his face but you just assumed you were imagining things.

"Morning" You sat up with the sheets wrapped around your body. There was a bath awaiting you in the corner and a breakfast on the table.

"I asked them to prepare your bath and breakfast here, I did not know when you will wake" Daemon watched as you got up with the sheets wrapped around your body still. You walked over to the bath dropping your sheet to get in. You sighed content with the warmth leaning back almost as if this was your throne.

"Thank you, dear husband, this gesture is very much appreciated" You smiled warmly at him. Daemon also got up and walked over to you.

"I have some business to attend to, I will be back soon" He leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead.

"I will await your arrival impatiently" You flirted. He smirked and moved to leave the room, closing the door with a click. You took a deep breath and dunk down in the scented water letting it wash away the sticky sweat and cum. You scrubbed your skin clean and washed your hair thoroughly. Then you lathered your skin with oils and dressed in a blue dress, neither red and black or green.

You hated that you had to break your fast alone but enjoyed the delicious food, everything you liked was on the table. From honey to chocolates and creams. When you were done you decided to go see your son now that you were clean and full. With a sweet hum you walked over to the doors attempting to pull them open only to find them locked. You tried again thinking maybe the door was stuck but to no avail.

"Ser Lormer!" You called your sworn sword. You feared Daemon had done something to him.

"Yes my princess" You sighed in relief at his reply. However the quiver in his voice made you sure something has happened.

"Are you alright?" You asked leaning closer to the door so you would not have to yell.

"Y-yes my princess" He stuttered. Now you were more than sure Daemon had hurt him somehow.

"Do no lie" You growled. Your fingers curled into your palms creating fists out of your hands.

"Prince Daemon cut my finger off Princess as punishment but it is alright I have nine others" Ser Lormer, always the worried sworn sword, never wanting to you to feel any pain even if it was not physical.

"I am so sorry" You felt tears build up in your eyes. Guilt was eating you from the inside out, you were the reason someone was in pain.

"It is alright princess, I am alright" Ser Lormer tried to comfort you. You took a deep breath pushing back the tears.

"Did prince Daemon lock the doors?" You questioned. It did not need a genius to know that but still you needed confirming. Was your sweet Daemon from yesterday just a character your husband played in front of your eyes?

"Yes princess, he said it was for your own safety" Ser Lormer answered. You moved away from the door with a small 'thank you'. You were terrified for yourself and your son. Why won't Daemon let you see him? Why did he not lock you two together? Did he mean to kill you? No, he couldn't or could he?

The sky darkened and you were going out of your mind. Daemon did not even send food for you to eat leaving you famished, worried sick and on the verge of madness. When you finally let your mind wander off to the idea of jumping out of the window to get somewhere other than the room did the door to your chambers open and Daemon strutted in with a tray of food in his hands.

"Oh dear wife forgive me, I was busy and forgot to feed you" Daemon said apologetically. You pushed yourself to stand up from the chair, wincing when you felt just how numb your backside had become from sitting on it for so long and it was already sire from the night before.

"What is going on? Why am I locked here? Why can't I see Vaenys?" You threw one question after the other at him. He moved to place the tray on the table beside the old food from breakfast.

"Some very unpleasant things. For your safety. And whoever said you cannot see our son?" Daemon walked over to you. He placed his hands on your shoulders when he was close enough.

"What happened?" You stood your ground with your question. You fisted his tunic to keep him close to you.

"Otto Hightower has passed" Daemon said plainly. Your knees turned into lead and your body leaned onto his. He held you close letting you slid back down on your chair.

"My grandfather?" You whispered. Your stomach dropped when the news registered in your brain. A hand snapped to your mouth in shock. Your eyes locked with Daemons just as a tear rolled down your cheek. He crouched down in front of you and raised his hand to catch the tear.

"It was peaceful in his sleep" Daemon tried assuring you. Of course that was a lie, he had poisoned him but you needn't know that. You were too innocent for this.

"Oh my poor mother must be divested" You whimpered. You leaned down to rest your forehead on his shoulder. He rubbed up and down your back trying to comfort you.

