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queers-gambit · 9 months

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Daddy Takes Care

prompt: ( requested ) in comparison, your first pregnancy was a cakewalk. this time around? not so much. good thing Daemon's there to help where he can.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader no specified House or race

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.4k+

warnings: cursing, daughter named Visenya, angst 'cause pregnancy isn't all sunshine and glow and rainbows, hurt and comfort 'cause happy (but abrupt) ending, author has never been pregnant so please forgive inaccuracies, not edited.

"My Prince! My Prince! Prince Daemon!"

Daemon purposefully ignored the errand-boy, hoisting his daughter higher on his hip. "Easy, little dragon," he spoke in High Valyrian, "Caraxes is not known for his patience."

Visenya giggled, "Caraxes likes me, Daddy."

The dragon rumbled as if in agreement, blinking his eye as Visenya laid her head on his snout; half-way out of Daemon's arms, but still maintaining a vice grip. "My Prince, please," the servant pleaded, "i-it is your wife."

Daemon whipped around, Visenya being rightened in his arms when her father glared at the young man who panted from his sprinting. "What?" Daemon demanded.

"Sh-She is with the Maesters now, my Prince, and your brother, His Grace, and the Queen Alicent, too, The baby started - "

But the lad gasped when Caraxes gave a harrowing growl as Daemon charged forward; Visenya in his arms as his dragon's breath seemingly propelled his stride forward. Visenya whimpered when Caraxes stalked out of the Dragon Pit with Daemon, only stopping when he could go no further; but he thundered his displeasure and suspicion in a grumble that made the little girl wince into Daemon's chest. "It's okay, love," Daemon told her gently in their Mothers Tongue, approaching the Royal wheelhouse they used when traveling with Visenya. He spoke softly, "We're going to see Mummy, Caraxes is just worried."

"What's wrong with Mummy?" Visenya asked in the Common Speech when they boarded.

"Go! Do not stop until we get to the Keep!" Daemon barked at the coachmen before settling his daughter down. He saw the big tears swelling in his daughter's eyes and sighed, telling her softly, "I am sorry, my sweet dragon. Daddy doesn't know what's wrong with Mummy, that scares Daddy sometimes, and when Daddy's scared, he gets a little mean."

"That's okay, Daddy," she nodded at him, looking sheepish. "I get scared, too."

"It's okay to be afraid, fear is natural," Daemon told her softly, "but it's important we do not let it define us."

Her little legs swung, "Like Lord Larys."

Daemon snickered, "Oh, you naughty girl, I told you not to repeat that."

She grinned, looking far too innocent to be Daemon's spawn. "Mummy says we should be nice to Lord Larys."

"She does?"

"Mhm," Visenya nodded, "she said 'cause he knows too much."

His head cocked, "Little Dragon, has Lord Larys ever approached Mummy? Spoken to her?"

"He tries," Visenya nodded, "but Mummy walks away, she doesn't like him." The little girl lowered her voice, telling Daemon a secret, "Mummy said his breath smells like poo."

Daemon smirked, whispering back, "I know."

When they arrived at the Red Keep, the wheelhouse was barely slowed before Daemon was scooping Visenya into his arms and getting ready to disembark. When they stopped, he didn't wait for anyone to open his doors, announce his name; he just surged out, charging for where he knew the Maester's chambers were.

However, Otto Hightower was waiting for him in the foyer, greeting, "Prince Daemon, Princess Visenya."

"Hi," Visenya waved, holding onto her father's neck shyly.

"Where is she? Where's my wife?" Daemon demanded.

"Resting in your chambers, my Prince," Otto answered, not being offended when Daemon turned heel to change direction and left him in the dust.

Nobody intercepted Daemon, but it wasn't like any tried. He didn't look at anyone, they never met his eyes; but most took note of the way he all but galloped to get to his chambers. When the shoulder that wasn't holding his daughter barged through the door, he didn't slow, just demanded, "What is this? What has happened?"

"Daemon," Viserys sighed in reprimand.

"What is the matter?" He charged forward to reach the bed. "Give Daddy a second with Mummy," he told his daughter in Valyrian as he set the little girl down and took the spot beside you instantly. You had a knowing smirk on your lips, hand taken by both of his, not even blinking when he barked, "Well? What has happened!?"

"When you take a breath, we will tell you," You told him softly, squeezing his hand and smiling with closed lips. "The Maester's have only just left, you did not miss much."

He shook his head, "I should've been here none the less."

"And deprive our little dragon rider the opportunity to bond with her favorite mate?" You teased, looking to Visenya and opening your arm (after pulling yours from Daemon's clutches), "C'mere, little one. Come to Mummy."

She was careful and slow in her movements, curling up beside you; shimmying under the covers to cuddle into your side. She pet your belly, "Does it hurt?"

"No, not right now," you answered honestly, never wanting to lie to her. It would do no good in the long run, being truthful and honest were traits you can teach (not always) and you and Daemon took it very seriously.

This was a cruel world, why sugarcoat it? So your daughter would depend on some man - some man like Larys Strong? Nope. Not on your watches. She'd be the belle of the ball with the meanest right hook in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Daemon," Viserys spoke with a calm tone, earning the attention of the room, "you must know, these sort of things can happen at anytime."

"Is it The Curse? I-Is it The Curse? Does it prevail?" He asked in desperation, looking distraught.

"No," you assured, taking your only free hand to lay one of his on your swollen belly.

"No...? No?" He repeated, then scoffed, "So, why is it I was - "

"False labor," Alicent cut him off, making his jaw steel as he glared at her. "It can occur, the mind tricks the body into thinking and reacting that it's time to deliver the babe."

"But it's too soon," he pointed out, "she's still, what? Two, maybe three months left?"

"It can happen," Alicent nodded.

He frowned, glancing at his brother, then to you. "I was with the Queen when I got this terrible pain," you explained to Daemon. "There was fluid and some blood under my skirt, we thought it couldn't be right, so, she brought me to the Maesters and sent for you."

Daemon looked vaguely surprised, leaning down to press his lips to your belly. With a sigh, his forehead rested on your bump, lifting to peck another kiss, then righten his spine, asking, "And now?"

"All was clear, I was brought back here, and your brother did not wish to leave me alone - but nothing else was able to be said before you arrived," you chuckled, caressing his cheek.

"Thank you," he told Viserys, sniffling as his eyes lifted to Alicent, "both of you, truly, thank you."

"We are family," Viserys assured, "we would not want to be elsewhere."

"There's a whole Realm to - "

"Sometimes, politics can wait and family cannot," the King spoke wisely. "We are simply relieved the Lady is feeling better and all is well. The babe will stay in her womb until the end, should she remain in bed."

"Oh, Gods, Viserys," you groaned, "we agreed not to tell him that!"

"You agreed, I did not," he shot back at you.

"What do you mean, brother?"

The King answered, "She is to remain in bed until the end of her term - with natural limitations."

"Which means?"

"She may move around the room, but not much farther; she may use the privy, keep her blood circulating, but she is to remain down for most of the time as it will help keep the babe in place."

He nodded rapidly, "Of course."

"We'll let you rest," Alicent told you both softly. "I'm sure you want time with your family."

"Actually," you sighed, "might I ask for one more favor?"

"Anything, name it," Viserys agreed.

"Take Visenya for an hour? Daemon and I need to speak privately."

"Of course," Alicent nodded, stepping up to the bed. She waited as you and Daemon promised Visenya you'd be with her soon, that you needed an adult conversation, and after giving you both a kiss on the cheek, she marched off the bed to take Alicent's hand. Viserys hobbled out after them, and when the doors shut, Daemon deflated.

"Oh, Seven fucking Hells," he muttered in a muffle against your belly. He let your hands rake into his long strands of hair, pulling any knots, just soothing him with the scrape of your nails. "I was so worried," he admitted quietly, "I just - I did not think. I have feared this possibility so much, I think I tricked myself into thinking it was reality."

"What's that, my love?"

"The Curse... The Targaryen Curse."

"Daemon - "

"We were so lucky with Visenya," his tearful eyes lifted to meet yours, "and half of the pregnancy was wasted on our worry that something would go wrong. I might've created this reality."

"You did nothing," you promised. "Neither of us caused this, it's just what happens."

"But you've suffered for months," he whispered, eyes reddening by the second. "You had endless nausea, you threw up daily, my love, you developed night terrors, and you cannot say it was anything but ideal."

"Perhaps not ideal, but so perfectly us," you answered, watching him stand with a frown. "Daemon - where are you - "

"I only mean to change," he promised, already shedding his clothing and boots and weapons belt. When he joined you in bed again, he laid off your legs but beside them, head on your belly to hold and letting your hands rake through his platinum white locks again. It was quiet for minutes longer, just enjoying the other, but he whispered, "I should've been here."

"We did not know."

"Still," he frowned, kissing your bump tenderly, whispering, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't here, but do not take it out on Mummy. She's so brave," another kiss, "so very brave to take the time and give you the most perfect place to live for now. We can't take it out on her. Not Mummy, anyone else, but not Mummy."

You felt yourself dozing off, humming in contentment when Daemon took note and started a conversation with the babe - just simply detailing his day. He said there was soon to be another clutch of dragon eggs and their sister would choose the most perfect egg for them; being all Visenya's spoken of for weeks. He told the babe how excited they all were to meet them, but when he noticed you were asleep, he hated himself for getting out of bed.

It was only to pull a dressing robe on and locate his daughter; being easy as she was in Alicent's arms two halls over - both admiring the tapestries. "Daddy said this was a big fight," Visenya was heard, pointing at the drape.

"He's right," Alicent nodded, "this depicts Aegon's Conquest."

