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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 months

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I dont know if you done this already, but what about you logan x fem reader fic, where reader is the little sister of Charles xavier or Eric, and they keep their relationship secret, but then everyone finds out and readers brother gets really protective of her and has a talk with logan trying to scare him off but it doesn't work

.⋆｡Worst Possible Decision｡⋆.

Logan x plus size reader

How could Logan be stupid enough to fall for the little sister of an overprotective metal controlling mutant? As it turns out, very easily.

Warnings: angst, gunshots, burns/fire, fluff, protective!erik, descriptions of pain, reader is german but there’s no further description than vague references WC: 2.7k

A/N: This went a little off of the request but I hope you still like it and I’m sorry for how long it took!

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

She was too much like her brother in a lot of ways, but at the same time, they couldn’t be more different. Where Erik could command any room he walked into, she blended, finding a home in the shadows where she could be hidden. He exuded confidence and a suave attitude that could charm anyone. She was meek, shy but with a power bubbling under the surface that felt like an even bigger threat than any her brother could come up with.

Erik shot first and asked questions later, Y/N wouldn’t ask, she would get all the answers she needed with a single look and then dispose of the trash without so much as a flick of her wrist. While Erik controlled metal, Y/N controlled pain.

Logan met the brother and sister duo long before the mutants were fractured. He noted how beautiful she was, even when he only glanced at her through his peripheral vision. She was curvy, with a belly and plump thighs. He told them to go fuck themselves.

The next time she saw him, she was alone. She seemed lopsided without her brother beside her, incomplete. Logan saw the way her hackles raised when Charles screamed at him to leave, calling him a liar. He saw how she flinched when Erik was mentioned.

Wolverine knew what happened between them, the rift that hadn’t ever been healed, even after her death in the far future. He was stunned by her beauty then, finally seeing her in the flesh after so many years, alive and well. Logan pulled her to the side as soon as they were alone, embracing her. Y/N tried to push him off but when she felt his pain, the raw burning like his nerves were on fire, she wrapped her soft arms around him, easing him.

“Stay alive.” He told her. “Do whatever you have to, you have to live.” He pleaded before he was pulled back to the future but not without kissing her like it was the last time. He stole her breath away as he poured every ounce of love as he could into her lips.

When Logan strolled into the Manor many years after that kiss, Y/N stayed away from him. He was so much younger, so much more whole. She could see now the pieces of him that would break away over the years and it hurt her. She knew what was going to happen to him, what had happened to him. But he cornered her eventually.

“You seem to already know who I am.” She shivered when she heard his voice call out to her from the infirmary door.

“You made a very big impression on the school.” Her accent had long since disappeared, snuffed out by the need to be hidden, to be safe. She didn’t look at him, instead concentrating on cataloguing the new medical supplies that had been delivered the day before.

The mutant huffed, clearly not content with her answer. “You avoid me like the plague while everyone else is indifferent.” Her eyes flicked up to him briefly.

“Maybe I have decided that I already don’t like you. You did threaten to abandon a young mutant on the side of the road.” He scoffed at the mention of Rogue.

“She had it comin’.” He shrugged. “So what is it exactly that you do?” His large body lounged against the one hospital bed in the room. She couldn’t help but glance up at him. He was physically older, slight grey in his sideburns, more lines on his face but his eyes weren’t as sad, the deep brown swirling with emotions he was trying desperately to tamp down but hadn’t learned how yet.

He was still incredibly handsome though. He walked with a confidence that came from youth, that blind faith in himself and his strength that made him cocky and untouchable. Y/N turned away. “I’m the school’s nurse, I thought that was pretty obvious, given I’m in the infirmary.”

Logan grunted, crossing his thick arms over his chest, holding a beer bottle between two of his fingers. “I was talkin about yer power, bub.” That made her smile, the corner of her lips turning up. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but she missed his attitude.

“I control pain. It’s useful.” She shrugs off the question with a half answer. She picked up the last of the supplies on the infirmary bed, making a note on her clipboard before putting them away.

She heard him huff and a silence settled over the room but it was not awkward or uncomfortable, it was just… silence. The beer in his bottle swished as he gulped down the last of the brew. The supply closet’s door swung shut with a creak and she chanced another look at the man.

She couldn’t ignore the way his muscles bulged so she forced herself to turn away. It would do her no good to get involved with him in any capacity, even if her heart screamed for him. Logan took the hint, leaving the infirmary with a grumble and a glance back at her.

It was impossible to completely avoid someone like Logan, even in a school as large as the academy. He seemed to appear in moments when her guard was down, lurking in the corner of her vision like a ghost. His blue eyes locked onto her whenever they would be in the same room, both undressing her and observing her with some morbid fascination.

But no matter how hard she tried, her lips still ached from that kiss all those years ago and her heart burned to know what would become of them in the future.

——————

“You seem awfully close with the professor.” The manor was silent, a much needed reprieve after the long day of classes in Logan’s case and lots of skinned knees in Y/N’s. An ancient record player crooned in the corner of the huge sitting room, bathing its two occupants in pleasant song which was quickly becoming more of a lullaby. The older mutant sat on one end of the couch with his companion lying across the rest, a thick book propped up on her chest and her sock-clad feet dangerously close to his lap.

She let the statement sink in for a moment as Logan took another sip from his glass of bourbon he had pilfered from Charles’s not-so-well hidden stash. “Are you asking me something or just talking out loud?” He rolled his eyes.

“What do you think darlin’?” He snapped but his usual condescending tone was replaced with a sarcastic tilt to his voice. Her lips quirked up and she shut her book, letting it rest on her sternum as she met his gaze.

“Yes, Charles and I are very close. I’m the same way with Hank and Alex, we’ve all been here since the beginning.” She knew her answer was one that was far more simple than he would’ve liked but she wouldn’t give him the full story unless he asked.

Logan dropped his left hand from where it had been resting upon his chest onto his meaty thigh, the edge of his palm now just grazing the tip of her fuzzy socks. “Are you fucking him?” The question was so unexpected that Y/N choked on her own spit. She shot up as she coughed, tucking her legs beneath her. Too caught up in catching her breath, she missed the way his eyes dulled at the loss of her closeness.

“Scheiße.” The German naturally slipped from her lips and she thumped her chest with a closed fist. “God no! Having a telepath as a friend is bad enough, I could never imagine dating one.” He smirked, letting out a pleased chuff.

“So…” He prompted. Y/N leaned back into the couch. They now sat side-by-side and Logan was able to study her profile as she eased the drink from his hand, finishing it off in one gulp.

Her face was solemn, haunted by something he couldn’t quite place, even in his many decades of life. She looked as if she were in mourning. “I traded one overprotective brother for another.”

——————

Logan’s legs ached as he ran, the smoke from the fires that raged around him singed his senses. Flames licked up the sides of the manor as gunshots still echoed across the fields, even if the fighting had already stopped. They had come in the dead of night, guns and torches lighting their way.

The school had always been a risk, especially being so close to town. But young mutants needed a place to go. It was inevitable that those who hated them would try to run them out, they all thought they had more time.

It was her voice that pulled Logan from his retreat. Laced with tears, she was comforting one of the older students as he nursed a severe burn to his arm. They were laid out in the grass which was still damp from the early morning dew. Y/N cupped his face with glowing hands and Logan could clearly see the pain that rippled through her.

More students gathered around them, each with an injury of their own, each begging for some kind of relief. Exhaustion painted her face as her body wound tight with agony. The ground shook as Logan dropped to his knees next to her.

“Give me their pain.” She was withering away right before his eyes, driven only by a need to protect, to give the children comfort in the only way she knew how. She shook her head and instead moved to a girl who was no older than 13. A flesh wound cut across her leg, the edges of the wound burned with residual gunpowder.

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips as she took the girl’s pain and Logan watched as the woman began to wither away. She was killing herself.

“Give me their fucking pain.” He yanked her hands away from the girl and laid them on his broad chest. She thrashed in his hold in an attempt to pull away but he wouldn’t budge.

Her eyes met his and she froze. This was the moment that he had warned her about so many years before, a premonition that he would never remember. But to give her pain, her gift, to someone else, she couldn’t even fathom it. “Please.” He begged, squeezing her hands in his own. She was weakening, she doubted she could stop him even if she tried.

Logan felt like he was burning alive as gunshots ripped through his arms and legs. And yet he smiled at her and in that moment, something shifted between them. “That’s it doll face.” Heat rushed to her cheeks and it wasn’t because of the fire that still blazed behind them.

——————

The sounds of power tools and hammers were almost constant nowadays as the mutants worked together to rebuild the crumbling school. Y/N strolled happily through the halls, the walls still blackened from the fire. The students were gone, taken home by their families or sent to safe houses around the country, leaving only a few teachers who wanted to lend a hand.

“They’re working quite quickly.” Charles noted from his place where the greenhouse used to sit. A handful of people, including Logan, Hank, Alex and Rogue among others were steadily building a large room across the way- a brand new library.

Y/N chuckled as she handed him a cup of lemonade. “They have a goal to achieve. This school is important to all of us.” He grinned slyly at his long time friend.

“I’m sure one of them has another motivation for working so hard.” His blue eyes flicked to the love bite that peaked from her collar.

“Shut up.” She muttered with a kick to his wheelchair, Charles laughed under his breath as she walked away to the man responsible for her tender steps and slight limp. As much as Charles loved to tease, he loved even more that she was smiling again and the pain that always seemed to radiate from her mind was now a dull ache that was easily chased away by the touch of her lover.

As soon as she was near enough, Logan abandoned his work, his full attention turned to her. Her laugh carried through the summer breeze like a bird song as he wrapped her up in his arms, lathering her face in kisses. The others rolled their eyes and continued their work as the couple embraced.

“I see my absence was not missed.” Erik’s cool tone froze Charles’s blood.

Rage rolled off the mutant in waves as he glared at the man who was all over his precious sister. His knuckles turned pale and Charles could almost hear the way his muscles tensed. “Erik, what a surprise. I thought you were still on the run.” He looked up at his old friend though he almost didn’t recognise him. His eyes were so much older, his soul so much darker but yet, it was still him.

Y/N had yet to notice her brother, too wrapped up in the arms of her lover but as she pressed another kiss to his cheek, Erik’s anger mounted. He knew what Logan was, knew exactly what pain he was capable of inflicting. “How long?” He growled.

“A couple months though I suspect that Logan had been pining for her since the moment he met her.” Perhaps it was optimistic of Charles to divulge details of their relationship to Erik, but he was a romantic at heart. “Logan saved her life, Erik.”

Her laughter did nothing to ease the furrow in his brow but the way that Logan grabbed at her ample backside absolutely did something.

“Logan?” Y/N asked curiously as the man in her arms suddenly froze and his eyes widened almost comically. “Are you ok?” She cupped his cheek and pain unlike anything she had ever imagined rocketed through her veins. Her bones felt like they were twisting in upon themselves, severing nerves and destroying her body from the inside out. She could feel Logan’s flesh move unnaturally as she pulled him closer to her.

“Logan!” Her hands pressed harder into his jaw in an attempt to steal the violent sensation from him but still, his chest echoed with his suffering.

“Erik enough!” Her head whipped around, as did the attentions of all the other mutants gathered around. The fury in his eyes was like nothing she had seen before, as if he was looking at a roach he had crushed under his boot. His knuckles paled with the force of his power.

A howl of pain escaped Logan’s lips, finally breaking Y/N from her trance. “Release him or I’ll fucking break you.” She snarled and for just a moment, Erik faltered.

His hold wavered briefly but it was enough for Charles to grab his wrist and completely break his focus. “This is beyond childish.” He scolded as Y/N pulled her partner behind her but her deadly glare remained firmly on her brother. Erik didn’t bother to respond, instead his shoulders dropped in surrender and Logan collapsed, the pain finally dissipating.