"Everything will be alright my sweet wife" Daemon whispered. Now Daemon had a new plan, first to show his alliance to the greens, for his pretty and innocent wife's sake and make sure Rhaenyra is out of the way, he cannot have his love running away again or doubting him or his love. He will punish Rhaenyra for choosing a room close to your route and for leaving the door open. He will make sure to rain hell upon her for what she did. At least now he had his lovely wife wrapped in his arms accepting him with no second thought. He will do anything and everything for her.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for headcanoning deadnames for trans characters for symbolism purposes?

im a trans guy (minor if it matters) who's been a fan of this one show for a little over a year. none of the characters are canonically trans, but there's a lot of trans allegories to be drawn from the material if you're me or my mutuals at least. the two main characters are both male and i ended up developing an au where they're both explicitly transmasc as a way for me to just explore trans themes in an alternate narrative. i haven't begun writing it yet but definitely plan to once i feel like it's solidly locked in my brain, and i've been sharing snippets & concepts every so often.

part of this was thinking of how they would've chosen their current names, and name symbolism got me considering what they would've changed them away from as well. one character i thought could've initially been named after his mother so i can draw contrasts between the two, and the name i decided on for her has a meaning that highlights her relationship with her father (and the character's relationship with his father in turn); it's also the name of the character's daughter figure in the show. a lot of the other main character's backstory kind of revolves around his dead sister, so i thought by making his deadname that sister's name then i could turn that into an allegory about transness and childhood and sibling death (and sororicide but we don't have time to unpack all that). i don't plan on ever explicitly referring to the characters by their deadname in the narration, except maybe in an ironic tone, but i think it would be cool to sort of sprinkle in references as subtext to just give the readers something more to chew on.

the thing is i've seen posts around talking about how nice it is to make trans characters/headcanons without once considering their deadnames, or how weird it is for people to consider them, and i definitely agree with the sentiment; one of the biggest goals for many trans people is for their past selves to be completely irrelevant, and i feel a bit guilty for perpetuating something so painful for the general community.

but i still don't think i'm an asshole in any way since these are literally just characters and obviously i'm not going around talking about real people's deadnames or anything. i just don't want to make people uncomfortable/trigger dysphoria if they find someone talking about deadnames for a trans charactsr they're attached to (i've definitely had that happen myself when reading trans fics, enough that i had to stop reading, and i don't know how you'd even tag for something like that). if the general gut reaction to this ask is negative then i'll probably consider just not talking about the deadnames unless someone asks about it, since they're not crucial to the plot at all, just some uhh not so fun tidbits.

anyway sorry this is so long for something i feel like might be a non-issue that i'm overthinking. if you somehow guessed the fandom have a chocolate 🫀 if you're one of my few mutuals who knows who i am from the details of the au then um pretend you didnt see this post.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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markeronacomputer · 4 months

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Why Is Alastor So Weirdly Protective Of Charlie (And/Or Why Does He Hate Lucifer So Much)?

So I’m sure we’ve all seen the newest episodes. Wow, am I right? A whole load to unpack there!

The main thing that really caught my attention, though, was Alastor. Specifically, his actions towards Charlie and especially Lucifer in episode 5.

Well… there’s not really much to say about why it’s weird, is there? So, without any further ado, here’s my thoughts.

In Dad Beat Dad, Alastor engages in a whole-ass musical number about how he’s better than Lucifer and, specifically, better at being Charlie’s dad than him. He seems to do this… solely to piss him off.

And, honestly, that makes sense. Because no matter how deadbeat a dad Lucifer was, Alastor is nowhere near better than him. This is the same dude who called Charlie’s dream wacky nonsense and continuously stressed that he was only there for the entertainment.

There’s no way in hell (ba-dum-tish) that that dude suddenly developed paternal instincts for her in what couldn’t have been more than a few months. So, clearly, it must be to piss him off. But why?

Well, one of the popular theories about Alastor is that the one who gave him his powers is Lilith. I shouldn’t have to explain why this makes sense: both gone for seven years, and of course the first time he’s seen since his disappearance is after Charlie’s voicemail to her mom.

And he must be very loyal to her, to assist her daughter in a dream that he explicitly states he thinks is bullshit.

It would also explain how pissed he is when Husk brings it up: maybe it wasn’t the fact that he brought up that he also made a deal, but that he implied that his relationship with said patron is less than healthy. You know, he don’t want people to speak about his girl like that. (guys don’t worry I know al is aroace it’s just a joke he’s her personal bodyguard)

So, it’s safe to say that Alastor is very loyal to and protective of Lilith, an attitude which must extend to Charlie, yes? Yes, but that doesn’t explain the general pettiness of his relationship with Lucifer.

Well, we just established that Alastor is loyal to and protective of Lilith, that would do practically anything for her. So do we know any character that Al has a similar relationship with?…

Oh, right.

His mother.

It’s been confirmed via Word of Vivienne that Alastor is totally a mama’s boy and adores her above all else. So, it’s not much of a stretch to say that he sees Lilith as a sort of second mother figure, right?