"Big dragons," she sighed dreamily, looking at the stitching. "That's Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Cousin Laena rides Vhagar now."

"Very good, sweetheart," Alicent praised.

"My Queen," Daemon called, approaching almost stiffly.

"Daddy!"

"C'mere," he grunted, accepting his daughter as she lunged for his embrace. "Thank you," he told Alicent.

"Is everything all right?"

"She's resting," Daemon nodded, trying to hide his fear from his voice but Alicent saw it in his eyes.

"The Maester's know how to help, my Prince," she assured softly. "She might fight against the limitations, but it's for everyone's health. She'll be okay, Daemon," her hand reached out to gently touch his forearm, "her body just needs time to adjust."

With her words thrumming in his mind, Daemon spent the next several weeks at your bedside. He was everything and more: he got you water, tea, anything to eat; always making sure you ate even a little SOMETHING three times a day. He made sure you took your medicine, wiped your flushed skin with cold cloths, braided your hair to keep it off your flesh. He read to you, rubbed your ankles and feet to help any circulation of clots, held your trembling form when you threw up. Daemon remained strong where you felt weak, doing whatever he could to assure you that your predicament wasn't a burden to him.

"You're not listening!"

"All I do is listen!"

"Daemon!" You snapped, "For weeks now, you've been at my every beck and call - catering to my whims. You are not canceling flying with Visenya, she'll be crushed."

"But you're closer to your birthing," He pointed out sharply.

"And I have not moved from this bed in days," you snapped back. "I will endure another day of this if it means you go take Caraxes out, I hear he's been a right menace."

Daemon shook his head, but something in his posture fell from defense. It made you sit up a little and beckon to him, his hand reaching for yours as he dropped to the place beside you; leaning against your mountain of pillows. "I do not know how to do this," he whispered, leaning his head to the crook of your neck in a vulnerable show of emotion. "And I know we are learning together, but I feel pulled apart - that I will disappoint one of you while catering to the other."

"My sweet husband," you whispered against the crown of his head. "You worry for nought."

"I worry for all," he whispered. "Visenya needs me, Viserys needs me, Caraxes needs me, the bloody White Cloaks need me, you need me - "

"Do not stress yourself further about this," you insisted. "Viserys has other advisors. Visenya has her aunts, uncles, cousins, anyone she could play with. Caraxes does need you, yes," you chuckled, "but he's also violently independent so I would not worry about him. And I am under the care of the Maesters, so I'd argue only the White Cloaks need you - you are their Lord Commander, after all."

"No," he refused, "I am a husband and father first, brother second, Prince of the City third, and Lord Commander fourth. I will be where I am needed, I just do not have enough hours in the day to do it all."

"You do not need to do it all," you whispered.

"You all need me."

"Visenya and I, yes," you agreed, "your job is important, too... Fuck the rest. 'S just noise."

He chuckled, you felt the pull of his lips on your neck. He hummed into your flesh, licking gently before pulling back to mutter, "I wish you could come with us."

"I do, too," you smiled softly. "But I'll be right here for you both to come back to - tell me all about it."

Daemon chuckled, "Surely."

Speak of the Devil, and He will appear.

"MUMMY!"

"Vizzy!" You half-scolded, laughing when the door burst open to reveal your daughter in her dragon-riding gear. Not a moment later, your usual handmaid, Carlee, appeared out of breath, sighing with relief when she located Visenya. "I'm so sorry, Carlee, she's just like her father and avoids all authority," you laughed when the little girl climbed onto her father's lap.

"No, I apologize, Lady," Carlee panted, "I-I tried - but she - she's very fast."

"I've got her," Daemon dismissed stiffly, your glare doing nothing to him.

"Thank you, Carlee, we've got it from here," you amended to the kind, portly woman with greying red hair. She bowed out as you reached over to tickle Visenya, "And you, my little monster! Didn't I tell you to stop giving the nice ladies a hard time. Hmm? Yes?"

She laughed happily, squirming in Daemon's arms. He 'saved' her by snuggling his nose in her neck; the squealing continuing as she shouted, "He's tickling me, Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Help me, Mummy!"

"Mummy can't help you," Daemon playfully growl, gnawing into her neck as she flailed in his grip.

"Daddy! Stop it!"

He sighed dramatically, "Oh, I suppose I could... If a certain princess promises to behave from now on."

"Of course, Daddy, it's riding day!" She exclaimed, settling more in his lap now that he stopped tickling her. Because it wasn't often that Daemon took her riding, she was usually always on her best behavior to ensure her favorite day actually occurred - but that didn't mean it was an exact science.

"Visenya, be good for Daddy, yes?" You directed, puckering your lips for her. She pecked them quickly, promising to be good, and then rushing away when Daemon told her to go get her gloves and boots. When alone again, he looked at you almost sadly.

"One day, we'll fly as a family," he promised, forehead to your own. "Do you need anything, love?"

"I'm good, thank you, though," you whispered. Then, your hands caressed your belly, sighing, "Not long now, huh?"

"It's both the longest and shortest time of my life," he laughed lightly. "But soon, we'll pray for the quiet of your womb again."

You laughed, bringing him in for a kiss. He reciprocated before you pulled back, insisting, "Go, before she burns the Keep down. You know Caraxes would do it, too, that beastie would do anything she says."

"So would we," he winced.

"We might wanna work on that..."

"In time," he teased, kissing you again. "Stay put."

"Yes, sir." He gave you a look, making you amend, "Yes, Daddy."

He chuckled, kissed you a final time, and then rose. Just as he was exiting the door, you heard him yelp your daughters name before a small bang - making you think Visenya had run full sprint at him and knocked him back a step or two.

Another few days dragged by. You were agitated, you were stir crazy, you were on the shortest fuse known to man. Visenya liked reading to you, working on her writing skills with you in bed; she even got to practice her hair braiding skills. When you snapped at servants and maids, Visenya was always chiding, "Mummy, that's mean."

She kept you level-headed.

Daemon was a wreck, however.

He was only one person and the fact that he needed to be several was far too stressful than he was ever willing to admit. "Daemon, my love," you called sternly, "stop your pacing and come here. Lay with me, please."

"I do not get that luxury - "

"It is not a luxury to nurture your seed in my body," you deflected. "Now, come here. Now."

Daemon glared, "Do not think you command me, woman."

"The vows we took certainly think I do. Armor off, boots off, hair down, get the fuck over here - now, Daemon."

He sighed and grumbled, grunting as he did what you told but made it known he wasn't happy about it. When he was dressed in nothing but linen trousers, he laid beside you. "Now what?" He snapped.

"Now hold your wife and child and just fucking breathe," you shot back, readjusting so you cuddled into him. "You reek tonight."

"Your list of demands did not include bathing, excuse me, Princess," he sneered in a condescending tone.

"Daemon, I just want you to take a pause," you bit. "You've been runnin' 'round with your head chopped off since finding out about this... This complication."

"I have much to do."

"I know, and that is why it's important to just slow down and simply breathe. Please, just breathe with me, Daemon, I need us both to be as okay as we can be for when this babe finally comes."

"There's no time - "

"We make our time,' you insisted. "Please, just pause."

He did, Daemon actually paused to just take a deep breath. After one, he took another... Then another, and another until he was doing it with ease and confidence. "I'm sorry," he whispered against your forehead, bringing you in closer. "I do not mean to take it out on you, pet, I am just... Well, you know."

"I know you're worried," you sighed. "Which is why we need this. Tell me of your day, today?"

Daemon didn't want to at first, but then relented and started on a snowball tangent that explained his foul mood. You listened, ear pressed to his pectoral; hands tracing absent patterns on the contours of his abdomen. Daemon usually tried his best to restrain himself with you, but you actively encouraged him and the more he talked, the more words that spewed from his mouth in a messy jumble. One arm remained wrapped around you, keeping you close, and his free one moved about in exaggeration.

"And to top the day off, you know what the bloody Septa told me? The one Alicent insisted was worth utilizing?"

"Septa Amelia?"

"Whatever," he huffed.

"What'd she say to you, my Prince?"

He sighed at the endearing tone you used for his title, knowing it wasn't a reference to his real station but instead, a pet name you had for him. Daemon sighed, "That Visenya might need shipped off to Dorne to attend that grueling, military school."

"She's only just turned five - "

"I am aware," Daemon cut you off. "I cursed at her before taking Visenya."

"Good, then I shall know who to yell at, too," your voice hardened. "Why do they complain about her so? 'S all I bloody hear, how our daughter's wild and untamed - saying we are unfit parents by the looks of her."

"She's fire in her blood because she is the Dragon's Seed, just as this one is, too," His hand laid over your belly. "And yet, I cannot understand why others voice their opinions on our family, which they are not entitled to an opinion on. Visenya grows within the Red Keep, she is not some wild animal, but perhaps, she lacks stimuli."

"How could we remedy that?"

"A tutor... Or a few, perhaps. From across the Narrow Sea," he told you, already sounding like he wasn't as angry as before. "Find us proper tutors who will take her on as a student to guide her where we cannot - and where others give up. What kind of a man would I be to ignore what someone blatantly needs that I can easily provide?"

You offered a small smirk, taking a fond note, "This isn't just 'someone', Daemon, you speak of our daughter. You're so good at this, you know... Taking care of us. Daddy takes care."

He tightened his hold, "I always will, my sweet."

It was quiet again, your stomach churning with discomfort; questioning, "Though I am wondering what she did today to prompt such a comment?"

He scoffed, "So, she set fire to some curtains, who bloody cares - "

You gasped shrilly as you sat bolt upright, "Visenya did what!?"