There was a flurry of movement as she fell to her knees and the others rushed to make sure they were alright. “She’s happy, she’s safe. Leave it alone.” But Erik ignored his friend. His Y/N was gone and perhaps she had been for years. This woman that threatened him when he hurt a boy, as he had done dozens of times in the past with no fight from her, was not the girl he grew up with.

She stood up straight all on her own. She didn’t need Erik to balance her nor Logan to push her up, perhaps that’s why her brother slipped out in the dead of night, leaving behind the one thing that kept him tethered to his humanity. Y/N would awaken the next morning in the protective hold of the man she loved and find a single coin, rusted with age and stained with dried blood on her nightstand. She knew that she would not hear from him again, Erik was dead, only Magneto remained.

The worst decision indeed.

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 5 months

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Can I see Furina, Navia, Lynette, and Yae Miko dealing with their S/O who wears a mask all the time and never seen your face before? S/O got hurt badly protecting them and they took S/O mask off and see what S/O looks like and help them.

(Genshin Impact) Furina, Navia, and Lynette with a S/O who wears a mask

This is the way. I'd do Yae but my brain is at maximum capacity writing for the three, so remind me to write Yae later!

POTENTIAL POST-ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS FOR THE FONTAINE CHARACTERS UNDER THE CUT!

Furina had become very used to the sight of her S/O's mask.

It was reminiscent of a theatre mask, fittingly enough. The holes for the eyes were completely black, and there was no expression for the mouth.

No one could identify what S/O was feeling, other than determining it by voice alone.

Many people found it suspicious, but she wasn't one to judge.

Especially since Furina herself wore a metaphorical mask for the past few centuries.

And besides, there were far more suspicious people in Tevyat than the one person just covering their face.

Furina had grown to love S/O since they did the same for her. They cared for the person underneath the facade, and Furina did the same.

During their travels, they had come under attack by rogue Meka and were caught off guard.

Although Furina cannot not die, S/O very much could, and had gotten terribly injured during the skirmish.

===

(Furina) "S/O!"

Furina quickly dispatched the last Meka with her vision, a burst of Hydro sending it tumbling into the waters below in pieces.

S/O had finished off their attackers with a sword bisecting the machine. However, they were breathing heavily and leaning against a nearby rock, sliding down.

The mask betrayed nothing of what they felt, but she could tell they were hurt.

Panic began to set in Furina's head, quickly scrambling to help. Her eyes glowed a bright blue before a familiar appeared next to S/O, healing the worst of their injuries.

(Furina) "S/O, are you okay?!"

Her usual bravado was absent though it was slowly starting to come back when she saw their breathing begin to steady itself.

(S/O) "Could....be worse, thanks."

Furina's hand placed itself onto her chest, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

(Furina) "Thank goodness! Come now, we shall get ourselves some rest and-"

A red stream trickled down S/O's face, coming from underneath the mask and catching her attention.

(Furina) "Your head! Allow me to-"

Furina's hand stopped itself as it quickly reached for their mask. She had never seen S/O without it, and she wasn't sure if they wanted to be seen with it off.

Silently answering her, S/O's hand gently reached up to her arm, and nodding.

(S/O) "Not a word of this to anyone."

Furina gave them a weary smile.

(Furina) "It depends on how handsome/pretty you are, S/O."

Hearing their pained chuckle, Furina slowly took off the mask and saw their face for the first time. She couldn't help but stare for a few seconds before moving to clean the blood from their head.

It scared her so much to see them hurt, but it was also comforting to see them give her a reassuring smile back, and to see those eyes staring back into hers for the first time.

(S/O) "...D-Don't just stare at me like that, Furina."

(Furina) "How could I not? You look incredible, simply marvelous!"

(S/O) "Even with blood gushing out of me?"

(Furina) "Hah, especially so. It makes you look rather dashing."

S/O could tell she was joking, as her hands were still gripping tightly onto theirs from worry.

(S/O) "Once I actually look presentable and not beat up, you can stare all you like."

(Furina) "I will hold you to that. Now, let's get you cleaned up!"

Furina not so subtly stared at S/O on the way back, smiling back when S/O noticed her and broke off eye contact. How cute!

Navia did raise an eyebrow at S/O upon first meeting, but she quickly became accustomed to it.

It's not like she dressed all that subtly herself after all.

And besides, what matters the most about a person is what's on the inside!

And to Navia, S/O was one of the most trustworthy people you could meet, weird mask aside.

She did not pry on their reason for wearing it, only wanting to ask when the time seemed right.

But that time came quicker than she thought after a dangerous encounter with bandits.

===

(Navia) "Feeling lucky?!-"

Her umbrella gun's blast blew away the ground the bandits were standing on, sending them flying back.

After seeing them retreat after dealing with the remaining ruffians, she smirked in satisfaction.

(Navia) "Serves you punks right, now get out of here! Hah! S/O, did you-"

Turning back to brag about her skills to S/O, she suddenly noticed that they weren't responding, and worst of all, they were on the ground with red on their hands.

Navia stopped breathing for a split second before nearly sprinting over to them, quickly lifting them up.

(Navia) "No! No no no, please, no!"

(S/O) "...N-Navia-"

(Navia) "Please, stay with me! I can't lose you too!"

Navia's hand brushed against the side of their head, her eyes welling up with tears as her heart raced.

S/O's hands wiped away the tears from her face before speaking up.

(S/O) "I'll live. They just grazed me. Promise."

(Navia) "Y-You...You better...!"

S/O slowly reached for their mask and took it off to look Navia in the eye. A small amount of blood came from their lips, but they thankfully displayed no signs of bleeding out.

Navia stared wide eyed at the sight of their face, taking it in. This was the first time she had ever seen them with it off, and this was not the time she was expecting to.

(S/O) "S-See? Heh, perfectly fine...OW!"

Navia suddenly grabbed their face, squishing it repeatedly with one hand as she rubbed off the blood with her thumb.

(Navia) "Why...Why in the world did you not take that off sooner?! You're simply breathtaking!"

(S/O) "Becushyewd'dewdis!" (Because you'd do this!)

They could not form the sentence correctly with how Navia's hands were squishing their cheeks together, as if she were squeezing a ball.

S/O gently grabbed Navia's wrist and lifted it off their face, chuckling lightly.

(S/O) "Not that I don't mind your hand on me, but can you at least do so without feeling me up like a toy?"

(Navia) "A-Ah, my apologies! You're hurt as well, so we need to get you to a doctor!"

Throughout the trip, S/O caught Navia taking several glances to examine their face.

Lynette had kept her eye on S/O the moment she heard rumors about a masked individual going around Fontaine.

She had learned to watch out for any signs of danger in a person, especially if it concerned herself or Lyney.

What had shocked her the most was that S/O had displayed no reason to distrust them, other than the mask.

In fact, they were one of the most trusting people she had met, looking into any information about them, nothing about their past was particularly alarming.

So that meant their reasons for wearing the mask was less to conceal an identity and more personal.

The two had gotten to know each other after S/O was found taking care of a few stray cats around the city, both of them quietly enjoying their time.

After that, it became a lunch or two, and a few conversations here and there.

Eventually, it blossomed into something more as the two spent time, neither of them fully revealing everything about their past.

S/O didn't pry, so Lynette didn't either. At least not after she got to know the person behind the mask.

But after S/O had saved her from rather vicious wildlife...

===

S/O and Lynette took a moment to breathe, escaping to higher ground from the creatures attacking them.

(Lynette) "That was too close. S/O, thanks for-"

Her ears turned sideways as she realized there was blood falling from S/O's head.

(Lynette) "You're bleeding! Sit down!"

(S/O) "O-Ow...No need to tell me twice."

S/O almost collapsed before Lynette caught them, slowly making them lean against a nearby rock as she grabbed their mask.

She took it off without thinking and was stunned by seeing their face for the first time.

Her ears immediately straightened up as the words got caught in her throat. Lynette almost forgot what she was doing until seeing the blood trickle down.

S/O made no motion to stop her, only giving her a small smile that made her heart race even faster. After cleaning the injury on their head, she averted her gaze.

(Lynette) "...Sorry. I should have asked first."

(S/O) "You were worried, so you acted. If anything, I'm flattered."

Hearing their voice so clearly was messing with her head. To finally connect their soothing voice to a face was almost unnatural to her. Part of her was convinced that she'd never actually see it, at least not this soon.

(S/O) "You told me quite a bit about yourself and Lyney already, I think it's about time I returned the favor, anyway."

Lynette returned their smile, albeit hers was not as big.

(Lynette) "I suppose that's a fair trade."

She was finally able to look them in the eye for a few seconds before putting the mask back into their hands.

(Lynette) "...You should have that mask off more often."

(S/O) "I'll do that if you promise me you'll do the same...As long as it's only the two of us."

Her ears twitched for a brief moment, processing what they were asking.

She sincerely doubted at this point they were the type to blabber about anything they were told, something she was thankful for.

And if she got to see the true them, maybe that wasn't the most outrageous demand they could make.

Lynette had seen worse deals, anyway.

(Lynette) "Only for the two of us."

S/O responded by holding her hand tightly, and she responded in kind.

(Lynette) "First, we need to get back to the city. I've had enough outdoors for today."

(S/O) "Heh, agreed."

On the way back, Lynette could not keep her eyes off their face and felt a tad disappointed watching them put it back on as they reached civilization again.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #furina x reader #navia x reader #lynette x reader #furina genshin #navia genshin impact #lynette genshin impact

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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

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Surprise husbands + "How are you real?" ; requested by @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff!

They may not have planned to get married, or even wanted it all too much at the beginning, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to treat each other right. It was rough going, with both of them coming out of relationships and having secret identities, but time had softened the hurt feelings and allowed them to actually get to know each other.

And Danny, Duke has discovered, is a really good husband.

Neither of them ever saw themselves as married at 20, but sometimes life throws horrible curses at you and the embodiment of balance and life and death swoops in to save your life. Via marriage.

His life is weird, okay? Duke has made his peace with it.

The thing is, if they had met naturally and started off as friends, Duke could see himself falling for Danny and asking him to marry him in a far off future. Instead, they’re doing everything backwards: married, then going on dates to know each other, and finally feeling close enough to be friends.

It helps that Danny does his best to communicate and that helps Duke find the words he needs as well.

He’s sweet, too, so kind and doting and affectionate. Like a really lovable cat, honestly. Duke’s never been cuddled so much in his life and he’s loving every minute of it.

He… might be falling in love with his husband. What a revelation.

“Duke?”

He blinks, looking up from his half-empty plate, pulled out of his thoughts suddenly. Tim and Dick stare at him, concerned, and he realizes he’s missed the entire conversation because he was so preoccupied thinking about Danny. In his defense, it was their one year anniversary the night before and Danny had kissed him for the first time after a date night spent playing video games and talking shit about their respective rogues.

Tim snaps a finger in front of his face, and Duke startles. He got distracted by his Danny Thoughts again.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You okay? You’ve been out of it all day,” Dick says, clearly concerned.

“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s all good. Just… adjusting.”

“To what? Did something happen?”

Duke shrugs, scooping up another forkful of pasta to shove in his mouth. “Yeah, I… this is going to sound kind of stupid, but I think I’m in love with my husband.”

Tim, taking an ill-timed drink, chokes and spits out his Zesti. Dick springs back, trying to get out of the spray zone but doesn’t move far, shocked still by Duke’s words.

“Oh, yeah,” Duke realizes, “I didn’t tell you guys, did I?”

“You’re married?!” Tim shrieks as Dick clutches at his chest, eyes wide.

“You didn’t tell me?” Dick asks, offended.

“Seriously? That’s what you focus on?”

Duke smiles as they begin to bicker. They do it constantly, but this time it’s halfhearted, as if they’re just going through the motions of something familiar to distract themselves from the bomb he’s dropped on them.

In all fairness, Duke did forget that he didn’t tell them that he’s married to Danny. He’s also only mentioned Danny once or twice and heavily implied that Danny was just a classmate at GCU. And then forgot that he didn’t tell them, assuming that they’d figure it out eventually being Batman trained detectives, after all.