So, inversely, it’s not much of a stretch to say that he would associate Lucifer with his father.

Think about it. Have we ever heard his father be mentioned anywhere? No. And knowing that daddy issues are TOTALLY a long-running theme in Vivziepop stories by now (Blitz, Stolas, Moxxie, Octavia, technically Loona, Charlie, probably Angel to some extent), who’s to say Alastor can’t be the same?

Now, this is kind of a stretch, but I propose that Alastor’s first victim was his own father, whom he killed and cannibalised as revenge for years of abuse to him, and even more so, his mother.

That’s why he hates Lucifer so much. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near him, he doesn’t want him anywhere near Lilith, and it seems he especially doesn’t want him anywhere near Charlie.

Which makes sense, if we apply the logic from earlier to her. If he sees his mother in Lilith and his father in Lucifer, it’s possible he sees Charlie as a younger, more innocent version of himself: both theatrical dreamers, both never fully dressed without a smile, both incredibly emotional when it comes to the protection of those they care about.

It’s also safe to say that, no matter how egotistical he pretends to be, Alastor probably doesn’t have a very high opinion of himself, given how in the pilot he outright says that inside every demon (which INCLUDES himself, by the way) is a lost cause. Maybe it’s possible he sees her as himself before everything went wrong.

So, as it turns out, he’s actually less of a dad to Charlie and more of a big brother. And… I think that’s a lot more fitting for him.

TLDR: Alastor’s weird grudge against Lucifer is because he associates him with his abusive father. That and his loyalty to Lilith and Charlie are two things that, if I’m right, will probably prove to be very important to understanding Alastor as a character.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel charlie #charlie morningstar

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shadebloopnik · 2 months

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Some really messy sketches on a small little AU with Carmilla as a Fallen Angel Warrior.

Different from the Exorcists who slaughter Sinners, and more dedicated to the actual protection of Heaven against the darker forces. The designs haven't been thought out much, but I like drawing the horns, so I thought it'd be a cool warrior hairdo, like how Exorcists wore demonic masks (I was really bored in class okay-)

Her daughters, Odette and Clara are there too. They looked pretty different even as twins, which were a bit of an oddity at the time. They were often made to dress alike, and act alike. Most viewed them as a package deal rather than taking time to understand their individuality.

Its why they're dressed so freely in hell, relishing in how different they can be whilst still having a great bond.

Her daughters are ultimately what causes her to fall. Drawing the half horn half hair down style looked a lot cooler in my head, but it was fun regardless.

Some secret regarding her daughters get found out, Heaven making her choose to either cast her daughters down or join them. Carmilla didn't hesitate.

More info on the AU/fic in the cut belowww:

I dunno if im ever gonna expand on it, but I loved the idea of making it Zestmilla. Maybe Carmilla met the old Overlord in one of her trips in hell, maybe fighting in a battle there? Or helping establish order? Anyway, she was alone when she met Zestial, and the two were quiet the enemies when they met. They fought, though didn't aim to kill, resulting in a close fight with Carmilla as victor. She wasn't an Exorcist warrior, and saw no need to immediately end this Overlord. She wasn't sent there to do mindless murder, and would like to avoid useless battles if she could. Besides, he was polite enough, and though she didn't trust him, he didn't grate on her nerves either. Zestial was quite taken with her, suspicious and quite murderous towards an angel, but liked her well enough for her wit and level headedness. Her grace and skill in battle was also admirable.

They bump into each other many more times, over the course of Carmilla's visits to hell, and with each meeting, they turn a bit more cordial, even striking an unlikely friendship, that blossoms into much more. It takes them about a hundred or so years(bc i LOVE relationships that REAAAALLLY take the time to develop and build on that trust and love) before they become romantically involved. They seem like the couple who would take it slow, being cautious and not rushing anything less it would harm the other.

And though Carmilla's trips to hell were halted, their love was not for naught as she gave birth to Clara and Odette. Her one regret was not being able to give Zestial the great news, he would've been an amazing father.

She manages to hide their identities for a good while. The two had rather angelic features, wings and all, and humanoid forms unlike their father's. The only thing that pointed to their demonic heritage were their eyes, whose sclera was the same shade of red as her iris. It was easily hidden with simple spells though. The two girls bore quite the resemblance towards her, even with some oddities, and were left fairly alone, being able to remain undetected for decades.

(I just left this post to sketch this out real quick lol, just to get the coloring in mind, not set on the design but I dont mind it.)