"No, hey, no," he reached for you, "no stress, no - "

But you were hobbling out of the bed before he could stop you, grumbling the entire time; yet the moment your feet hit the floor, you paused to heave for breath, stood, and felt the trickle of fluids from between your legs. "What?" You gasped, realizing what just happened, begging, "What? No, no, no, no, not now, little one, please, stay in there!"

Daemon vaulted himself over the bed and was at your side in an instant, guiding you to sit once more and promising, "I will get the Maesters. Just ease yourself, no stress, no worries, I'll get help - I'll get the Maester's." He meant to move away.

"No," you insisted, reaching for his tunic's collar to grip, yank, and hold him close, "I need you with me. We all do, please, do not leave me to do this life alone. D-Daemon, please, I'm so scared, do not leave me, I can't do this without you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, taking your hand to hold, "but I need to get you help. Please, my love, you need the help."

You whimpered and got back on the bed by yourself as Daemon raced for the chamber door. He only took half a step, then shouted, "YOU! HEY, YOU! GET THE BLOODY MAESTERS! NOW! YOUR PRINCE DEMANDS IT!"

Ignoring whatever else he shouted, you got comfortable as the cramps began to twist in your lower gut - shooting pains down your legs, up your back, even tingling into your fingers. Sweat took hold of you like a bad fever, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew something couldn't be completely right. This sensation was strange, it wasn't at all a feeling you had when pregnant with Visenya.

Hours drug by as if sap dripping from a tree.

Your pain increased; sweating, grunting, moaning, groaning with displeasure. Daemon was stoic and quiet, just watching you writhe in pain as his heart cemented in his chest to sink into his feet and anchor him there. Visenya wasn't anything like this; he'd been present for that birth, too, and remember thinking how easy it appeared since the baby practically fell out of you.

This was much different.

"My Prince," the Maester approached him with a deep frown, "a word?"

"What?" He snapped, watching the Maester step to the side. Daemon sighed and followed, glaring, arms crossing as he demanded, "What is it?"

"My Prince, the babe will not come. I do not wish to beat around this bush, so I will tell you plainly. Sometimes, when the fetus is in a compromising position, a decision must be made: either the babe is cut from the womb and it survives or they both die or only the babe dies - there was a way to remove the baby surgically if that's the case. But you need to choose."

"Why do I have to choose? It's her decision - her body, her life, her choice."

"She is delirious with pain," the Maester deflected, "and if the babe is a boy, wouldn't you rather know and have him?"

"And lose my wife?" Daemon growled. "I think the fuck not. You will not put this decision on me, it is for her to decide."

He pushed past everyone to take the spot beside you and instantly pick up your hand. "Daemon," you sobbed, "for fuck's sake, please, please, just let this be over. Get the babe out."

"You're almost there, sweetheart."

But one of the Septas assisting the Maesters squeaked in mild alarm, and when Daemon looked, there was a significant amount of blood blooming under you. "She's bleeding, could be a hemorrhage," the Maester rushed, lifting your thin gown to judge the birthing canal.

"What's wrong?" You asked in a half-slur.

"Nothing, you're okay," Daemon assured softly, kissing your hand.

Your screams through labor echoed through empty stone halls. Your pain was tangible, your fear paramount. "What's wrong!?" You begged the room, "Why aren't they coming? Why won't our baby come?"

"We're trying, Princess," A Septa spoke softly.

You only cried until your exhaustion outweighed your consciousness; your mind going blank, eyes rolling back, and slipping into the weighted darkness from the blood loss. Daemon frantically shook your shoulder, begging, "My love, please! Wake up! Wake up now! What's going on!?"

"There's too much blood!"

"I told you to choose!" The Maester snapped at Daemon. "Now they will both lose their lives!"

Daemon felt his chest hallow - figuring the words were true enough. He couldn't decide, he refused to, and now you suffered and the possibility of losing your child was larger than before. "My Prince," a Septa approached, "you need to wait outside."

"No - "

"They need to operate, you cannot linger here," she insisted. "You will be called for."

He steeled his jaw, pointing a warning finger at the Maester, "Don't make the cut else your loved ones will only see you on a spike around the Red Keep."

Prince Daemon waited outside for another few hours. He paced, he refused food and drink, he simply wanted to be in there with you but had to begrudgingly put faith into the medical team working on you. He smirked when he saw his daughter, Visenya, round the distant corner and sprint up to him - Carlee chasing her.

"Are you skipping lessons, again, Little Dragon?" Daemon grunted as he caught his daughter - swinging her onto his hip by using the momentum from catching her.

"Where's Mummy and the baby?" She demanded.

Daemon sighed, "The baby doesn't want to come out, yet, love, so we can't see them yet."

"But it's been a day, Daddy!" She whined.

"I know, pet," he sighed with a frown, glancing at the closed door. "It's all right," he told the maid, "she can remain here with us."

"My Prince, she'd miss - "

"Lessons? You dare try to say lessons are more important?" He snapped.

"Daemon," Viserys frowned from his wheelchair. "Your anger is misplaced."

He hummed, readjusting his daughter on his hip as Alicent dismissed Carlee; letting Daemon begin to pace again. When the door opened, he whipped around, but only an in-training Maester slipped out of the room - giving no time to peer inside. "Well?" Daemon demanded.

"We are still working, My Prince, but I am to fetch more material," he answered, nodding once, then dashing away. It did nothing to settle his nerves, in fact, they tripled when the lad returned with a procession of aids - all carrying different material. They reentered the room, and Daemon felt his heart snap.

"Stay with Uncle, Little Dragon," Daemon told his daughter, approaching Viserys, offering him the child to which he accepted. "Stay here, do not move, Daddy has to check on Mummy. Yes?"

"Is she sick?" Visenya frowned.

"I'll check, my love."

"I can go, too, Daddy."

Daemon sighed through his nose, his daughter making him melt into a pile of nothingness - but reminded himself to stay firm. "No, love, you just stay here and Daddy will check," he assured softly as Viserys lifted his hands to keep hold of the young girl and ensuring she did not follow Daemon when he nodded, turned, and shoved through the door into the birthing chamber.

"My Prince!"

But Daemon couldn't move.

There was blood everywhere. Soiled linens, a drenched nightgown, scattered puddles of splattered life source across the floor. You looked delirious, confused; not fully present in your mind, and when he noted the Milk of the Poppy, he understood your pain was trying to be managed. Blood painted up and down your thighs; blood pooling under your cunt, but there was a baby's head visible.

Startled, he rushed for your side and knelt to take your hand. "My love," he breathed, "can you hear me? Are you with me? Please. Please, sweet wife, open your eyes and look at me."

When you did, he could tell you were unfocused and unsure who he was before realization dawned over your facial expression. "Daemon," you whispered, squeezing his hand slightly.

"I'm here, love," he promised. "Right here - I'm with you."

"The baby?"

"Almost," he promised, watching your eyes flutter.

"She needs to push, my Prince," the birthing maester instructed. "C'mon, c'mon, now's the time - push! Push, Princess, push!"

"C'mon, love!" Daemon encouraged, watching sweat glisten over every exposed surface of skin; jaw clenching, bearing down and pushing with might.

The screams echoed through the Keep, only drowned out when a storm rolled in that evening. The thunder masked the profanities shouted, lightning accompanied by each scream of pain as birth split you in half. Daemon did not leave your side, encouraging you through the entire ordeal, his trousers saturating with your blood as more dripped to the floor as you pushed, pushed, pushed, and pushed with all the strength you had.

"You gotta keep goin', love," Daemon would tell you, "gotta keep fightin' for this - don't stop now. I need you with us, our children will need us, this is not something I can do alone. Please," he begged, "do not make me say goodbye. Not until we're fat and old, remember? Huh? My precious love, you're almost done, but you have to keep fighting. It'll be worth it, soon. Just keep going!"

By the following morning, a babe was being pulled from your cunt with a gushing wave of fluid and blood - reminding the Maester very briefly of cattle birth. However, while relief colored your system, the medical attendants felt panic flood theirs - muttering, hushing, consulting the baby to the side as the Maester saw you through the afterbirth. "W-Wait," you slurred, "wh-where are they? Where? Daemon, wh-what is it? Girl or boy?"

He frowned, Septas, Silent Sisters, and other maids all huddled together without your child in sight. "I-I do not know, yet, sweetheart, but remain calm. The worst is over..." But when he looked down at you, he noticed how still you laid and felt his panic skyrocket. He begged your name several times, demanding you wake up, but you remained silent and still - skin even turning clammy as sweat dried. Daemon was actually pulled out of the way, two Maesters attending to your side, and he felt impossibly in the middle.

To his left, his child. To his right, his wife. Both of whom appear in distress, both of whom hold his worry. "She's clots again," he heard from the Maesters. "Not breathing," he heard from the Septas.

So, this is what Hell was like...

A shrill cry pierced the air, adrenaline draining from Daemon's blood as he realized this only meant the babe was okay. When he was approached with the bundle, he worried, "She should be the first to hold them."

"It's all right, my Prince," the Septa spoke softly, "you may hold her now, and later, you can lay her on your wife's chest."

Daemon nodded, taking the baby. He blinked, "Did you say, 'she'?"

"A girl, my Prince, healthy, strong, full-term."

"What's wrong with her?" He demanded. "Why does my wife not wake?"

"The blood loss," a Maester muttered, "'s gotta be the blood loss."

He couldn't move or breathe. His daughter screamed, still, but he was terrified by the sight of the Maesters flocking over your still-body. Daemon protested, but once more, he was asked to leave the chamber and had to be escorted - but he wanted to remain. He wanted to linger, to watch you, to ensure you were taken care of... Yet the bundle in his arms wriggled and sobbed, reminding him that he had a responsibility to his daughter that needed his attention.