Well.

Oops.

Clearly that is not the case. Duke hurries to finish his pasta before Tim and Dick finish their joint freak out and get their senses back together enough to interrogate him. He can’t escape it, but he refuses to have this discussion with an empty stomach.

He just barely manages to scrape the last mouthful off the plate when his fork is being yanked out of his hands. Tim and Dick close in on him, standing to either side of him, trapping him in place, and look at him with knife-sharp smiles.

Here we go, Duke thinks tiredly, and resigns himself to clearing up this misunderstanding.

Somehow, he manages to explain the situation (I got cursed, he saved my life, we ended up married because magic is bullshit, he treats me so well) and Tim and Dick both agree to not hunt down Danny to show him the wrath of older brothers on one condition: Danny has to join them for a family dinner.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch everyone up on your… situation,” Dick says, pulling on his jacket to head out. Tim is already on his phone, no doubt telling someone already.

“Great,” Duke says, unenthused. “You’ll also be answering all the questions because I’m not in the mood. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to figure out a day that works for all of us, and then I’m going to kick my husband’s ass in Mario Cart.”

He walks out the door, grinning as he hears them scramble after him, then twists the ring on his finger (not a wedding ring, but a magic portal making gift) and steps into the portal. It closes quietly behind him, leaving him in Danny’s lair, a comfortable, spacious house with high ceilings and little bits of his personality scattered about. There are soft rugs with geometric patterns on them, star maps on the wall, stained glass windows that throw colors across the floor, and a giant couch and pillow pit in the living room.

Danny’s asleep in it, curled up and looking completely at peace. Duke toes off his shoes and carefully makes his way over, footsteps silent so he doesn’t wake him up, all plans of Mario Cart fading away instantly.

Danny doesn’t get much sleep, with the stress of school and an internship and ghost fights to worry about. It’s why his lair is so quiet and comfortable; it’s what he needs, and he doesn’t let anyone else in without invitation, rare as it is.

Duke is allowed to waltz right in thanks to the ring Danny gave him. It never stops making him feel overwhelmed by how much trust Danny puts in him to allow him unlimited access to what is his only true sanctuary, letting his lair be a place of safety and respite for Duke as well.

He crawls into the pillow pit, There’s no way to do this without waking Danny up since he can’t fly, so he isn’t surprised to see Danny blink his eyes open, still looking soft and content. He smiles when he sees Duke, reaching a hand out to him that Duke gladly takes, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his palm.

Sitting up, Danny tilts his head up in a silent request. Duke happily obliges, still reeling over the fact that he’s allowed to do this! He can kiss his husband whenever he wants!

Yeah, he’s going to be riding that high for a while.

“Hey,” Danny murmurs, sleepy and quietly pleased to see him.

“Hi honey,” Duke returns fondly, “Have a nice nap?”

Danny nods, leaning into Duke and closing his eyes again. “Mhm. How long are you staying? I wanna cuddle.”

“I got nothing going on today. I’m all yours, baby.”

“C’mon,” Danny tries to tug him down. Duke goes slowly, covering Danny’s body with his own, but holds himself with one hand before he blankets his husband completely.

“Wait. There’s something we need to talk about.”

Immediately, the sleepy haze is fading from Danny’s eyes, leaving him alert. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Not really? You know how we agreed to keep our marriage a secret until we weren’t in danger anymore and all those cultists and sorcerers were taken care of?”

“...Yes?”

“Well.” Duke sucks in a breath and offers a bashful smile. “Guess who forgot to tell people we were married after that whole mess was dealt with?”

The nervousness clears from Danny’s gaze as he stares up at Duke with incredulous amusement. “No. No way.”

“Yeah. Kinda dropped a bomb on them and they started freaking out over me being married. Anyways, they want you to come to dinner?”

“When?”

Duke leans back, sitting on his heels. “Let me check.” He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to the group chat asking for a day they could have a family meal to meet his husband.

His phone is bombarded with texts and calls immediately until Barbara, bless her entire soul, forcibly mutes all of them and puts in a poll with a few dates, setting the poll to close in 24 hours.

“Okay, well, they’re deciding now, but probably soon.”

Danny nods. “Alright. I know these aren’t normal circumstances at all, but I’m so excited to meet the Bats.”

“You do not mean that after hearing all my stories about them.”

“No, I do!” Danny laughs, surging up to wrap his arms around Duke and pull him back down to lay among the giant pillows with him. “They sound nice!”

“The Bats sound nice?!” Duke repeats in horror. “Did you hit your head?”

“They do sound nice! You talk about them so fondly, and yeah they have problems and are dysfunctional, but they’re heroes. Of course they have problems. Even with all their baggage, they’re kind. And you clearly love them, so I do too.”

It’s hard to resist the urge to hug Danny tight enough to make him squeak while peppering his face with kisses, so Duke doesn’t. He just goes and does it, because he’s allowed to shower his husband (!) with affection (!!!) as much as he pleases.

“How are you real?” he says against the corner of Danny’s lips. “How are you so perfect! To me specifically! Honey, if we weren’t already married, I’d be going down on one knee right now.”

“I mean, you still can. We never got a proper wedding either. Think if we offer them a chance to help plan our wedding, they’ll forgive us for secretly being married for so long?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Duke says. He’s already giddy, just imagining what their wedding will look like, what song they’ll play for their first dance, where they’ll have the ceremony… He should create a Pinterest account to start putting ideas together.

Later, though. He wants to woo Danny properly and take him on so many dates.

Dates which include dinner with the Waynes and Wayne-adjacents, apparently.

“You sure you’re okay with meeting them over dinner?” he asks, just to be sure. He knows how intense they can be, even when pretending to be normal civilians. It took him years to get used to them, himself, and he doesn’t want to push Danny into doing something he’s not ready to do.

Danny cups Duke’s face in his hands and gives him a quick, reassuring kiss. “I’m sure. If nothing else, it’ll be fun to see how long it takes for them to realize I’m not fully human.”

“I really am glad it’s you.”

“Yeah, me too. I’d choose you all over again if given the choice.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Duke laughs, wrapping an arm around Danny’s waist.

“Can we nap now? Now that you’re here and holding me, it’s taking everything I’ve got to stay awake.”

“Yeah, we can nap now.” Duke settles into the pillows, Danny cradled in his arms and closes his eyes to bask in the quiet easiness of it all.

He really couldn’t ask for a better husband, unexpected as he was. The others will see that too, once they meet him. It’s impossible to not love Danny once you meet him; Duke knows this all too well.

He loves his husband.

And his husband loves him back.

Duke is fully prepared to keep making that choice for the rest of his life.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #it was such a struggle to keep this one short but i WILL do it. it will stay below 3k words. i promised myself this #wasnt too sure what the surprise husbands trope was so i winged it lol. i hope you enjoy reading this anyways!!#its all about choosing love and choosing each other and taking care of each other in a bad situation #turning it into something good and soft and kind bc neither of u want to hurt each other and its nice to have someone always by ur side #its abt choosing each other every day!!#these two are out here speed running love while doing it backwards. icons.#thanks for the prompt!!

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queers-gambit · 5 months

Text

The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#daemon #prince daemon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen x f!reader #daemon targaryen x female!reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen angst #prince daemon targaryen x fem!reader #prince daemon targaryen x f!reader #prince daemon targaryen x female!reader #prince daemon targaryen imagine #prince daemon targaryen fanfiction #prince daemon targaryen angst

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fangsandfeels · 8 months

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I think about protective Astarion a lot:

I strongly support the idea that he is Tav's protector as much as Tav is his. He is more closed about discussing his concerns with others - even on happily concluding the romance, he maintains his coy behavior and rebuffs all attempts at prying. But as always, there is a lot going on under the layers.

- I believe he stops seeing Tav as his protector/meatshield even a bit prior to the confession. He has always been more comfortable with “I’ll watch your back if you watch mine” arrangement, but he only fully embraces it after either Tav takes his side in his argument with Araj or helps him murder the orthon and learn more about his scars. Before that, he still subconsciously relies on Tav for safety to the point of rationalizing the necessity to do what he doesn’t want to do just because Tav told him to.

- His best and usual protective side is that he is always there to catch Tav when they fall. To drag them to safety, help them get up, and keep them going. He is there to talk and hear them out when something is weighing down on them. He drops all this flamboyant flirtatiousness he wears when discussing his relationship with others the very instant Tav needs him. He is calm, firm, and attentive because Tav needs him. Being strong for someone else is a very new feeling for him, but it also comes naturally. He doesn't like seeing his partner in pain, but finding himself as someone's source of strength and support is life-changing for him. He likes to realize that he is capable of caring about someone. That part of him is still alive. Like no other, Astarion knows that sometimes you can’t slay all the monsters and terrors that haunt your loved one, but you can be there for them when they fight their own battles. And that’s what he does. His approach is similar to Karlach’s in that regard: if you can’t walk, I’ll carry you, if you need a hand, you have mine, you you need to talk, my ears are all yours.

- After he stops seeing Tav as a protector, he is much more aware of Tav’s vulnerability. Tav isn’t invincible. Tav gets hurt. Tav can be in danger. It becomes particularly glaring when it’s revealed that they all haven’t turned yet because a rogue illithid holds their lives in its webbed hands. A rogue illithid who was lying about a cure all this time. Who never had any intention of removing the tadpole. Who saw ceremorphosis as something good. The Emperor has almost the same hold on Tav and all of them as Cazador on his spawns. It would have puppeteered them into doing its bidding hadn’t it been spending its energy on resisting the brain. This is why Astarion calls Tav a “mindflayer thrall” during their argument. Because this is what they are as long as their safety depends on the Emperor’s good mood. It’s not their fault, really. But Astarion clearly has been thinking about it and worried about it. He probably wished not to be stuck between a rock and a hard place for once, not having to choose between two evils, to be strong enough to get them both out of it. So, he doesn’t exactly lie or try to manipulate Tav when he says he wants to keep them both safe. He wants it. He hates to be helpless, but what he hates even more is to watch Tav trying to keep their spirits up and looking for a way out of their predicament while thing just invades Tav's dreams or invites itself into their skull whenever it wishes. He hates wondering what will happen if the Emperor stops playing nice one day. Oh, if only he could be stronger.

- In general, it seems that he is most riled up and protective of Tav when there is a particular type of threat. Tav can handle themselves in a fight. They take a beating sometimes, but they bounce back (what can’t be said about the other guy) and if they don’t find a fight, the fight finds them. Astarion knows it and he doesn’t really mind. He loves the thrill: his spawn endings made it clear that the man embraces the chaos of making decisions and choosing paths with a smile. Danger is part of the fun. It makes his heart beat.

- He generally does his best to be strong for Tav, just like they stay strong for him. But there are also moments when Tav is in danger, and Astarion sees red. And I imagine it’s not only when Tav ends up at the death’s door. It’s also when something directly challenges Tav’s autonomy. A crazy drow wants to run experiments on Tav? Absolutely not, what the fuck? Even if Tav agrees, Astarion is still uncomfortable with the thought and doesn't hide it. Had Araj tried to force her experimentation on the unwilling Tav or trick them into participating, she would have been turned into a dagger cushion very quickly. Cazador calls Tav cattle (another lover to follow Astarion and lose everything, even their right to their soul and body, because of him)? The mere thought of it, the association, the hint at him being a failure dragging his lover down with him makes Astarion lose his composure and just go for the jugular. The idea of Tav enduring the same abuse or being forcibly changed terrifies him. When Tav does it to themselves, it hurts already. However, if someone does it to Tav without letting Tav have any say, then Astarion would go absolutely feral. If that someone can be stabbed, they will be stabbed. If they can’t be stabbed, Astarion WILL find a way to stab them and eviscerate them. Then, regardless of whether Tav is alright or not, Astarion will experience an emotional breakdown that he will then refuse to discuss with anyone else. He has come a long way, but certain negative emotions are still too much to handle.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 #astarion x tav

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happyhauntt · 3 months

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famous last words — james potter

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: you and james are sworn enemies. you quite like it that way.