The peace couldn't last. After a while with Odette and Clara still being considered young as angels, their secret gets out. Maybe the spells wore off, or by a slip of the tongue, but for some reason or another it gets found out that they're half demons. They were attacked, and the daughters were stripped of their wings and sentenced to be cast down to Hell, left at the mercy of the next Extermination. Carmilla was given a chance to redeem herself and stand back, and let her "mistakes" be washed clean.

Carmilla fought back, her wingless daughters clutching to her own feathers for protection. She scooped them up, flying away to hell, less they get any more damaged. Try as she might, however, they didn't manage to escape unscathed. She plummeted into Hell; feeling the curses and painful burn of magic at her back, nipping at her form.

It was as if Heaven and Hell itself tore her apart with her descent, both pulling with reckless abandon, shaping her into what they wanted.

She couldn't even afford to lose consciousness; she had her daughters to protect after all. Both girls were weak and bleeding, their backs aching from where their wings used to be. Carmilla glanced at her own feathers, and felt her heart break. It looked just as painful as it felt. Her once sleek and razor sharp looking feathers were nearly singed beyond repair. She retracted them, less she attract more enemies with them in display.

She struggled to get up, carrying her daughters with her despite the weakness in her legs. She didn't even have her spear with her, weaponless except for the ballet slippers she'd forged herself with angelic steel. Her hair was down and unruly, all three of them covered in burns and cuts and bruises and bleeding wounds. The attack came out of nowhere. Her daughters weren't even given a chance to defend themselves.

Weaponless. It can't happen again.

She manages to drag her daughters with her, only one place she could think of approaching. Its been decades since she's been to Hell, she hopes the territories didn't change too much. She was hesitant in going to Zestial for help. After all, its been years, and she'd left without being able to say goodbye. He'd be justified in hating her, and she wouldn't hold it against him. At the least, they could hide somewhere in his territory. His lands were one of the best choices, the demons residing under his rule were fairly disciplined. In a place as dangerous as Hell, an environment that was fairly familiar to her gave some bit of comfort. Even if he didn't accept them, even if he was unaware of their existence, Carmilla was satisfied with simply a place to rest.

She needed not worry though. As soon as Zestial heard the slightest news about strangers in his territory, he rushed to meet them himself. He noticed the large crash just some hours before night fell, and couldn't help the spark of hope. He was greeted by the sight of a few dead bodies, 1 or 2 who thought they could get lucky taking advantage of a weakened opponent. He arrived just in time to see a third fall, bloodied heels clicking on the ground below. The figure stood tall, though was clearly tired and heaving deep breaths. He barely noticed the two smaller figures in the distance, his gaze focused solely upon the lone woman, whose silver hair was still so beautiful even with all the dirt and blood matting it. He stepped closer, the sound of it causing the woman to turn and-

It didn't matter how dark it was. It didn't matter how her sclera was now the same shade of red as her iris were, as if it were inverted. He'd recognize her anywhere.

Without caring that he'd get stabbed himself, he rushed to pull her in a tight embrace, feeling her freeze beneath his arms. He buried his face in her hair, nuzzling it even with the blood and dirt, afraid as though she'd disappear if he ever let go.

He felt her large hands wrap around him and for the first time since his existence in Hell, he felt as if he could cry. This was real. This wasn't a figment of his imagination, nor a result of insanity. She was here. After all these years she came back to him. He couldn't be happier.

He immediately takes her and the two girls back to his residence, letting them clean up and helping patch their wounds. When he found out the two were his daughters, he felt as if- yea no, he was crying, this wasn't just a feeling, he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down as he hugged the two as firmly as he could without aggravating their wounds. He felt so angry for them, enraged that heaven could deal out such punishments for something the girls couldn't control.

He took them all in, preparing rooms for everyone. He prepared one for Carmilla too, not wanting to push his luck. It has been years after all, and he didn't want to force himself onto her should she decide she didn't reciprocate anymore. In the end, they all slept in the same room. Carmilla wanted to be with Zestial, feeling safer with someone else in the room to stand guard, and her daughters crawled back to her, far too afraid to sleep in such a new place alone after everything that happened.

So they all snuggled in the same large bed, Zestial keeping a respectful distance from the young girls as to not frighten them, all the while letting his webbed cloak wrap around Carmilla in comfort.

Carmilla fell asleep last, her thoughts running wild. It was all so much, but right now, here with her daughters in her arms and under Zestial's embrace, she felt at peace for the first time in a long while.

Glancing at the mirror across the room, she hummed at the changes in her eyes. The only thing she could think of was how was that she finally matched her daughters. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, she'd think, drifting off into sleep.

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