"Daemon," Alicent perked up when the door opened, eyes widening at the sight of the Targaryen swaddle.

"Brother?" Viserys worried, eyes glistening as he assumed the worst.

"She's... She's not waking up," He spoke without emotion, "the Maesters are still working."

Viserys nodded, holding a sleeping Visenya on his lap still. "You need rest," he recommended.

"No, I think I will stay," Daemon refused.

"You can't function this way," Alicent tacked on. "The Maesters will still be at work, and even after, she will not be awake for hours. Milk of the Poppy is potent, and with her exhaustion, it's sure to be an intense combination."

He nodded slowly, "I want to be here."

So, Daemon remained.

He let Visenya sit with him on the stone bench outside the birthing chamber; his brother remaining to offer moral support alongside his wife until royal obligation can calling. He remained stoic, holding his daughter and only passing her off to the wet nurse when a feeding or cleaning needed attended to. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when the doors opened, Daemon shot to his feet; leaving his infant daughter in Visenya's lap.

"She's asking for you," the Maester told Daemon, smirking slightly when the Prince charged for the room. He looked around at the disarray and how dwarfed you appeared in the bed; sheets still saturated with blood.

Never before had he felt such relief, dropping to his knees as if in prayer at your bedside; tearfully picking up your hand to kiss the back of it. "You're alive," he whispered in shock, "oh, bless the Seven, you're alive - you're still here with me. With us."

You could only manage a tired, half-smile, "Can't be rid of me that easy."

He snorted his amusement, "Thought I lost you for a moment there..."

"Sorry to scare you," you whispered, "but 's not easy pushing a baby from your cunt, huh?"

"No, definitely not. Especially a Targaryen, born of Fire and Blood," he looked close to tears, "they are known for their harsh entrance into this world."

"I'd endure all of it for our children," you mumbled, taking a long breath. "I'm tired, Daemon."

He looked to a lingering Maester, the one in training, asking, "Can she move back to our chambers?"

"She might not want to walk, yet," the lad advised, "but yes. Perhaps a familiar environment will help the healing process."

Daemon had a Maester carrying his infant daughter and escort Visenya to your living quarters while he brought you. He laid you in bed, ensuring your comfort before taking his daughter back in his arms, dismissing the staff, and telling Visenya to change into her loungewear. They were going to take a nap with Mummy...

"Daemon?" You mumbled.

"I'm here, love," he rushed to your side, "you all right? What do you need?"

"It's hurting," you frowned.

Daemon laid your daughter beside you in bed, furthest into the mattress, so he could prepare your next dose of Milk of the Poppy. Visenya, changed for the lazy day, jumped into bed with you, smiling at her new sister as Daemon changed himself. When he joined you in bed, he kept the baby between the two of you as Visenya deflated on Daemon's chest. She all but instantly fell asleep, both parents allowing for several long minutes to pass; ensuring their slumbering state.

"Did you pick a name?" You asked, tracing your fingertip along your baby's belly in soft, ticklish motions.

"Not yet," he answered. "Thought that should be a decision we agree on."

"I have no preference," you told him softly, "I'm just relieved she's here."

"You and me both," he whispered, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "You did such a good job, sweetheart, to endure this Targaryen Curse for our family - such a good job."

You smiled at him, catching his lips in a full kiss as the poppy released into your bloodstream. "I love you," you promised him.

"I love you," he echoed; the serenity surrounding you both in a warm embrace. Unable to help himself, Daemon teased, "So, when do you want our third child?"

You both had to suppress your humor to protect your sleeping daughters from being rudely woken.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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suugarbabe · 9 months

Text

magical creatures | m.r. x reader

prompt: may i suggest hufflepuff!reader, or just shy reader who often hangs around by herself or at hagrids hut helping w the magical creatures. yknow the type of person who no one notices is in class cuz she’s so quiet and he’s like,, enamored lowkey bc she’s so gorgiana but so shy. maybe draco calling her a mudblood and matty’s like abt to get in a fight w his own cousin bc of it.

word count: ~2.1k

warning: fluff

an: the end is a little shite, but the rest is good so bare with me.

It was both a blessing and a curse to see thestrals. They were very unique magical creatures in that only those who have seen death can see them. It makes sense, given their appearance. The black skin, the skeletal body, the reptilian face and the wide leather wings. To the unknowing wizard, the animal looked like it came straight from muggle hell. Historically, it was an omen of misfortune to see one, but they were protected on school grounds and oddly enough, they gave you comfort.

You often found yourself out in this part of the forest after you had a particularly hard day. Hagrid was always kind enough to give you some raw meat to feed them, and this was the first day you could see the new foal since she was born. You tossed a portion of meat its way, the foal slowly coming up to sniff it. Once it had a taste, it came up to you, sniffing your bag and begging for more.

You laughed at its enthusiasm, gently petting its neck, “You’re just trying to find your way, aren’tcha bub. That’s okay, me too. This world is hard, but you’ve got your mummy here, she’ll protect you.”

A snapping of twigs made you freeze. No one came to this part of the woods, no one but you and Hagrid, and he was going to be gone for another few hours. You stood up slowly, taking your wand from your jacket pocket.

You held it tight to your side, trying your best to make your voice sound intimidating, “W-who’s there?”

A boy slowly crept out from behind a tree, his hands up in a surrendering position, “Don’t stupify me, please. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Your grip on your wand loosened slightly, but to say you were confused was an understatement, “Riddle? What’re you doing out here?”

“Could ask you the same thing. What’s a badger like you doing out in the forest?” He wore his infamous smirk, and you weren’t sure if he was trying to be charming, or getting ready to bully you. The lot he hung around, was the leader of more like, made it tough to decipher his motives at times.

“I was just…feeding the new foal,” you gestured towards the creatures behind you.

He looked at you curiously, “You can see them, too?”

You stood up a little straighter, “Yes, Mattheo. I can see them. Slytherin’s aren’t the only ones who can come from a tragic past.”

Mattheo chuckled at this, “Okay, fair point.”

You looked at him curiously, “What're you doing out here?”

He smiled sheepishly now, “I was watching you.” You raised your eyebrows at this.

“Not in a creepy way!” He tried to assure you, hands straight out in front of him. “I just, I’ve been noticing you.”

“You’ve been noticing me?”

“Yeah, I mean. You’re…nice to look at. And you’re…cute when you’re with animals.” His cheeks tinted pink at the confession.

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck, definitely not expecting that from him. You offered him something to feed the foal and he quickly accepted. You watched at he knelt down to the ground, hand extended as the foal slowly walked up to him.

He spoke in a hushed tone, “S’alright, mate, I won’t bite.” You smiled at the scene before you, rough and tough Mattheo Riddle being soft and gentle. He stayed with you in the forest for another hour or so, both of you getting lost in conversation.

He had offered to walk you back to the castle, but you insisted on needing to stop by Hagrid’s before dinner, encouraging him to go on without you.

After that first encounter in the forest, you expected yours and Mattheo’s relationship to go back to the way it was, which was nonexistent. But the next day, when he saw you in the hall’s he ran up to you, quickly falling into step to ask you how your day was going and if you planned on “feeding any strange animals after classes”. He started doing that often, finding you in the hall or after class, asking when you were going to visit some magical creature and asking if he could tag along.

He found himself fond of how soft you were with them, no matter how rough the creature seemed. He would tell you about the grindylows he could see from his dorm window, and the way your eyes lit up made him wish he could take you there and show you himself, just to see your smile take up your whole face again.

He had made a vow to himself to never subject you to the ridicule you would get if he brought you to the Slytherin dorm. Not because you were a hufflepuff, but because of your blood status.

As a half-blood he knows that most Slytherins would look at you like a roast to feast on and their utensils would be harsh words and hexes. Over the last several weeks he found himself growing protective over you.

Around you he didn’t have to put on a mean face, didn’t have to act tough, he could let his guard down. The Mattheo you knew was not the Mattheo that everyone else saw. Where others saw brooding and flying fists, you saw gentle touches and whispers.

You never expected you would ever call Mattheo a friend, but it seemed that’s what he became. Where you were once invisible in classes, you found Mattheo staring at you. When you were always able to slip past your peers in the corridor, his hands always found you, pulling you to his side.

You weren’t naive, you knew the looks you were getting, but with Mattheo near you, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care. At least that’s how you thought you felt, until you found yourself being dragged by said boy to the Slytherin table for lunch one afternoon.

“Mattheo, no, there’s no way,” you really thought he had lost his mind.

“Oh c’mon, darling, it’ll be fine. We’ll sit at the end or something. I just wanna have lunch with you, pretty pretty please?” He was batting his eyelashes at you. His stupid, dumb, long and beautiful eyelashes and looking at you with the most pleading amber eyes.

You huffed out a long sigh and Mattheo cheered silently in victory, slinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you to the table.

You sat down across from him, listening to him ramble about his latest potions assignment as you filled your plate. The longer he talked and joked the more relaxed you felt. It seemed like it was not going to be as bad as you had made it out to be, until a head of bleach blonde came into view.

“Ya lost, badger?” Pansy Parkinson thought she was clever, but in reality she was just the same as a lap dog, following Draco around like a pathetic lovesick puppy.

You shook your head no, looking down at your plate. “Fuck off, Parkinson,” Mattheo’s harsh words head your head snapping up to watch the scene that was unfolding in front of you.

Draco tsked, “Oh cousin, ran through the lot of Slytherin women already? Needed to find yourself a little mudblood to entertain you?”