─── pairing: james potter x quidditch player!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, banter, swearing. if you're a reader of my cedric series oh, captain! then you might find this familiar, it's a reworked version of chapter three. this was so much fun honestly i love sassy stuff like this.

─── word count: 2.1k.

BY THE TIME THE TRAIN WHISTLES ITS ARRIVAL AT HOGSMEADE STATION, all you really want to do is go to bed. The golden glow of warmth has suffused your bones completely, lulling you into a delightfully sleepy state. You're curled up against the window when your friend Beth jostles you awake and practically carries you off the train, where you are utterly unsurprised to learn that the weather is terrible.

The downpour does a spectacular job at waking you up. Droplets of freezing rain slip past the collar of your shirt and down your spine before you manage to pull your cardigan up over your head. A disgruntled scowl tugs at your lips as you race ahead of Beth to get a space on one of the carriages. Once you are safely situated in the dry, you look out into the rain, expecting to see Beth scarpering up the platform right behind you. Instead, she's sauntering towards the carriage, a wide smirk on her face, happy and dry beneath one of the big black umbrellas Hagrid is handing out on the platform.

You frown, folding your arms over your chest, feeling distinctly soggy. Beth climbs into the carriage, giggling as she sits down beside you. You merely stick your tongue out at her.

"Hey," Beth says, folding the umbrella back up before raising her hands in defence, accidentally splashing you both with rainwater, "you're the one who ran away. Don't blame me for being more observant."

"I reject that," you reply indignantly. Beth offers up a hair tie from her wrist and you take it, still scowling, to tie your damp hair into a messy ponytail. "I am absolutely observant. Just not... all the time." Which basically means where sports isn't involved. Teachers have noted in their reports that you're easily distracted in class, with a mind that tends to wander rather than focus on the task at hand. Your mother used to call it butterfly brain. Thoughts light as air, settling down on one flower for a few moments until a prettier, more interesting flower comes into view. She didn't mean to make you feel bad about that, but it doesn't help when all your teachers are saying the same thing.

The prettier flower is usually Quidditch. With a muggle upbringing, you hadn't been exposed to the brilliance of magic until a mysterious letter appeared on your eleventh birthday (delivered, you recall, stern-faced woman in peculiar emerald robes. If you'd known then that Professor McGonagall's first impression of you would be a wide-eyed child whose front tooth had just been knocked loose by a rogue cricket bat, well, you probably would've died of embarrassment. Now she's your Head of House. And most unfortunately, that's not the only time she's seen you missing a few teeth.) When you got to Hogwarts and saw students playing Quidditch for the first time, whizzing like arrows through the air on actual broomsticks— You'd been in love with the sport ever since.

Almost every corner of your brain is taken up by Quidditch. A hundred different game plans and plays running on repeat. So Beth is totally wrong; you are very observant., and you are never more observant than when your eye is on the prize.

This time, though, the prize was shelter. Skittering off through the downpour to get to the carriage without properly checking your surroundings wasn't the smartest route, but it worked. Sort of.

Your pride hurts a little bit.

Beth's just about done laughing at you when a knock on the carriage exterior catches your attention. A familiar face appears at the door. "Is there any room in here?" James Potter's smile is crooked, and his dark hair is damp and floppy from the rain, water dripping from the strands into his face. Bright eyes dart back forth between you and Beth, and suddenly you remember that only almost every corner of your brain is occupied by Quidditch.

There's a stubborn little spot right in the middle, little more than a speck, really — but it's filled with nothing else but James fucking Potter.

"There was a mass exodus from the train as soon as it arrived," he continues as his glasses start to fog up, "and the only other carriage left is full of second-years."

Oh, you feel that one in your soul. Second-years are okay, sometimes, but usually they're excitable, too ready for the start of another year at magic school, and thus only bearable in small doses. By third year, the excitement is all about getting to choose which classes you take, and you understand this to a degree (you chose Divination, which sounded cool at the time but was an absolute fucking mistake, because you might enjoy the spooky muggle stuff but predicting the deaths of all your friends is not fucking fun, no matter how good your end-of-year grade was for it ) but the novelty quickly wears off.

You suppose that's why James has chosen to risk his life by sitting in a confined space with you, instead. The three of you are well-seasoned veterans of Hogwarts and its bullshit by this point and, as a result, are appropriate company.

The fact that both of you are his teammates is probably a nice bonus, too.

You, however, offer a merciless smirk. James Potter is, without doubt, your worst enemy, and it fills you up with glee to inconvenience him at any opportunity. "You snooze, you lose, Potter. Off to the second-years you go!" You even make a shooing motion, just for good measure.

Beth smacks your arm and rolls her eyes, offering James a pleasant smile. "There's loads of room, ignore them," she says, and while you're busy dramatically rubbing your arm and muttering expletives, James takes a seat on the bench opposite you. Rain hammers against the roof, somehow louder than it was a moment ago, and a self-satisfied grin creeps onto his face as the carriage begins its journey to the castle.

"Where are the rest of the merry morons, then?" You ask, quirking a brow at him. You're pretty sure you can count on one hand the number of times you've seen James without at least one of his comrades in mischief. Frankly, it's rarer than spotting a unicorn in the wild. You wonder if you should take a picture to commemorate the occasion.

He looks sheepish as he pulls his glasses off to wipe away the condensation. "Lost a bet."

He doesn't elaborate, and you don't care enough to ask him to. You've been at school with them long enough to know that, honestly, it's probably best not to know.

Beth reaches out and plucks a stray leaf from your hair. She waves it in your face, tickling your nose gently before letting it flutter to the ground. You slip your hand into hers, linking your fingers together. Beth is soft and sweet when she wants to be, and you're certain there's not a soul in the world who knows you this well. She has wormed her way into your heart, and you'd have to carve it out of your chest to be rid of her now.

"Does anyone know who our captain is yet?" You ask aloud, after a few seconds of silence have passed. You're tired enough to curl up on the floor of the carriage and fall asleep right then and there, lulled by its gentle rocking and pitter-patter of the rain, but you should probably be conversational. There's very little worse than awkward silence, especially with James sitting there, staring at you with that dopey half-smirk on his face.

You want to smack him. You want him to think you're extraordinary. You're not quite sure how to cope with such emotional extremes, but there they are, coexisting at the front of your mind. They war with each other, an itch you can't scratch because if you, you'll keep going until there's blood.

His, preferably.

It's not even that you hate James. Not really. You used to, only a year or so ago, because he made it so easy. With his smug little smile and the skip in his step, with his quips and jokes and way his hair curls over his brow, you'd fucking despised him. He'd set himself up as your rival back in second year, when you made the Gryffindor team at the same time. With the blurred stretch of years between then and now, you can't remember quite how it began, or what he did precisely that sparked this eternal grudge, but what followed is years of goading one another, pushing and pushing and pushing to outdo one another.

The rivalry has made you so much better than you ever could have dreamed. Quidditch is your life and honestly, without James Potter, you're not sure where you'd be with it. Still good, perhaps. But maybe not very nearly the best.

(You'll die before you tell him that, though. Or he will. You're not that picky and he does seem to have a death wish.)

The carriage jolts as one of the wheels dips into a pothole. The thought of skipping the feast entirely sneaking past Professor McGonagall to go straight to your dorm is a tempting prospect. You know Beth won't let you do it, because if she has to sit through Dumbledore's speech then she'll drag you down with her, but it might be worth a shot.

The silence persists for a few more seconds, growing steadily more awkward. When no one responds to your question, you press on. "We should've heard by now, right? Team captains get picked in the summer, and we need a new one because Hilary graduated last year." Do you sound a little bit agitated by your teammates' lack of urgency? Yes. Just a touch. But the look on Beth's face is fucking suspicious, and James... Well. He looks like he'd rather die.

You narrow your eyes. "What are you not telling me? Spit it out, the pair of you."

James coughs once, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he does so. For once the typical arrogance is gone, washed away with the rain. He looks dreadfully uncomfortable, turning bright red as he bashfully says, "Well. Uh. I am, I suppose. The new captain, that is." He has the good sense to look frightened.

You hope, suddenly, that his cough means he caught pneumonia or something. Nothing fatal, obviously, but just enough to put him out of commission for a little while. You don't really mean it (you're not quite as horrible as some people would like to think) because James is one of the best on the team. Sometimes, you'll begrudgingly admit that he's even the best on the team ━ but only if you get to be second best, obviously.

Which is why you're a little shocked, of course, but not surprised. Not surprised at all, because he is good. Even as you sit there, pondering the many ways you could kill him and make it look like an accident, you know he's good. Too fucking good.

Which is why you say, "Tell me you're kidding."

James furrows his brows. "I'm not kidding?"

You can feel Beth's shoulders shaking beside you, trying desperately to smother her amused cackles. James' expression softens a little as he realises this is a joke, sort of, and he begins to grin.

"No, really," you say, this time the hint of a smile forming on your own lips, "tell me you're kidding. I'm begrudgingly proud and all that, because it had to be one of us," you wave your free hand at him, you'll have the captaincy one day, "but also, like, tell me it's a joke."

"Why?"

"Because I'm genuinely considering pushing you out of this carriage."

James shrugs his shoulders, as if to say 'yeah, that's fair.' He gets it, he really does. You love that someone gets it. "It's not a joke, I'm afraid. Better luck next time, though!" He says it in a jolly tone of voice, and oh, you hate him.

That's the thing with the two of you. You're sworn enemies, right, but you make each other better. He tries harder because you light a fire under his arse and bloody hell, you're itching for a chance to burn him, and vice versa.

So you smirk, now. Square your shoulders. You've baited him into a competition, and you are absolutely ready to deliver. "Famous last words, Potter. Famous last words."

#the marauders #marauders era fic #james potter x reader #marauders era fanfiction #james potter #james potter fanfiction #marauders imagine #james potter imagine #* chapter update.

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markliving · 3 months

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A KISS HEALS EVERYTHING

pairing: jason tood x reader

warnings: just fluff, mention of injuries but it's all fine. english is not my first language, so sorry if this have some errors

word count: 1076

masterlist

Jason was a strong man, not only because he was a tall person, but also because of everything he went through in his 23 years. However, it was strong, but not unbeatable. He had discovered this a long time ago, but he still preferred to pretend that nothing had happened, especially this time.

Alfred, however, upon receiving him last night with an open wound, considered serious, and several bruises on his body, made the young man spend the night at the mansion and called you, letting you know that your boyfriend, this time, was not returning to home and asked if you could stop by the mansion in the morning.

The morning after the incident, you entered the doors of the huge mansion, greeted by the butler and a small smile coming from the man. He knew that sooner or later you would arrive, after all, it was like that every time, and it was the only way he found to leave Jason, in some way, quiet.

Damian, who was sitting on the huge sofa in the living room, caressing Titus, after doing a trick that the boy was teaching him, smiled mischievously when he saw you. You were one of the few people that, apparently, he liked, leaving the other brothers a little jealous with the relationship that the two of you created in such a short time, which at first, according to Damian, was just to make fun of his older brother’s, but it became a brother and sister relationship between the two of you.

“Jason again, huh?” you stopped walking as soon as you heard the boy's voice and turned towards him, smiling. “I still wonder every day what it was you saw in him.”

“Love is something misunderstood” you replied, earning a laugh from the other.

You climbed the huge stairs, which led to the top floor, turned to the left side as soon as you reached the top, where there were the rooms of those who lived in the house and also those who had already left, but who were left exactly the way they came out. You went through the first door, which you knew was Tim's, and entered the second one, right next door.

The room was completely dark, the curtains closed, no lamps on, or cell phone lights. It was after ten in the morning, from what you remembered, and if you knew well, at that time Jason would be disturbing someone, you in this case, normally. Apparently Alfred had given him something strong.

“Jason” you called, approaching the bed and sitting on the edge. Now, accustomed to the darkness, you noticed that the man slept without his top on, showing the bandage around his stomach.

You had seen him like this several times, hurt, and every time it was heartbreaking. When you met the man, when he was still Robin, at school, you knew that despite his rogue appearance, Jason had a good heart. And as time passed, and he hadn't been kind to the boy at all, it only helped to confirm what you already thought.

“Jason” you called a little louder, receiving a groan of dissatisfaction from him.

You touched Jason's foot, about to shake it, but you were startled, as was Jason, who jumped when he felt a cold hand touch his foot.

“I thought you died” you commented, mocking the boy and mentally cursing him for the scare he had given you.

“Look who's talking, your hand looks just like one of them” he replied, shifting, sitting, in a position that didn't hurt his abdomen so much.

The night had been long. After spending more than an hour in the cave with Alfred patching him up and receiving a big lecture about how irresponsible he had been on patrol not only by the butler, but also by Bruce, who was looking at the scene in a bit of despair — he needed a very strong painkiller to get it close your eyes and sleep for a few hours, but you didn't count on Alfred calling you for some reason.

“Very funny you.” He showed his tongue. “How are you?” you asked him, worried.

Jason looked down at the bandages on his torso. He wishes he could say that he was used to bruises and the pain he felt, but it was a lie. It seemed that after the Lazarus pit, even though he had gained some resistance, each cut hurt more, not just physical pain, but mental pain, which as time went by was getting better.

"It doesn't hurt that much, I think the medicine is still working." He shrugged.

You climbed completely onto the bed and sat next to him, analyzing his features face to face. You knew it hurt like hell and that he just wanted to maintain his tough-guy pose, but you didn't care, after all, he was right there in front of you.

You were scared to death that one day, just like a few years ago, he would leave, and that feeling, which resided in your heart at times, only left when you heard Jason's voice in front of you, saying that he was fine and that Soon he would be home. But every time you get a call from a family member in the middle of the night, you're pretty sure your heart misses a few beats, and not in a good way.

“I'm sorry” Jason whispered, noticing the melancholy that surrounded you. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to worry you.” He placed one of his hands on his cheek, stroking the area in the form of comfort, receiving a smile in return.

“It's good to know you're okay, I almost had a meltdown when Alfred called me” you said, taking his free hand and placing a kiss on the back of it.

The two of you spent a few minutes looking at each other, trapped in your own thoughts, until Jason spoke again.

“You know... there's a place that's still hurting a lot.” He pouted, putting his plan into action, he knew that a real smile was about to leave your's lips.

“Where?” you frowned, starting to worry a little more.

“Here.” Without letting go of your hand, he brought your hand to his lips.

As soon as you realized what his deal was, you laughed out loud.

“Do you want a kiss to get better faster?” you asked and received a quick yes from Jason.

#jason todd x reader #dc universe #jason tood #red hood #fluff #female reader #x reader #red hood x reader

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kayesfanfics · 1 month

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Being in Love With Rogue (Unrequited) (Fem! Reader)

A/N: Sorry yall but she’s my girlfriend, I fought Magneto and Gambit and won and now I kiss her every night

Warnings: Unrequited love, ANGST

Oh, it was so obvious to everyone in the Mansion how much you looked up to and adored the feisty southern Belle. She was absolutely beautiful, so strong and independent, never took any shit from anyone, and very headstrong and opinionated, what was there not to like about her? She was perfect, except…she was with Gambit, her soulmate. You couldn’t help but hate the swamp rat, wanting to be in his place so badly. Everyone could sense your feelings about the two of them, everyone except for Rogue herself. When you saw them kiss, you had the leave the room because of the anger boiling in you, and the sharp sting to your heart knowing he could touch her but you’d never be able to

Luckily almost everyone in the Mansion knew exactly what it was like seeing the one you were in love with love somebody else. Well, except Jean and Scott, but everyone else. Morph would sometimes make jokes about it, Wolverine would tell him to shut up and leave you be, Storm would rest a hand on your shoulder in silent comfort, Beast would say some intelligent quote you didn’t quite care about. You’d never fully quite come out to the team as sapphic, but it was painfully obvious and they accepted you without question. Jubilee and Roberto would often ask why you never told her your feelings for her before she had gotten with Gambit, but you never could answer them. Maybe you were too shy, too afraid of what she’d say, you didn’t know. But you knew she wouldn’t truly want to be with you if she couldn’t touch you, no matter how badly you wanted her

“Don’t worry kid, you’ll get over her soon enough.” Wolverine would say

“Maybe Gambit will turn her gay soon, who knows! He has awful guy habits.” Morph would quip

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring ourselves.” Beast would quote

“Perhaps you should talk to her, get some of it off of your chest.” Storm would agree

None of it helped, you couldn’t bring yourself to make her love life more complicated after all that Magneto and Gambit drama she had dealt with a few months ago. You didn’t need her to know, you didn’t see any point in it, nothing would change for you. You’d excuse yourself from your friends and go to your room to wallow, still feeling hopelessly heartbroken after watching Gambit dip and kiss her in the middle of the basketball court

Gambit was fully aware you had a crush on his girlfriend. He wasn’t upset about it, he knew exactly how you felt, but you refused to talk to him about it or let him help you in any way. You were bitter and jealous of him, even if he was nothing but chill and nice to you. He did make an effort not to flaunt his relationship too much in your face, but he couldn’t help it if Rogue wanted a kiss from him while you happened to be there, it’s not like he’s deny her and you understood that

One day during a mission, things went south and Rogue got hurt badly. You couldn’t stop yourself from running to her to help, only to be beat by Gambit rushing over to help his girlfriend. You forced yourself to refocus back on the attacking Sentinels, feeling your feelings finally boil over and you raged against the robots, blasting them to bits and punching them far after they were down. You finally stopped when your knuckles bled profusely and tears overflowed your eyes, making you sob into your hands in a pile of broken machinery. You heard Morph and Jean trying to get your attention and ask you what was wrong, but you had been bottling up your feelings for so long you couldn’t hold them back anymore

“Y/N? What’s wrong, sugah?”

You looked behind you to see Rogue standing with some of the others, concern warping her face as she held her injured arm. You stared at her pretty face for a moment before quickly wiping your face and standing up, feeling like an immature child in front of them all. You whispered a quick “nothing” before attempting to leave, only to be stopped by Rogue grabbing your shoulder

“Y/N, we used ta be best friends! You can tell me! I don’t know what changed, but I want ta help ya!” She pleased with you, the other X-Men taking the hint and shuffling over to another area to let the two of you talk. Gambit made eye contact with you and gave you a nod, before joining the others out of earshot

“R-Rogue, I…I can’t tell you!” You cried out, dissolving into tears yet again right in front of her

“Of course ya can! You could tell me ya loved my boyfriend and I’d still listen!” She sat down with you in the rubble of the fight, tucking some of your messy hair behind your ear. Your breath hitched at the comment, knowing she was very close to being correct

“That’s uh…sorta the problem.” You finally admitted, looking down at your lap on shame. “Except…cept it’s not him I love…”

Rogue stared at you in confusion for a moment, before everything clicked in her head. Oh. That explains why you distanced yourself from her, stopped sharing everything with her, stopped coming to her when you needed someone, didn’t want to be friends with her anymore…

“Oh, Y/N.” She sighed, raising a hand to hold your chin to make you look at her. “Honey, I had no idea. I just thought…I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry. If I had known I wouldn’t’a been so…I’m so sorry!” She tugged you into a hug, her own eyes tearing up

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just…I didn’t want to complicate things for you even more. I didn’t want to be a burden on you.” You shyly hugged back, your first hug in what felt like forever. You buried your face in her fluffy hair, breathing in her scent and holding onto her tightly

“You could never be a burden on me, sweetie! I should’ve seen it, now that you say that it was so obvious! I didn’t mean to ignore you or make you feel like I didn’t care about ya! I do! I love ya! Just…not in the way ya want me to.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to! I shouldn’t have been such a baby and just told you, woulda saved me a lot of heartache. Storm was right about that.”

“Aw man, did everybody know but me?” She laughed, pulling away and wiping her eyes of tears

“Kind of.” You giggled, wiping your own tears and smiling up at her

After that mission, your friendship was mended and you went back to telling her everything and going to her if you needed her. She was more mindful of PDA around you and didn’t talk to you about Remy unless you were okay with it (you were especially okay with it when they were fighting and he did some stupid shit). Your other friends were glad to see the two of you finally talking and being the duo you had always been, but you still drank with Wolverine and cried about her to him, who wasn’t fully paying attention to you and probably thinking of a certain red head he loved…

#x men 97 #xmen x reader #rogue x reader #xmen rogue #anna marie lebeau

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frownyalfred · 4 months

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How much violence do you think Batman should be able to get away with and still remain a hero or vigilante while also not losing his characterization?

There are times where no lives are in immediate danger and he only needs to get information but then he just casually breaks bones, effectively torturing someone. Like in the videogames Telltale Batman or the Arkham games' verse or even the movies and comics where he dishes out way more violence than necessary. That scene where he threatens to crush a guy's head with the Batmobile and actually has the car start rolling over his head, cracking it slightly. Or the interrogation of Eli in the Telltale game where Batman can pretty much brutalize and torture an already frightened criminel if the player so chooses. Or the comics, where he sometimes says he enjoys hurting criminals and sends them to the ER without a second thought.

Also, do his kids know just how brutal Bruce can be on a Tuesday just cause he feels like a criminel deserves it? After a patrol, he'll reprimand them for breaking someone's collarbone or if he thinks they took it too far even though he does that all the time. It's not like the Batkids never do it themselves, but when they do, they're mostly in extremely emotional states and not a cold clinical mindset. One could argue Jason and Cass are exessively violent too but, well, Jason is an anti-hero (or villain) and Cass is still learning how far is too far.

And if the kids didn't know/realise, what would happen if they saw a recording of Batman absolutely dismantling a criminal in a detached sort of way (maybe a rogue maybe not, whatever would be worse ig) and then having to reconcile that that's the man who's like a father to them.

It's a very interesting question, and I suspect you'll get a different answer from everyone you ask.

My take is that it comes down to two things: intention and likelihood. Bruce's line for injury/torture/death sits somewhere between probably won't kill them or cause grievous injury and could cause death or grievous injury.

Throwing a guy off a high-up roof isn't just likely to kill someone, it was likely intended to do so. As we see in Batman Begins, you can throw someone off a (low) roof and not kill them, without the intention of killing them, and without the high likelihood of the act killing them.

Breaking a man's leg for information probably won't kill him, but it could! The break could be done wrong, or heal wrong, and cause a blood clot that killed the man. But was breaking the man's leg intended to kill him? Was it done with full knowledge that the break would likely result in death? Is that something a reasonable individual can even evaluate on their own?

The argument can be made that hitting someone in the head could result in death. So is Bruce risking his no-kill rule on a technicality when he punches people into walls? Does dying from a complicated TBI years later count?

I find the branding example in BVS a fascinating discussion of this point. Bruce doesn't kill the men he brands, but he effectively sets the men up to be killed in prison. Is it the same? Does he intend for the brand to kill the men? Does he have knowledge of the likelihood of death as a result of his brand? Does Lex's meddling actually change any of that when it's revealed later?

The third thing I haven't brought up but that you did is Bruce's enjoyment/active participation in all of this. Does he hurt people because it's effective? Is it ever gratuitous? Is he detached from the suffering he causes, viewing it as a means to an end? Does Gotham play by different rules -- i.e., is torture and grievous bodily injury ever acceptable in Gotham when it wouldn't be in other cities? Is Bruce a man willing to do what it takes at the end of his rope, or is he a man who resorts to violence when there are still other viable options? Somewhere in between?

I do agree that, with the addition of Robins and other family members, the violence likely tones down unless absolutely necessary. Hurting people shouldn't be enjoyable, but it is downright painful for some people (not Bruce) to witness firsthand.