Mattheo was up so quickly it seemed like your eyes had glitched. The smirk was immediately gone from Draco’s face as Mattheo gripped the collar of his robes, teeth gritted as he spoke to him, “Don’t use that bloody fucking language around her, you understand me?”

If looks could kill Draco’s funeral would’ve been yesterday. He seemed to understand how serious Mattheo was because the most he answered was a grumbled ‘yes’ before brushing his robes off and walking away, not even sparing you a second glance.

When Mattheo turned back to you his eyes were full of remorse. You spoke before he got a chance, “S’okay, Teo. Let’s just go. We can feed the thestrals before curfew if we leave now.”

You started towards the doors, Mattheo quick to fall in step beside you. When you reached the top of the hill you stopped. Mattheo looked at you quizzically, “Y’alright, love?” You nodded your head, giving him the biggest grin before taking off running toward the forest.

Mattheo stood frozen for a moment, in shock of how cheeky you were being before his brain caught up with him and he darted after you.

“You know I’m captain of the quidditch team, love!” he shouted towards you. You shouted back over your shoulder, “Yeah, well you seem to be struggling without your broom, sir!”

This bit of banter seemed to spur Mattheo further, his feet seemingly moving faster and getting closer and closer to you. You could sense him getting closer, and you could help the butterfly feeling that started to build in your chest.

You reached your familiar spot, bracing yourself on a tree when you felt hand grab your waist and turn you to face him. “You cheated,” he was breathing heavy, but his tone was still playful.

“I thought Slytherin’s were cunning, guess I was wrong,” you shrugged your shoulders, biting your bottom lip gently.

He reached up, cupping your cheek. The pad of his thumb tracing your lower lip, dragging it down slightly. Your breath hitched slightly, watching as his eyes flicked from your lips meeting your eyes again.

You stared into his eyes, wondering if what you think is going to happen is about to actually happen.

“Can I…” he questions, trailing off tilting your chin up. You nod slightly, then his lips capture yours. It was tentative at first, like he was afraid if he kissed you any harder you’d disappear like a dream.

He pulls back, breathing slightly heavy, giving you a silent look as if to ask, ‘is this okay?’ You press your lips back to his as an answer, with more passion this time. It’s wet and messy, tongues dancing as his hands caress the soft curves of your body, pressing you harder into the tree.

He bites down on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth causing a whimper to leave your throat. You pull him back by his hair and he lets out a desperate huff. You start to kiss down his neck, finding his pulse point and sucking a fresh hickey to his otherwise flawless tan skin.

You lean back, a smirk spreading on your face as you admire your work. “Proud of yourself, love?” Mattheo’s voice vibrates against your skin, his nose nudging playfully along your jawline. You nodded your head, “Very proud.”

He was looking at you now, hands resting on your hips, but still pressing you into the tree slightly. His face had fallen ever so slightly, looking a little sadder than the moment called for.

“I’m sorry for Draco earlier,” his tone was pained, like he was hurting just thinking about the earlier interaction.

“S’okay, Teo. It’s not the first time someone’s said that to me. Honestly I don’t even think that’s the first time Draco has said it to me,” you laughed a little, but Mattheo could see it didn’t reach your eyes.

He cupped your face again, thumb rubbing soothingly on your cheek, “He’s never going to call you that again, I’ll make sure of it. He should’ve never said that to you in the first place, or ever.”

You grabbed Mattheo’s face, holding it in your hands and making him keep eye contact with you, “Thank you for being so protective of me. It really does make me feel safer.” His cheeks were straining against your hands as he smiled.

“Please, please understand that as long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter what other people say. Even your cousin, okay? And if he is ever ever mean to me again, which I think is likely. You have my full permission to transfigure him into a ferret again.”

Mattheo laughed at this, a full hearty, deep laugh and you wanted to hear that laugh all the time. Wanted to bottle his joy and happiness and release it on your toughest days to bring you cheer.

Mattheo followed you back to Hagrid’s hut, getting the supplies you needed to feed the thestrals. You watched as he played with the foal. He looked as carefree as you’d ever seen him as you wished he could feel this way every day. The way he looked back over his shoulder, child-like grin adorning his face, you knew you wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x hufflepuff!reader #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle fic

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devoutekuna · 2 days

Text

Family bonding

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

Sukuna never brings his child around his followers, finding them unworthy to grace their eyes upon his offspring. Sat in a vacant room, laid out on the floor as he watched his followers trying to entrain him, dancing around, telling stories or jokes. Nothing could suffice him, a pile of heads adorning the corner of the room, yet to become of everyone. Small giggles being heard from the slightly open door, pink hair sticking out from beside it as he looked at it, hands working magic as he sliced their head off, ushering for the next person. Door slashed open just like those people, leaving wooden remains all around. "Show yourself" crimson eyes peering out from the last standing part of the door. A smile glistening on her face, flashing her canines at him. "Papa!" Running towards the king. A smirk on his face as he felt his daughter's embrace, staring at the one servant who raised their head just for it to be cut off, leaving no witnesses to the matter.

"Next!" Motioning for the next person to come in, only to receive the news that there was nobody left, leaving a pile of corpses in the corner of the room, blood seeping towards him.

Gojo-

"Won't mummy be mad?" Sat in his father's arms as he fought a curse, using his infinity to block all the attacks, still flinching from the idea of them getting through. "Not if she doesn't know" grinning at the little boy, he loved to mess with you, hearing you scold him was some of his favourite highlights. "But still" covering his head in his father's shoulder, white hair rubbing against his neck. "If you're that scared we can go home" exorcising the curse as he looked away, making sure not leave a mess and just use the excuse that it ran away. Kicking his leg into his chest on accident. "No!" Smiling at how much his son wanted to spend time with him.

Nanami-

"If your going to stay in here, help me out" trying to declutter his office. Taking down a box full of files, throwing them onto the sofa since he knew that they were no used to him. Reaching for the next one as he noticed a small pair of hands reaching towards him first. "To me" on her toes as she reached for it, wanting to be helpful like she said. "Don't drop it sweetheart." Handing her the box, noticing how she reacted by lowering her body, waddling over to the sofa since the box was too big for her. "Ooo, what's this daddy?" Pulling out a memory box you two made when you reached your 10 year anniversary. Ripping the box open before he could even get a good look at what she was talking about. Ripping the box from her arms, not knowing what she would discover if she opened it up. "Awh" folding her arms over her chest, trying to act cute to get it back. "Let's leave this up here" straining his arms as he put it back up.

Geto-

He's rambling on about his stupid followers, talking about how useless and belittling them, cup in hand as he took a few sips of the drink before he carried down talking. "Here you go daddy" running up to him with a new glass of milk, having it come out of the microwave, it was warm, but still a little cold. Ripping the other cup from his hands, running back to the kitchen to hand it you. "Thank you sweetheart" smiling at the girl as she seated herself next to him, leaning her body onto his.listening to whatever he had to say despite not understanding the meaning behind it at all. "And then they have the nerve to say something about my actions!" Maybe he was drunk with the way he was acting. Small hands leaning over to grab the felt tips, refusing to get out of her comfortable position only for her father to step in and pass them to her, stroking her hair in the process.

Toji-

"Keep up" strolling in the park, he would've kept his normal quick pace but he had his daughter with him, both dressed up in pyjamas as they walked through the park. He was only here because the lines for the food truck were shorter at nighttime. Nightie swaying in the wind despite her coat. "Wait up daddy!" Running up to him to try and grab his hand, only to grab his fingers because she was too short. Picking the girl up as he sped up, wanting to get back before you woke up since he knew you would scold him.

Sat on the bench eating some ice-cream, it was a quick stop by to the shop before they made it to the food truck since she was so hungry. Wiping the ice-cream off her nose with the spare tissue he had. "We've got to go before your ma' wakes up"

#geto fluff #gojo fluff #nanami fluff #sukuna fluff #toji fluff #geto x reader #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #sukuna ryomen #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk #𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎𝙺𝚞𝚗𝚊

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bloodsoeur · 3 months

Text

lifeblood 18+ (astarion x fem!reader)

As you step closer and drop the basket on the ground he throws a palm up at you. Short, ragged groans. “That… tea. It’s done something to me. The old wretch.” - astarion discovers an aphrodisiac during a trip to the night market, and only one thing is on his mind. cw: breeding, afab reader, mommy kink (brief), sex pollen, comfort, sexual frustration, zero plot, p in v wc: 2.5k, if there are errors no there aren't; enjoy!

The Night Market is particularly vibrant this evening, people and creatures of all description wandering the streets browsing various wares - and so when Astarion feverishly takes your hand and pulls you away from your browsing in a staggered gait; your immediate thoughts are all telling you to watch for danger.

Wicker basket in arm, flailing as he weaves you both through the tepid mulling crowds - a harsh whisper when you scramble close enough to ask ‘what is it?’ - he’s unrelenting in his pursuit, eyes searching off to each alley and aside between stalls. It’s not until he finds a gated passage a little along that his momentum stops and he drops to his knees to pick the lock; then jumps up and pulls you through with a harsh grasp on your upper arm.

You await the slam. The frantic recollection of whatever it is that has him so wary, the whispers and heads over the gate as you duck your way back home from wherever you’ve now ended up.

Had he been caught thieving? Surely not.

Instead though, he surprises you.

He begins to fiddle with the laces of his trousers. Panting. Brow furrowed into a crease and typically-deft fingers losing hold of the lacing with a pained yowl.

“What is this?”

As you step closer and drop the basket on the ground he throws a palm up at you. Short, ragged groans.

“That… tea. It’s done something to me. The old wretch.”