#thoughts #ramble #anon #asks #hope this helped a little #even though I mostly just asked more questions #bruce wayne #batman #dc #batfamily #dc meta #dc comics

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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Your Sweet Princess (Daemon x Reader)

This was actually really fun to write and I hope you guys like it as well.

Alicent always wanted a baby girl, she had dreamed of the day that a little girl would call her “mother” and there she was, princess (y/n) first of her name, the first born child of queen Alicent Hightower and king Viserys Targaryen, the twin of Aegon. (Y/n) and her mother were attached at the hip, (y/n) adored her mother and looked up to her and Alicent coddled her daughter, (y/n) was spoiled rotten, she got the finest clothes, the finest jewels, the best horse, anything she wanted was hers by the queens order.

“We are to attend the funeral of Lady Laenas at driftmark”

“She passed away? How?”

“Complications during child birth, poor thing”

(Y/n) grew silent, her mother and (y/n) would usually dine alone in a private room, free to chat and discuss anything their hearts wished, away from duty and protocol, just a daughter and a mother.

(Y/n) had come of age and was aware that her father had raised the question of when would she wed, her mother did not want her to suffer the way she did, to be under the heavy cloak of wedlock and carry the burden of a lord husband just yet. Alicent reached over to grab her daughters hand, (y/n) looked in to her mothers eyes that were over floating with compassion and empathy.

“When the time comes I will be right there with you, nothing will ever hurt you, my sweet princess”

(Y/n) nodded as her mother smiled, she was thankful for her mother in many ways, one of them was that Alicent had always been her children’s biggest supporter, Alicent was the only person (y/n) trusted with her life.

As the ceremony went on (y/n) stood next to her mother and watched the ceremony go on with a stoic face, no one would guess that Alicents daughter was stealing glances at the newly widowed prince Daemon, she had never really spend much time with him still as he stood there (y/n) could not help but be intrigued by him.

Her mother held her hand tight as Laena was released to the ocean, Alicent worried for her daughter, praying to the seven that this would never happen to her sweet little (y/n), all (y/n) needed was to be happy no darkness would come to her life, it would have to go through Alicent first.

Daemon was taken aback when he first laid eyes on the girl dressed in green, she was a Hightower alright, the ceremony went by quickly enough and Daemon decided to stay in a more secluded area in his own company. However he could not restrain from gazing at the young (y/n), they way she stood tall next to her mother, how her hair was tied up and left her face exposed, she was a beauty no doubt.

It was well into the night when (y/n) decided to talk a walk around the castle, she had not changed out of her dress yet so why not walk around a little, it was ground she had never been on and she was always fond of the ocean.

“Prince Daemon?”

She questioned in confusion, he stood pretty close to the shore as his eyes were fixated at the ocean. The sudden call of his name made him turn around to see who it was, he was pleasantly surprised when he saw her, a smirk escaping his lips as the girl stood there with her hair loose and blowing in the wind, even in the darkest night she looked enchanting.

“What is a princess doing out of her chamber at the hour of the bat?”

“I could not find sleep I’m afraid, what’s your excuse my prince?”

“Lots of things”

“Care to share?”

She enquired as she took a few steps to stand next to him. Daemon remained silent for a while, how could he utter that at his wife’s funeral he was thinking of the young Hightower? That was shameful even for him, the girl was her mothers daughter she would never dare to approach him.

“You know your mother will be cross if she were to discover you having a conversation with the rogue prince”

“I might have a close bond with her but even I know that there are some things mothers should not know about”

She responded lightly making the prince smirk at her little sneaky comment. (Y/n) had heard stories about the prince, his irresponsible and free spirited nature, sometimes she would wonder what life would be like if she did what she wanted with nothing to think about but yourself and your own happiness.

“I am sorry about your lady wife”

“Don’t be”

“You did not love her?”

“I had love for her, unfortunately I did not… crave her”

“Crave?”

Daemon turned his face to look at the confused girl, her mother had not really talk about what happens in marriage, her septa had explained some stuff but it was never about… craving someone, it was the result that mattered which was the baby.

“You’ve never craved someone? Yearning for their touch? Your heart beating so fast and loud like it will pound out of your chest, how your body starts shaking from the need to… are you alright princess?”

As Daemon spoke in a low voice his head naturally leaned close to hers, (y/n)s breath had sunk as her body yes closed, fully surrendering to Daemons words.

“No I believe I’m not”

“What do you feel dear?”

“I feel- I feel lightheaded”

She mumbled as she felt her legs become liquid when Daemon put his hands on her waist. She opened her eyes to look at his deep blue hues before her focused shifted on his lips,both of them hesitated for a moment as they stood still, they were certain that if they were to do this there was no turning back.

Hesitantly (y/n) placed her hands on his chest, it felt like fire was taking over her and even though she felt hot she started to trembled like she was placed in cold water.

“Is this what it feels like?”

“Yes”

“Feels… nice”

Her voice was hoarse and barely audible, the feeling was intoxicating as she slowly walked deeper and deeper to the hole of sin. When Daemon kissed her it was similar to lighting striking her, her hands acted by themselves wrapping around his neck to pull him in and feel his body against hers, lust had full control of her.

Everything happened so fast as she pulled him down to the sand to lay down and Daemon lifted her dress having no time to spare to fully undress themselves, her loose hair mixed with the sand and her back felt cold against the damp ground but nothing mattered, his kisses felt like lava across her chest and neck, she bit lips hungrily as they finally connected, pain mixed with pleasure, desire intertwined with shame, It felt good to be sinful.

Her moans grew louder he worked faster to please her, Daemon had slept with many women in his life yet none could compare to this, she was alluring, like a siren pulling him to her trap and he never wanted to leave, caresses turned to grips as (y/n) became thirsty and needed to quench her sexual desire with Daemon,her legs pulled him in from wrapping around his waist and her nails had probably left deep and bloody scratch marks on his back, he devoured her slowly as she experienced what it’s like to be wanted

“Please Daemon”

She begged him as the hunger for pleasure grew strong, her eyes had been filled with fire as they looked like they were fighting one another, passion could sometimes resemble madness and as of this moment they were both going insane for just little more, as they claimed one another out in the open they risked their lives for their animalistic needs, perhaps the danger of discovery is what made it more thrilling, nothing is more tempting than taking a bite of the forbidden fruit.

As Daemon laid on top of her slightly exhausted from the act (y/n) let out a small giggle gaining his attention. Her eyes sparkled in the dark from the rush of adrenaline she felt, she had always been the kind, soft spoken, perfect daughter and now she had coupled with a man her mother hated.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing just… this”

“I’m glad you find it hilarious”

“I do not mean that I… never expected to feel like this”

“Like what?”

“Desired”

Daemon kissed her swollen and bruised lips softly, he had landed a few strong bites on her lower lip and (y/n) had bit them to prevent herself from waking up everyone at the castle. Daemon caressed her cold cheek, the wind was strong but they could barely breathe from the wild act.

“How could someone not desire you”

“For women of my lineage wedlock is not about love or desire”

“Leave with me, away from everyone”

“What?”

Daemon moved away from her to lay on her side, (y/n) was like riding a dragon for the first time, thrilling, addicting, empowering, her eagerness and spirit made her to be Daemons new addiction, they would have a target on their back if they decided to do this but it would definitely be worth it.

“If we get on dragon back we can ride to Pentos before dawn and we can be happy”

“My mother”

“I will not lie to you, she will be angry, although given the bond you guys have it won’t take long until she asks for you”

When Alicent woke up the next day the first thing she did was look for her daughter, before she even reached (y/n)s chambers she was informed that the princess was gone, (y/n) had ran off to Pentos with Daemon.

The queen was heart broken, she was often caught in her daughters room crying and holding her clothes, it was almost like the princess had passed. Alicent felt betrayed by her daughter, her sweet little princess had turned her back on her family and flew away from her mother.

As the months passed there was no news of (y/n), only a few scattered whispers about her happy life in Pentos including servants complaining of their… inappropriate acts of love around the castle at any hour of the day.

“My queen, there is a letter for you”

“From whom?”

“Pentos”

Alicent stood completely still for a minute until she snapped back to reality and ripped the paper away from the servants hands.

“Leave”

She growled as her hands tugged the paper to get it open. Once the door was closed and she was left alone she recognised the handwriting, tears immediately welling up at the queens eyes

“My dearest mother,

I apologise for not writing sooner but I must admit I was scared of your reaction. It was not my wish to hurt you nor had I ever wanted to leave your side but love makes you do things and I was certain you would have not allowed my union with Daemon.

I write to you to let you know I am happy, Daemon has been a wonderful match and a tender lord husband, I know you were worried about me so please do not fret.

There is also another reason I write to you my dear mother, a promise you had given me that I ask of you to keep. I am with child and I am terrified, as a woman I am sure you understand my fear and as my belly grows big I have come to realise I cannot do this alone, I want my mother and your grandchild needs it’s grandmother.

I wish to come and visit you, maesters say I should give birth in a fortnight or so and I would’ve delighted to do it at my motherland, Daemon and I would like to arrive on dragon back and spend some time with our family. I beg you mother let’s put our feud aside for your grandchild.

Love,

Your sweet princess”

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hijinxinprogress · 6 months

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YouTuber!Stephanie

Stephanie has a youtube channel (she 100% gives it a name like gotham_after_dark or bat_interpreter) where she follows Batman and mocks him, she definitely also makes content on tiktok and instagram

She’s recording fights with rogues and him interrogating questioning people and doing voice overs in a goofiest growl she can for batman but she also does voices for everyone else (it gets to the point where penguin puts a hit out and is actively trying to expose the youtubers identity bc steph does this terrible whiny british accent when she’s imitating penguin)

She starts her channel right after Bruce fires her from Robin and still does it to this day

Bc if she’s gonna get shit for not being Tim might as well go all the way right?? She’s just doing the opposite of what Tim’s doing or outright copying him depending on which would annoy them the most

Stephanie records batman dangling some guy off a roof for the 37th time this week while going “You said the cheese on the nachos at your restaurant was imported directly from Italy but I saw you…THIS CHEESE IS FROM A GROCERY STORE…in GOTHAM… do you know what batman does to liars??”

Batman’s chasing the joker? Again? Here comes Stephanie with her fucking camera “Joker baby, you know that fight with Cobblepot meant nothing to me” “You know what, Bats? Fight whoever you want!” “Why are you going to Cobblepot’s lair with a grenade launcher? Baby…?” “Well, if the wellbeing of fucking Oswald is sooo important to you, you fucking cheater ☹️ I’m gonna kill him” “HUH” Stephanie’s joker voice is pretty good but she stops when Jason follows her channel after admitting he watches it (however Damian gives zero fucks and edits in his scarily accurate joker impression and will break into Jason’s apartment at random to do his joker impression)

Stephanie’s Duke impression is just her making puns in a bad robot voice and Duke hates it sm bc she’s saying shit like “Don’t signal for backup bc I’m already Signal-ing this ass whooping” “The yellow is the Signal for you to run” “Hey hey hey, night time is when you do this stupid shit rn is Signal Time” “The sun is my Signal to be vigilant-y” “Setting off that alarm should’ve been enough of a Signal for you stop” (Dick made tshirts and Duke refuses to talk to him when he wears them)

You legally have to be a level 79 hater to be a vigilante in gotham so most of Steph’s videos esp after Bruce has pissed her off are just her shitting on batman in a terrible growl “Damn, I’m getting too old for this…my knees hurt so much” “Nightwing thinks he’s funny, asking me if I remember the dust bowl…mf I remember the fucking big bang” “I’m so good at this, I don’t think anyone knows I’m a vampire” “Bruce Wayne owns gotham general and can’t cure Alzheimer’s?? I hate that asshole, I don’t even remember where tf I’m going” “I wanted to be Spider-Man and now I’m this” “Ooh, I’m Batman and I hate fun, happiness, and joy” “Don’t do crime, be like me…perpetually bitchless and breaking kneecaps” “Some people need coffee for a pick me up but I just need to see a purse snatcher piss their pants” “I don’t actually meld into the shadows, I just have Apple Maps and it takes me the long way”

Batman’s fighting or arguing with black mask? Stephanie has been waiting for this moment so every video with black mask is just her making fun of black mask to the point where there’s barely any batman slander “My real names fucking Roman so I had to go all out with this stupid ass costume…I’m not even a real gothamite, I’m from metropolis” “Sionis…I don’t care… you blew up thirteen hostages” “ITS NOT MY FAULT, OKAY?! Did you know you’re supposed to wash masks? Especially if you wear the same one everyday? Bc I fucking didn’t” “…Sionis…” “THERES MOLD ON MY FACE and this mask smells like ASS” “Everyone knows that, you moron…How do you think I found you? I can smell your stench from damn near two miles away…” “I’m like scary though right??” “No, Sionis, you just have poor hygiene…and issues” “Dammit, I’m like a dollar tree version of two face” “Not quite, what’s lower than that? Dollar tree is too good for you…don’t tell joker but Harvey’s way-”

Stephanie has a two hour video of batman grappling across Gotham just shitting on metropolis and sixty seven minutes of it is just Superman slander in a terrible growl

There’s short clips of cass suddenly disappearing or appearing out of nowhere before and after dismantling someone with the michael myers theme playing in the background (Cass does dramatic flips and landings every time steph records her)

When Bruce complains about the threat to their identities and compromising ongoing missions/investigations, Stephanie (who is purposely trying to piss him off) just looks him dead in eye and goes “Well, you’re not the boss of me sooo” so Tim gives a presentation and shuts down every single argument Bruce makes just to be contrary bc he’s a fucking asshole

Tim only has a problem with it when Stephanie and Damian start working together bc Damian does concerningly accurate impressions and Damian keeps making Tim sound like a fucking idiot and it’s worse bc he can mimic his speech patterns (“I can’t do this anymore… I’m sad and pasty… Call the fifth robin, you know…the only competent robin…”)

Like Damian’s repeating one of Tim’s caffeine concoction induced rants about bagels in Tim’s voice while Steph is growling at him to focus in her batman impression

When Tim brings his complaints to Bruce about Stephanie’s youtube account, Bruce cites Tim’s own argument back to him so Tim takes over editing and recording to be an asshole

#stephanie brown #spoiler dc #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #dc gotham #dcu #youtuber!stephanie brown #Damian stands at the end of Jason’s bed at 3am and just does the joker laugh for no fucking reason #Damian is 100% responsible for Jason’s mental health decline #Steph does an accurate british accent but it’s still whiny bc Alfred gave her the ‘I’m not mad I’m just disappointed’ look #Stephanie’s yt channel actually makes it easier to keep their identities secret bc she uses every batman theory in her videos #Stephanie 🤝🏾 Damian: psychological warfare on their friends and family #They probably think they’re just being mildly annoying but in actuality they’ve caused 67 mental breakdowns a week

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asumofwords · 11 months

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what are the Blacks doing at the moment?? And what about Jace wedding?? my babygirl needs to receive a raven from her parents and brother :(

I had been planning to write a lil Black POV chapter, and saw this ask and thought I would write a little Black/Dragonstone Blurb instead!

I hope this answers your questions and shows some insight into how the Blacks are coping in her absence!

The Black POV - Dragonstone

Daemon paced along the edge of the Painted Table, irritation and anger radiating from his body. One hand laid tightly atop the hilt of the Dark Sister blade, whilst the other was pressed on his hip. He had been like this for many days, moons even, ever since his daughter had left for King’s Landing.

Rhaenyra had done her best to soothe the Rogue Prince, now King Consort, ensuring him that the Princess had her dragon, and that should she need help, she would ask for it. That the Princess was clever, and would be swift to violence if needed. But even as Rhaenyra spoke the words, it felt bitter on her tongue.

Whilst Daemon openly showed the world his emotions, Rhaenyra kept hers tight to her chest.

Where Daemon was openly pacing, Rhaenyra was quietly suffering.

A Queen must never show her weakness.

Ser Erryk entered the chambers of the Painted Table, bowing softly to his Queen and the King Consort as he came towards them. The other Lords in the chambers stilled as they watched the knight hand over a roll of parchment to Rhaenyra.

The Queen’s eldest son, Jacaerys, stood beside Baela, posture straight and jaw set as they anxiously waited for the Princess’ response.

Another letter from the Princess.

It was like this every time.

Each time a raven was seen in the skies, the council was summoned to the chambers, and all waited to read and see if the Princess had given the signal to attack. And each time, they were frustratingly told no.

Rhaenyra had to steady her hands as she held the scroll, looking down at the deep green wax seal, a three headed dragon stamped into it. The sigil of her brother. The Usurper. The Drunken King. She picked off the wax, feeling Daemon move to her side, hovering over her shoulder as she unfurled the paper.

‘Muña se Kepa,’ Mother and Father, The letter began, completely written in High Valyrian.

Rhaenyra had to blink to keep her tears at bay, the sight of her only daughters handwriting sending her reeling through an onslaught of emotions, and none of them positive. She felt the heat of Daemon’s eyes behind her as she continued.

‘The weather in King’s Landing is agreeable this time of year, though there is a biting chill in the evenings which blankets each and every corner of the Keep. It seems that no matter where I go, there is always a bitter coldness at every door, and every entrance. Even the Dragon Pit is far too cold to enter, Vermithor is no doubt missing my absence.’

Daemon’s teeth ground together as he read.

Cold no matter where she goes.

Guards.

She was being watched.

Daemon and Rhaenyra both knew that their daughter would never shy away from the cold to ride her dragon, and so now they knew the truth of her inability to get to the Bronze Fury.

They were keeping her trapped.

Just as they had expected.

‘I spent the day walking around the Keep, and each corner I took to escape the cold, I would hide, and sure enough, its icy limbs would follow me, searching about for my warmth. There is not one place in the Keep where I may find solace, except perhaps in my chambers.’

Daemon struggled to keep his emotions at bay, fingers clenched around the sword. His eyes stung as he pushed away the tears that threatened to fall. His daughter. His sweet, little dragon. She was hurting, and she would not let them help.

Daemon’s gaze fell to his wife’s.

She was struggling just as much as he was.

‘Aemond ensures that the chambers are warmed with fire for me, and I am most grateful for it. It seems to be the only place in which I can escape it. Perhaps Winter is coming for King’s Landing after all.’

“She is being watched. They’re suspicious of something.” Daemon grunted, Lord’s and Maester shifting on their feet as they waited for the Queen and King to finish reading.

Waiting for them to voice the news aloud as they read silently.

Jacaerys could scarcely hold still, grounded only by Baela’s hand, tightly fisted in his.

‘I asked the King if the Prince and I could attend Jacaerys and Baela’s union, and unfortunately the King has pressing matters for the Prince, and I regretfully will not be able to attend. I am deeply saddened by this, but I find pride in knowing that my Lord Husband will always be loyal to his King, and often leaves to perform his duties.’

Daemon breathed heavily out of his nose as they got to the end of the letter.

‘Star Fruit in the Keep comes plenty in numbers thanks to Aemond, and I can comfortably know that I need not ask for your supplies yet. How do you all fare? Is Jacaerys smitten with Baela? Will you have him write to me soon? How is Aegon the Younger and Little Viserys? Does Joffrey spark trouble?’

The Rogue Prince turned King’s heart cracked, sorrow drowning him as he finished reading the last paragraph.

‘I miss you all terribly, I wish I was there to hold you. I pray to the Gods that we will see each other very soon.

All my love,

Yours,

Zaldrītsos.’

The King moved away from Rhaenyra and growled, pacing the chambers once again. The energy in the chambers shifting to a hostile one.

“Your Grace,” Jacaerys started, anxiety rolling through him from his mothers silence, “What did she say?”

Rhaenyra took a steadying breath before handing the scroll to Jacaerys, straightening her posture as she readied herself to update her Small Council on the Princess’ recent letter.

Jacaerys took the letter, fingers clutching the paper with shaking hands and brought it back to his side. Baela tried, and failed, to not look at her sisters handwriting, instead leaning in closer, dipping her head to read alongside her betrothed.

“The Princess is being watched.” Rhaenyra began, “There are guards stationed at every chamber and path in, or out of the Keep.” She looked amongst the room at all the familiar faces of the Lord’s who had stayed on Dragonstone.

“She has no access to the Bronze Fury and has informed us that she is being followed. Likely a spy of Larys Strong, or one of the Dowager Queen’s informants.”

“Vermithor has been spotted at Dragonmont on occasion, Your Grace.” Maester Gerardys informed the Queen.

“A smart move on their end.”Rhaenyra spoke proudly and also bitterly, “The Princess would burn the Keep to the ground if she could.”

Jacaerys finished reading his sisters letter, hand tightening on the parchment.

“She won’t come to our union.”

“She can’t.” Daemon growled, “Do you think that they would let her come back here? Unsupervised? So that she may spill their secrets to us? They aren’t that stupid. Aemond isn’t a fool.” Daemon spat his nephews name, “He knows that if he were to fly here alone, that we would have the upper hand. He may ride atop Vhagar, but with Caraxes, Meraxes, Syrax and your dragons, we would have the upper hand on our shores.”

Jacaerys all but scowled at Daemon, not angry at the man for his words, but the both of their tempers simmering, unhidden beneath the surface.

Rhaenyra looked at her husband and son before addressing the chambers.

“You may leave.” She dismissed the Council, and watched as they all bowed and went back to their business within the Keep.

Once the last of the men had left the chambers, Daemon rounded on his wife.

“We shouldn’t have sent her to the vipers to be subjected to their bite. We shouldn’t have left her to suffer under them whilst we gorge ourselves on her successes.” Daemon snapped, composure whittling away.

“We shouldn’t have, and yet we did. But it was the only way in that moment.” Rhaenyra argued, though she felt the same anguish the King Consort did, “She knew what she was agreeing to. She knew what would await her there, I made it very clear when we spoke.” Rhaenyra heaved angry breaths.

“We are no better than them for knowingly sending her to her doom.” Daemon spat.

Rhaenyra was filled with the sharp edges of guilt, twisting her stomach.

Guilt ate at the Queen’s every waking moments.

Guilt. Fear. Rage.

"Y/n insisted on going with no room for argument.” Rhaenyra’s temper rose.

“And you’re the Queen. You could have commanded her to stay.”

“And you, the King.” Rhaenyra snapped back, “Do you think she would have listened? She took to Harrenhal alone. She is not a child we can tame.”

“She is barely a woman grown, and we sent her to them with open arms!” Daemon’s voice boomed across the room.

Jacaerys shifted, and Baela pulled his arm closer towards her body. Pulling him to her.

Grounding him.

“Do you think I take pleasure in knowing that she suffers alone under their hands?”

“I think we sit on our hands in cowardice, knowing what is happening to her.”

“And what do you suggest we do, Daemon? Fly across the realm atop our dragons and fight a war that we know we cannot win? The realm will burn, our daughter in it. This is why we accepted the treaty terms in the first place.”

Daemon’s hand twitched on the hilt of the blade, fingers flexing around it in thought.

“We should have flown to the Keep when this began. We should have mounted their heads on spikes and burnt them to the ground.” He sneered, directing his anger towards his wife.

“I am not repeating this with you.” Rhaenyra snapped, leaning towards her husband with her body, brows furrowed, “It is the same argument, over and over. How much more must we all hear it?”

“Until we are burdened with the grief of what we have done! What we have done to her!”

“We are burdened. We are burdened most terribly! But we must find comfort in knowing that we have eyes in the Keep.”

“What, the Maester and some maids?” Daemon growled, “Goldcloaks and lower Lords? Do you think they see all that happens? Do they see behind closed doors?”

“Yes.” Rhaenyra’s jaw ticked, “Find comfort in knowing that we have any eyes on her at all. Find comfort in knowing that we did not send her there blindly. Find comfort in knowing that she will not birth his child.”