You bypass his hand and bring the back of your own to his forehead, feeling a clammy sweat atop his brow and a slight heat broiling. The tea you’d turned down around half an hour ago, before you’d split for your own respective market gains.

“Gods - Astarion, the aphrodisiac? Of course it has - you okay?”

As you speak he brings your wrist to his nose and huffs it. A haggard wail. Snorts the salt of your skin and gives a strangled curse. He finishes the laces of his trousers and works to free his cock, looking from it to you in a desperate plea.

“Here? Now? What in the hells is going on?!”

“I can smell it. You. You’re so…’

Another huff. His other hand bounces his cock in his palm, spidery strings of prespill linking pale skin.

‘Fertile. Like a cat in heat. Gods, I- I don’t know what this is.”

His hips rut with insatiable want into the air.

“How do you feel?”

You take him in one hand while wrapping the other around his shoulder in a soothing sail. A few gentle pumps to bring the skin around the head down; a thumb down his slit, literally leaking now. He sobs.

“I’m burning.’

He writhes against the wooden gate, still standing. Tender cries from his wet, wanting mouth.

‘It’s painful. I- I need you. Please.”

“What do you want from me?’

A deliberate, slow jerk; your wrist turning effortlessly.

‘How can I help you, angel?”

For the first time in this whole sorry sequence his eyes meet yours, red turned a dangerous carmine.

“Don’t make me say it.”

You squeeze him in your palm and he wails.

“Maybe I want you to say it.’

He thrusts deeply into your hand and screws his eyes closed, panting in habitual breaths. You lean close to his flushed ear and kitten-lick the inner skin with an intentionally wet tongue.

‘Say it for me. Say it for mummy, darling.’

When the word leaves your lips, his head whips to you furiously. Eyes round and brimming with tears. Bottom lip trembling. Your foreheads meet and you soften. Your poor boy.

‘Do you want this? Or would you like to go home, Astarion? I’ll draw you a bath, we can-”

“I want this. I need- I need to-’

You shuffle away, lifting your skirts and fiddling at your own underclothes to loosen them down your thighs. When he sees your own spool of arousal connecting cunt to cloth he jerks furiously and advances behind you, this time in your ear.

‘Let me fuck you. I’ll make you a mummy. I need to-’

Your fingers disappear deep between your legs, arching your ass into him; and emerge drenched in clear jelly slick - a film connecting them as they splay.

He’s shaking now. He can smell it more vividly than he’s ever been able to smell anything. His hands press over your lower belly; the womb ripe for fertilisation, the way he can envision himself sunk to the hilt and ebbing at the entrance to your cervix, his seed leaking directly into you with each prespill pulse and throb.

‘I need to put a baby in you. I need to breed you.’

He regains control for a brief moment as deft fingers work their way down your front and to the top of your pubic bone. If you were to stop and consider then you know there’s categorically no way he could impregnate you, and even if so; it’s not something you’ve considered to any realistic extent.

‘This won’t go away until I do, sweetheart. I can feel it.”

There’s a solemnity to his whisper, you note. A consideration.

A sadness, maybe?

You wonder how literal he is. If this has triggered some latent need to knock you up. If your fertile days will be spent with him filling you to the brim with his undead spend, over and over; until he somehow manages the impossible.

A stack of crates nearby. They’ll do for this.

You lead him now, a shepherd; to the boxes and hitch your skirts over your ass while you bend over the dry wood.

“If you let me do this, I won’t be able to stop.” Astarion’s voice cracks in the whisper while looking at your glistening cunt with admirable restraint. You feel yourself leaking down the soft skin of your thigh - your own arousal catching on the cool night air.

“I don’t want you to stop.’

He descends on you after a dazed moment to steep in your words, testing the waters with nimble fingers edging between your swollen lips.

‘Fuck me full. Breed me.”

“You’re so ready, aren’t you? Little minx.’

A wretched groan.

‘You want me to get you pregnant? I can feel how ruinously soaked you are - tell me, is this what you want? Have you wanted this for a while?”

When he speaks it’s simply silken. Syrup. His fingers feel excruciatingly good as they round your lust-engorged clit, babbling nonsense in a lusty haze.

“Gods. Yes. Yes. Please, please fuck me. Spill into me.”

The fingers are merely customary. He knows what he wants, and you want it too. Each wanton wiggle of your hips, each brush against your ass cheeks. The blunt head of his cock settles just broaches your entrance as you hear him suckle on his fingertips coyly behind you.

A low hum of approval.

“Good. My darling girl.”

On darling, he begins his relentless campaign.

Once settled at the hilt he stops for a moment in a weighty groan, eyes rolling back into his skull as you turn over your shoulder. His hands settle in a firm grasp on your hips. At this moment he’s determined. Needy. Your cunt is the relief he so desperately seeks and he takes a second to adjust so he can hump you properly. To ensure the seed settles once he’s gathered the momentum to have it spurt deep into your womb.

He feels ridiculously good like this.

Like a meal to the starving, water in the desert. The wet glubs accompanying his shallow thrusts are evidentiary to just how much you need this. Him buried inside you - rattling on like a madman. Talks like his mind will never be the same again.

The only thing in his brain being the unfettered desire to make you round.

“I’ll take you back here again, in a few months. When you’re- when you’re round and aching. Keep your arm in mine at all times so- so they all know just who did this to you.’

A few shallow ruts before he ploughs back in deep.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I- I feel your heart racing, darling. You want my babies? You want to make me a daddy?’

He cants his hips at the breech of your cervix, not pulling back, simply moving to adjust himself inside you. Ensuring his prespill leaks into your waiting womb with each rock of his pelvis.

‘Because I’m feral thinking about making you a mother. All glowy and swollen, my baby inside you.”

His clammy hand slaps your ass, heavy balls smacking on your clit with his terse thrusts.

“I- I want it. I need it. Please.”

Your moans are directly into the dry wood, face now pressed to the side against the crates. Lips swollen from your own attempts to bite back your lewd proclamations. Spit forming a glob of drool in the resting corner.

You’re smiling. Beaming. Gods.

Had you wanted this? Had it been some subconscious desire of yours to mother his children? Has some sketchy tea from a Night Market vendor done this to you through his prespill seeping in? Made you realise just how you wanted your life with him to look?

You’ve not planned for this, but no fear overwhelms you at the thought of the possible outcome of your breeding session. The thought of him sat beaming over your child. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen; yours, your family, everyone knowing your devotion to each other in the most lifelong sense. Infallible and real and capable of producing something beyond yourselves.

As he continues his pursuit you wonder if they’ll have his eyes. Fangs. Dhampir aren’t a common breed. They’re far too difficult to rear.

But there’s something potent in the way he piles into you where you can begin to see an entire brood of them. Dhampir.

The sheer determination behind his smacks, the way you ass burns each time his palm meets it in a sharp slap. His chuntering warbles - moans, grunting, the light pleading;-

The light pleading.

He’s reaching around your front and holding your lower belly as he fucks you, a slight falter to his pacing.

Poor thing.

“Feed.” You whimper, brushing all hindrances from your neck and arching into him once more so he stops his thrusting.

“I- I can’t. I can’t risk it not taking. This isn’t going away, love.”

His voice cracks, a desperation once more.

“I said feed. Feed on me, my angel. Then fuck me full of you.”

He keeps inside you as he leans over your back, hands moving to feel for your nipples under your blouse and lightly jerking the peaking skin. He stills for a moment in an attempt to regain some of himself.

“Yes, mother.”

You both fall about laughing until he corrects your stance with an urgent tug and waits no time to sink his teeth into the long-standing wounds on your neck.

From his position he can’t thrust, stretched over your back like some heavy battlecloak of old.

You warm him with genuine delight at no risk of him growing soft and feel the way his pretty cock pushes against your ridges in the most minute way. His suckling from you in order to eke out your lifeblood, becoming his own once swallowed. The saccharine pool of metal red gathering under his tongue with each lap.

Once finished, he lifts with renewed vigour. Wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and cackles something wicked.

He gives you no time to adjust before he resumes his conquest on your body, a brutal thrust giving you cause to wince into the crates below you. You whip your head around to sneer at him which earns you a sheepish smile.

Each snap brings you closer. The white heat boiling, spluttering in your gut threatens to spill with each mutter from his blood-smeared mouth.

“I’m close.” You whimper.

He leans over you once more.

“Milk it from me, love. Cum for me.”

The whisper tips you over. Each rolling tidal wave of ecstasy as his thumb strokes the side of your distended clit is molten in extremity, each clench of your cunt vice-like around him. His roaring laughter ecstatic as he rides you through your peak like some seasoned rancher.

Whoever has set up stall by the alley is definitely aware of your brutal fucking. The thought of them discovering you has you in near shambles as you reach the end of climax. Being discovered. Something else that’s relatively new to you, but not unpleasant.

Then, he gasps. Trembles. Shatters. Through the haze of your orgasm you feel him stutter on weak legs and the vulnerability you’ve come to know so well has blinked back into the frame.

“Tell me I can. Now. Quick.”

“Knock me up. You can do it, baby.”

Eyes still round, Astarion humps your ass in anticipation one more time and spills with such force it sends him reeling into audible ecstacy. Each twitch of his cock inside you milky smooth in your combined secretion, blood-pinkened slit spurting, the sheer control as he presses impossibly deep into your waiting cunt. You find yourself rolling back in your own delirium.

His orgasmic rutting doesn’t stop for a long while. A series of beleaguered moans, the way his humming pitches with each slap of his hips; each of his taps against your cervix causing you to clench further and therefore feeding the cycle.

When he does eventually stop, his face buries in between your shoulderblades; arms wrapping around your waist. Silence.