“I find very little comfort in any of this. Look at the way she writes to us.” Daemon’s hand flew towards the parchment Jacaerys still held, “She has lost her fire, grown dull like embers. She cannot even speak freely to us.”

Rhaenyra looked down at the table, taking a deep breath before she began.

“And we knew this was to happen.” She said solemnly, she knew all too well, as did Daemon, “And we shall continue to wait for her word.”

Rhaenyra straightened, and a shadow passed over her face. A face in which Daemon had seen many times before. When she had told him to take her to Dragonstone to wed on her union to Laenor. When she had demanded he wed her at the funeral.

When she refused to bend the knee to her usurper brother.

She was digging her heels in.

And with conviction that Rhaenyra was losing, she spoke with the strength and command of a Queen, "I will not allow for her sacrifices to be for naught. And I will not have this same circular argument, again and again. We all grieve her absence, but if we tear each other apart, she will have nothing to come back to.”

“If she comes back at all.” Jacaerys snipped.

Daemon bristled.

“She is playing her part, and we must play ours.” Rhaenyra stepped closer to her husband, crown shining atop her head from the light of the table and the fireplace behind them, “She is strong. Stronger than we give her credit for, and cunning too. They will underestimate her. And it will advantage us. We cannot afford to dive into another war like a steadfast fool. She will tell us when it is time, and until then, we must be ready.”

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Hi Flower! I hope you had a great new years! Wish you nothing but the best this year! I wanted to ask real quick if you took requests. Like

With a minotaur? Like I don’t see a lot of them on tumblr - or I can’t find them - but like it can me sfw or nsfw, whatever you want. I low key think that Minotaurs are so cute. Doesn’t have to be like super extravagant or anything, like something a little cutesy fluffy. I don’t know does that make sense? But like only if you want to 😂❤️

ANYWAYS I love your work and I hope you have a great day!

Thank you! I do take requests and I've actually been working on a couple of minotaur stories but I wasn't quite happy with any of them until I decided on this one. It's a little different with a reader with yandere qualities as well. I hope you have a wonderful new year with many delights <3

'Minotaur demigod (Solomon) x water nymph reader

Word Count: 2k

🌶️ NSFW MASTERPOST 🌶️

W: nsfw monster smut, some violence and minor character death, yandere vibes

You watched the golden bull warily as he lapped water from your spring. Next to him he’d arranged some fruits he’d found and nudged them to you.

“T-thanks,” you murmured, accepting the fruit, taking a bite and picking at it with your small claws.

Normally, you only ate the fish you caught in the nearby river, but fruit was a nice treat. As a water nymph you ate your meat raw as your ancestors had done for thousands of years.

Trapped in your spring, your territory ranged a few miles in any direction on the mountain where you lived, as far as you could walk in a day. When you were small, your mother had removed your still beating heart from your chest and nestled it at the base of this spring.

Now your magic made the water sweet and endless. The forest thrived around you and creatures big and small came to drink, but your heart bound you to the spot. You could never leave. When you died another nymph would plant her daughter and the process would start all over again.

This golden bull had been coming for a few days, bringing you fruit and sleeping next to your spring. You’d thought he’d take advantage of the water and then move on, but he seemed to be settling in, spending hours lounging in the sun next to you and bringing you gifts.

“You seem to be getting quite comfortable,” you commented as he grazed on the grass around your spring. He paused for a moment and winked at you before resuming his grazing.

Suddenly he was on high alert, his ears perked and his head lowered to charge.

You followed his eyes through the woods until you too saw a handful of elf rogues tromping through the underbrush.

“A spring! Finally!” one of them sighed.

Two of them were hauling a large chest, while the others carried packs with supplies. They looked like a rough bunch, some without teeth, one missing an eye and all of them in need of a bath.

“Well look what we have here!” their leader said, spitting and examining you, “a pretty spring nymph all alone out here.”

He crouched down close to the water, apparently not noticing the massive bull pacing in the shadows.

“Come here little girl,” he said, crooking his finger at you, “we just wanna have a bit of fun. If you're good we won't hurt you.”

You drifted to the center of your pond on the lilypad on which you were sitting and the foolish rogue followed you in thinking the water was shallow and he could overpower you. It was up to a point, but nymphs didn’t live successfully in the wild for thousands of years because you were helpless.

Focusing your magic you willed the water to tug his feet from under him, leaving him sputtering even in the shallows. Every time he tried to get up you sent a new wave to hold him down as his friends watched in horror. If you kept this up you would slowly drown him.

An arrow flew past you, nicking your shoulder and bringing your game to an end. An angry snort echoed through the clearing, distracting you from the trickle of blood making its way down your arm.

The bull barreled through the archer, impaling him on his horns and when you looked, he wasn’t exactly a bull anymore, but more human…a minotaur!

The other two elves, who weren’t being drowned or gored, turned to try to help their friend, pulling out swords, but you weren’t going to let the minotaur be taken unaware from behind.

You willed a large wave of water over the two poor elves, dragging them, choking into the frigid depths at the center of your spring. You held the three of them under until they stopped moving, letting their bodies drift to a dark corner where the eels would pick them apart.

They weren’t the only bones of hapless travelers who had thought to molest you that had collected at the base of your pool.

You squirted a more gentle stream of water at the minotaur, rinsing him of the blood dripping down his neck as he dragged the body over to your pool. Sweeping it up, you maneuvered it with the others to be eaten.

He laughed and shook his head, like a dog whisking the water away. He had fluffy blondish hair that fell in his eyes and long horns you quite liked. His nose was pierced with a gold ring as were his nipples. Around his waist was wrapped a cotton wrap secured with a gold belt that did nothing to hide his bulge.

“You do not need my protection, fair water nymph,” he chuckled, rifling through the odd weeds at the edge of the pond, “yet, I still wish to assist you.”

When he found a leaf he was happy with he chewed it up and spit it into his hand.

“Come here,” he said, crooking his fingers at you.

You drifted on your lilypad over to him, curious. You jumped as he leaned down to touch your arm, but his calloused, warm fingers on your damp skin was actually quite comforting.

“It’s okay,” he purred, “it’s just for the cut.”

He patted the leaf mush onto the wound on your arm and you realized it had stopped hurting, instead the sensation replaced by a cool tingle.

“You’ve been here for days,” you commented, “what is your name and why have you not spoken to me?”

He blushed.

“Solomon,” he said, “and as for why I did not reveal myself to you, I saw what you did with the last males who disturbed you and did not wish to end up at the bottom of your spring.”

You returned his blush with your own. It was true you did have a habit of drowning males who frightened you or got on your nerves or overstayed their welcome. You were all alone in the forest, there was no one to help you. It was best to be cautious and drown first, ask questions later.

“You are no normal minotaur,” you pointed out, “you have two forms.”

He smiled at you.

“I’m a demigod, the son of a minotaur and the goddess of spring.”

Around you flowers bloomed in the underbrush filling the air with a heady fragrance.

“Then I could never have harmed you,” you added.

He chuckled.

“I did not wish to be drowned endlessly while you figured that out,” he laughed, “I can still feel pain and fear. I’m strong but your water can easily overpower me.”

You preened at his compliments and smiled.

“Why are you hanging around here?” you probed, “don’t you have someplace better to be? We’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s not a village for fifty miles.”

He grinned and peered at you from under his fluffy hair.

“I was hoping that would be obvious, water lily,” he said, plucking a flower that had bloomed beside the pond and handing it to you.

Your water churned around you, your spring flashing pink and purple as your heart fluttered with happiness, clutching the blossom to your chest. Without thinking your water scooped up the demigod and enveloped him in a bubble to draw him closer to your heart.

He was frightened at first, as you followed him down, swimming alongside the bubble. He soon realized you weren’t going to hurt him and relaxed, sitting down and putting his arms behind his head and his feet up.

“It’s pretty down here,” he said looking up at the sun filtering through the green pads of the lotuses floating on the surface. Colorful fish swam by and your happy heart made the water glow pleasing colors.

“Is that your heart?” he asked, examining the small sapphire crystal tucked in a clamshell near the bubble.

“Yes, I think it wanted you nearby,” you admitted, “I’m not sure I have complete control over it. I hope you don’t want me to let you go, I’m not confident that I can.”

He looked at you and reached through the bubble pulling you into his lap.

“I don’t mind as long as you plan on making an honest minotaur out of me, little water lily,” he chuckled, “promise not to break my heart.”

You blinked at him and turned pink.

“I-I p-promise,” you stuttered quietly, overwhelmed by his scent. He had a pleasant musk mixed with the smell of grass. Leaning down he brushed his lips against yours, nuzzling you with his broad nose. You twisted around until you were straddling his lap, pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking at him gently. He’d been an attractive bull, but he was much more handsome as a minotaur with rippling abs, that hard chest, and soulful brown eyes brushed by golden hair.

He kissed you softly, sure of what he wanted. He moaned and held you close to him, winding his thick fingers through your damp hair. Brushing your lips with his tongue he coaxed your mouth open, tasting you. Underneath you, you felt his cock hardening and to your embarrassment automatically ground your hips against it.

He didn’t seem at all put out by your needy display, pushing your hair off of your bare breast so he could knead it with his big hand. Kissing you deeper, he thrust up to show you what he had to offer. As a nymph you never wore clothes, so there was nothing between you and him but the cotton wrap around his waist. That gave you a very good idea of what he was working with as it pressed into your pussy.

His hot hands traveled over your breasts and your ass, getting to know your body.

“You are so lovely, my lily,” he cooed, dragging his kisses down your neck, “you smell like sweet water and lotus blossoms.”

His tongue found your pebbled nipples and he licked and nibbled them until you were whimpering in his arms, lustily rubbing yourself against him. Pushing you onto your back on the oddly squishy floor of the bubble, he dropped his kisses lower, sucking your clit past his lips.

You moaned his name as he licked and kissed your little nub, gasping when he split your pussy with two thick fingers.

“Solomon please!” you whined, trying to fuck yourself on his hand.

He held you steady with the other one.

“It’s like honey when you say my name,” he moaned into your pussy, so you screamed it as you came on his fingers.

That made him feral, ripping the wrap off of his waist and looming over you, his huge cock bobbing against his stomach. He had gold barbell piercings down the shaft making your eyes widen curiously. He didn’t have to ask as you tipped your hips up and spread your legs for him, spearing you with it as he kissed you passionately.

You cried into his mouth as he stretched you, tears slipping down your cheeks. You felt the piercings rubbing your G-spot making the invasion that much more intense as they pressed into it. He didn’t rush, pushing into you slowly, but firmly until he bottomed out inside you with a grunt.

He pushed your legs back behind your ears, enjoying the view of his cock splitting your tiny cunt. You loved the way he snorted and huffed as he held himself back from losing it on you, but you wanted his passion, begging for more. You could hardly move as he bent you in half, rocking his heavy body in and out of you. Memorizing his face, tense with concentration, you whined as his calloused finger circled your clit.

“Your pussy is heaven,” he groaned, the pace increasing as he slowly lost control of himself.

His hands moved from your clit to gripping one thigh and one ankle so hard he would probably leave bruises as he slammed into you, holding your ankles over your head a pounding down into you. The soft membrane of the bubble cushioned your back as he railed you.

“Mine,” he growled.

His voice was no longer gentle but gruff and animal. He grunted and growled as he took you, ruining you for any other male and you came to the sound of his feral noises. The water around you flashed colors as you orgasmed, squeezing his cock inside of you.

He roared, filling you with his load, mixing with your fluids and squirting out of your pussy. After a moment of panting next to your head and flattening you back out, he pulled you into his chest as the little spoon.

“I never asked you your name, water lily,” he murmured into your hair as you curled up safe and sound at the bottom of your spring with your new mate bent around you.

“(Y/N),” you whispered and you thought you heard him repeat it as you drifted to sleep.

#minotaur #monster smut #monster x reader #water nymph #x reader #yandere x reader #minotaur x reader #yandere smut #exophelia

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