“Astarion, love - are you okay?”

A feeble whisper. Back still arched, his weight on you.

“I’m- I’m so sorry.”

There’s a teary singe to his quiet words, reverent kisses planted on your own now-sweat laden skin. He sniffs.

“It’s okay! We all make mistakes. She did say it was an aphrodisiac, to be fair to her. Is it still affecting you?”

“No, not that.”

“Then what?”

He sniffs once more and wipes his face with the back of his hand, using your hips as leverage to stand.

“I- This. All this. I didn’t want it to come out like this, ideally.”

You shuffle a little and he slips from between your legs, taking your underwear from the floor and turning to face him whilst you roll the garment over your thighs.

“What? That you have a raging breeding fetish?”

He taps your arm lightly and laughs a little, lacing up his breeches.

“Well. Kind of?’

He pulls a face and brings you close, moon overhead gleaming in the cool night. A slight breeze.

‘I don’t know what I want, per se; but I think I like the idea of… Well. This.’

His hands roll over one another as he plants a soft kiss atop your head. You lick your thumb and wipe any remaining blood traces from his lips.

‘It feels ridiculously sordid and entirely dangerous, but the moment that… stuff hit my blood I knew what I needed. I could smell you miles off. Still can.”

“You want to put a dhampir in me?” You laugh, waggling your fingers near his face. He groans.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.’

You kiss the back of his hand as you reach for the discarded basket.

‘Not until you’ve done it, anyway.”

#my writing #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #nsft

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just-some-random-blogger · 5 months

Text

You'll Remember You Belong To Me

Loving and leaving Daemon were the two best things you ever did in your life. He disagrees with the latter, however, and is convinced you'll come back.

Mafia!Daemon Targaryen x Estranged!Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, modern au, toxic!Daemon, mom!reader, exes trope, manipulation, typos, etc.

A/N: HI everyone. it's been so long since I've written anything ): I JUST CANT WRITE HUHUH but inspiration struck me so im running with it!! this is inspired by You'll Be Back from Hamilton so I suggest you give it a listen! Also it's kinda fucked up so read dis with care!!!!

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa

"Papa!" a hushed but excited voice calls.

Daemon grins and gets down on one knee. The little boy with burning white hair runs towards his papa's open arms and jumps into them.

Daemon embraces and kisses his son. He then throws him over his shoulder as he stands, making him giggle. The man asks as he head over to the open door, "where's mummy?"

"Cooking with Vivi."

"Oh," Daemon walks inside and takes his shoes off, "do you and Visenya help mummy cook?"

The boy cheers, way too loudly to his father's taste, "YES!"

Daemon immediately hushes the boy and sets him down. The boy is red in the face and giggling. Daemon gives him a lopsided smile and brushes his bangs out of his face, "remember what I told you, lovie? About keepin' a low profile."

The boy nods, "it's our secret mission," he raises a finger to his lips, "a surprise for mummy!"

Daemon chuckles, "very good, Baelon."

Baelon grins from ear to ear.

"Now, before we surprise mummy, tell me where you put the phone I gave you."

"I hid it underneath my toy box! Mummy never looks there."

Daemon pinches his son's cheeks, "good boy."

Baelon giggles under his breath.

"Remember not to let your mother catch you when I call again, okay?"

He nods.

"Right," Daemon stands, "you can go tell mummy daddy's home now."

With that, Baelon runs off and practically busts a lung screaming, "PAPA'S HERE!"

Daemon follows the child, and hears a high pitched squeal from the kitchen. Soon enough, his beloved Visenya is running towards him, "PAAAPPPAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

Daemon scoops up the little girl in his arms and covers her face with kisses, "ah, my baby girl."

He twirls the girl around and after a 360, he is met with a deathly glare. Daemon smirks, "hello, baby girl."

"I am not your baby girl," you snap as you march towards him. You mutter under a groan, "and you're not supposed to be here."

Visenya tightens her arms around her father's neck. At a point, her blonde hair looks like it was Daemon's. He blows a raspberry onto her neck, his eyes on you the entire time, "my place is where my family is."

It takes everything in you not to explode, but you don't; you'd never do that in front of your kids.

Daemon knew that well.

That didn't stop you speaking your mind though, "this is from the man that uprooted our life in King's Landing because of a business plan gone wrong."

That makes Daemon tick. He puts down Visenya, much to her displeasure. The girl claws at Daemon's jeans, wanting to be in the arms of her father again but is ultimately ignored. "You knew what you were getting into when you married me."

"That's why I know better than to let the man I once loved conceal, lie, and cheat on me."

Your words really sink into him when you pick up Visenya when she burst into tears. Of course, she wanted nothing to do with you and so desperately clawed out to him, but the image was really sobering.

At least for a moment.

"Give her to me," Daemon says.

You glare at him and mouth threats laced with curse words.

Baelon runs up to him with a toy bus, "papa, can we play?"

Daemon looks down at his son and smiles. He crouches down, "of course, darling," he looks up at you, "we'll play with Vivi."

Visenya immediately wrangles out of your arms and you have no choice but to set her down.

As much as you wanted to grind his guts, you knew your children loved their dad. They so obviously missed him dearly.

Daemon sprawls belly-down on the floor without hesitation. Visenya and Baelon fall into their usual play mode and you take a deep breath before heading back to the kitchen to finish cooking.

By the time you were finished and calling for them and their joke-of-a-father to come to the table for lunch, you find yourself alone by the dining table waiting for seemingly nothing.

You were about to go get your kids, that is until Daemon walked over.

Your face immediately morphs into distaste. It makes Daemon chuckle, "that bad?"

"Where are my babies?"

"Our babies are napping," he says, pulling a chair back. He sits down and tilts his head, "I'm here though."

You make a disgusted face.

Daemon laughs. He missed your face very much.

You cross your arms, "what did you do to them?"

"You're accusing me of doing something to my children?" he chuckles in disbelief as places a hand on his chest.

"They never need to take naps."

Daemon shrugs, "you don't play with them hard enough."

He realizes his mistake when your face contorts.

"I didn't hurt them," he waves his hands, "I just made them chase each other around until they burned out."

"Good then," you point to the door, "leave."

He narrows his eyes in offence, "I promised I'd be here when they woke up."

You throw your head back in laughter, though you found no amusement in his words, "that wouldn't be the first time you lied."

"I've never lied to Baelon or Visenya."

"You think you deserve a consolation for that?" you snap, turning around to lean on the sink. You wash your hands even though you've just washed them, "I told you I would leave. I told you I would leave you if you kept up your bullshit."

Daemon stands and walks towards you.

You don't look back but you knew he was closing in. You didn't need to look; you could feel him. You knew exactly what he would do because you knew him like the back of your hand.

This was why before he could do anything, you turned away and flicked water into his face.

Daemon stills in his spot, taken off-guard.

You decide to finish cleaning up before you eat.

He wipes his face, "and I told you you'll be back."

You scoff as you tidy the counter, "am I the one crawling back?"

"Is that what you want?" Daemon raises a brow as he walks over.

You still in your spot when he drops to his knees.

"I'll crawl and beg," he whispers as if it was something solemn.

You watch him inch closer and before you have the brain to move, you let out a gasp when he grabs your thigh.

It didn't help that his palms were warm and your skin was cool from wearing shorts and damp from washing dishes. It didn't help that you hadn't been touched for so long and that your skin grew goosebumps.

It didn't help that he had it all figured out.

He kissed your thigh once and the next moment, he had you pressed against the counter, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, nearly lips to lips.

Daemon traps you between his arms, hands gripping the counter on both your sides.

You could smell him so clearly now. It did something to your stomach. Your hands wanted to instinctively reach out to him, but you thanked the gods you knew better than that.

"I'll atone for my sins whichever way you want," he murmurs, "just let me see my kids."

You press your hands on his chest, ready to pull him away, "I know better than to believe you."

Daemon waits for you to push him back. When you don't, he doesn't hide his smile. He grins and takes your hands, kissing them.

Your breath is pulled out of your lungs.

He shakes his head, "you don't have to believe me. You just have to watch me."

It wasn't right, but the feeling of his lips on your skin was too familiar to resist. Daemon kisses your hands, up to your wrists, up to your shoulders, then your lips were trapped between his teeth and you were pulling him in.

The only reason you stopped was because Visenya walked in on you, scratching her eye, asking if she could have help getting a plate of food.

You watch as Daemon smiles at her. You watch as your daughter giggles as her papa gives her a plate and kisses her cheek before telling her he's going to go wake her brother up.

You watch as he carries Baleon and sits him down next to him. You watch him dote on them and it nearly makes you forgive and forget all he's done.

Daemon knows better than to think you'd do anything of the sort.

And even though you sit across from him holding a look of spite, he gives smirks back and prepares you a plate.

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #hotd angst #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon x you

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heehoonieluvs · 8 months

Text

Mornings with you

Parents Jay x reader

Fluff, smut

The way that the members are depicted in this story has nothing to do with how they really are or how I feel they are. It is all solely for the storyline so please bear that in mind 🫶

Summary: Mornings were absolutely perfect with your husband and your two baby boys but Jay has been waiting too long to have you to himself

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names, joking of an accident, irresponsible driving, car sex, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (please lmk if I need yo add anymore 🤍)

Series masterlist

Masterlist

The sweet cry of your 5 month old baby woke you from your deep slumber. As you stretched your arm out, you noticed the absence of your husband but just assumed he was at the gym just like every day off for him. You dragged your feet over to the cot by your bed and was met with your little human with fat tears of hunger. He looked so adorable in his little swaddle and no matter how many times he woke you up with his crying, your heart still melted every time

“Good morning ducky! Don’t cry, mama’s here” you cooed at the little bundle

From the sound of your soothing voice, your baby instantly calmed down and hiccuped. His bright eyes stared up at you and he smiled so sweetly. As you undid his swaddle and lifted him out of his cot, his tiny legs scrunched up. He snuggled into your chest and let out tiny gargles when you cuddled him and you just wished that you could stay like this forever

You sang ‘Polaroid Love’ to him as you slightly bounce him and made your way out of yours and Jay’s bedroom. There was music playing from downstairs paired with the voices of your husband and toddler singing along. A smile was plastered on your as you made your way to the racket and the sight in front of you made your smile even wider

The two of them looked so cute with their pyjamas and fluffy bed hair bouncing as they danced to the song. Your 3 year old was a spitting image of his father and he barely carried any of your traits. You could tell that your youngest was going to be the same but you couldn’t complain since your husband is so cute.

The sound of your footsteps caused them to turn in your direction and quickly, your toddler pattered over to you

“Mummy! Daddy made ankcakes!” He jumped enthusiastically with both hands gripping onto his favourite breakfast

“Oo yummy! Can mummy have some pancakes as well?” You squatted down to his eye level

Being the sweetheart that he was, your son fed you a bit of the pancake in his hand and let out an excited squeal when you took a bite

“Thank you monkey” you pinched his chubby cheeks and stood up to face your gorgeous husband

The fond smile he had on his face was enough for you to fall for him all over again. It radiated so much warmth and love that it made you feel all mushy inside.

He came around the kitchen island with a fresh pile of fluffy pancakes in the shape of hearts to wrap his free arm around your waist. As he pulled you in, he pressed a kiss to your temple and another kiss on your baby’s forehead that was resting against your shoulder

“Good morning my princess. Did you get a good rest? I didn’t mean to wake you with the racket” he mumbled

“I did my love thank you. And you didn’t wake me don’t worry. It was this little munchkin calling for his breakfast” you smiled and bounced your baby slightly

If he could, Jay would’ve stood there just staring at you but his daydream was interrupted by your toddler asking daddy for uppies. He let out a laugh before picking up your son who then leaned to over to you to give you a slobbery kiss on the cheek.

As he looked back at his pancakes and then saw yours, he let out a tiny whine to his dad

“Daddyyy! Why did mummy get heart ancakes? What about baby?” He pouted and patted his chest to emphasise how he felt betrayed

Jay stroked his son’s head before explaining “You got Mickey Mouse pancakes remember buddy? Then you ate them all up like a big boy”

His eyes reflected so much adoration as he looked at his pouty son. Luckily, your toddler instantly had a massive grin as his father jogged his memory of the fun pancakes. With a giggle, your son climbed down from his dad’s embrace to eat the rest of his pancakes and ran off to the living room to watch his favourite cartoon

Jay dragged a seat out for you to sit down for breakfast before taking a seat next to you. Since your baby needed feeding, you started to breastfeed him whilst Jay fed you your pancakes like the gentleman he was.

“By the way, I let my mum know that I’ll drop the babies off around 2pm. Everything is packed so you don’t need to worry about anything” he carried on feeding you as he was talking

The two of you barely got to have some time alone so Jay took the time to organise his days off so that he could have you all to himself. Having the babies already took a lot of time but Jay’s hectic job was also a massive factor. But now that he was going to have a few days off, he was going to take advantage and get you all alone before spending the last few days off with you and your babies

Fortunately for the two of you, Jay’s parents lived very close and never passed on the opportunity to babysit their grandchildren. And because they had retired recently, it meant that they could help to look after the boys when you were too tired

Your baby unlatched from you so Jay took is as his cue to take him and start burping him whilst you fixed yourself and finished your breakfast. Once you washed your plate, you joined your boys in the living room to watch some cartoons. It was moments like this where you wanted time to stop and just capture everything around you

Your toddler was on his stomach, drawing in his colouring book but getting distracted by the TV every so often. And your husband was next to you with his head on your shoulder with your baby lying on his chest sucking on a pacifier. You all stayed like that for a bit till it was time for you to get your babies ready to go to their grandparents.

It seems like you were blessed with the most well-behaved kids ever as they didn’t make a fuss when you got them ready. Jay’s parents would always joke about how that was one aspect the babies were different from their father who in contrast, was a mischievous child who would run away.

In the car, Jay had put on the baby playlist for your toddler to sing along to whilst his baby brother stared at him with a smile. You looked at Jay to admire his perfect side profile as he concentrated on the road. It was like he felt your gaze on him as he turned to look at you with a smirk

“You’re staring beautiful” he mumbled whilst bringing your hand up and placing a kiss on you knuckles.

Your cheeks heated up and you turned away, pouting

“No I’m not”

He chuckled and ran his thumb over the back of your hand as they remained interlocked on your lap

To Jay, it felt like absolute torture not being able to touch you they way he wanted to ever since the babies were born. Even before you had your youngest, it took ages before he could get the time to make love to you. It didn’t help that your toddler was a mummy’s boy and would throw a fit whenever you were out of his sight for too long. Jay was glad that your babies got more used to staying with their grandparents so he could drop them off and devour you on every surface of your shared home

He gave into temptation and removed his hand from yours to grip your inner thigh. You turned to him in shock but all he did was squeeze your thigh whilst keeping his attention on the road. For the sake of your kids, you kept your composure and just let your husband carry on with his antics for the rest of the journey

After what felt like hours (it was 10 minutes), you finally made it to Jay’s childhood home where his parents were already stood at the door with bright smiles on their faces. When Jay parked up, you both got out to get your babies. Jay had your toddler and the bags while you had your baby. The four of you made your way to your in-laws and they greeted you all with open arms.

Your babies seemed absolutely fine with being dropped off, which you were so relieved by. Your mother in law offered you and Jay a drink but Jay quickly declined

“No it’s ok mum Y/N and I need to rush back now. Thank you for taking the babies”

He kissed your sons’ heads before dragging you back to the car with a cheeky grin, resembling a kid getting excited to play with their new toy. You and his parents laughed at his enthusiasm and you blew kisses to your babies. When you got in the car, they waved back (with the help of their grandparents) and it tugged at your heartstrings. Seeing them so far made you second guess whether you should just take them with you.

Jay could see your hesitation so he gave you a soft kiss on your cheek

“I know you already miss them baby but you’ll see them in two days. And they love being at their grandparents so you don’t need to worry your pretty head” he whispered sweetly and stroked your cheek

“And anyways, daddy is in need of mummy’s full attention”

The car journey was absolute torture for Jay as you were kissing and licking his neck whilst rubbing on his hard bulge. Seeing how much he was struggling made you giggle but you still wanted more. You unzipped his pants and slipped your hand inside to get his dick out. It looked so painfully hard and the precum leaking from the tip made your mouth water. As you pressed kisses to his jaw, you used your pointer finger to lightly run up and down his length and swirl is around his leaking tip.

“Oh fuck baby, please don’t tease me” he moaned and threw his head back. Luckily you guys had just pulled up to a red light so he rolled his eyes back and tried to catch his breath

“What do you want me to do then daddy?” You cooed and looked at his with bright, not so innocent eyes

“Suck daddy, princess. Suck me good and daddy promises he’ll make your legs shake when we get home” he stroked your head softly and slightly pulled you down towards his crotch

You felt that he had suffered enough so you instantly took his entire length into your mouth. He jolted from the sudden feeling and let out a moan that made you gush in your panties. He hips automatically thrusted into your wet mouth and you whimpered from he constant moaning. The vibrations of your satisfying whimpers added another level of pleasure for you husband that his slightly drifted on the road. From sudden shift, you took your mouth off him

“Love, if you’re not gonna concentrate on the road then I’m gonna stop” you warned

“No no no baby please carry on. I promise I’ll concentrate this time” he begged and grabbed your hands

“Hmm I don’t plan on you causing an accident so you’re gonna have to wait my love” you lightly tapped his cheek and gave him a peck before settling back into your seat

Jay zipped his head towards you in shock, thinking that you were only joking. But as he saw you clean yourself up, he let his frustrations bubble over. Without any warning, he forced his hand between your legs and rubbed at your covered heat harshly. The sudden stimulation caught you off guard and you threw your head back in pleasure

As he rubbed your clit over your lace thong, he growled out “You think you can tease me and just get away with it princess?”

His slender fingers moved the lace to the side before running down to your soaking entrance. Without needing to spit in his hand, he slipped his middle and ring finger inside, curling them to hit your g spot

At this point your were screaming as your head rolled to lean on the window. His fingers sped up and he used the palm of his hand to rub on your throbbing clit.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum daddy” you whimpered as tears started to fall from the overwhelming pleasure

At your warning, he retracted his soaking hand from your pussy, causing you to cry out

“That’s what you get for leaving me high and dry angel. It isn’t nice is it?” He teased whilst licking his fingers of your essence “You wanna make it up to me my pretty?”

You nodded without hesitation

“Then come suck daddy off again like a good girl”

And with that, you immediately crawled back over to his side and took his throbbing cock back into your mouth. He moaned out whilst grabbing your head to push you further down. As soon as you found your pace, he brought his hand to cup your ass before bringing his fingers back to your pussy. Your moans felt so good and they vibrated onto his dick. He was so turned on by you and couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to have such a perfect, sexy wife who could do such nasty things to him. The squirting sounds coming from his fingers penetrating your soaking cunt made his eyebrows furrow. You were giving him such mind-blowing head that he felt like you deserved even more than him

As promised, he was driving steady on the road but he didn’t know how much longer he could wait. It would still be a few minutes till you got to the house but he needed to cum right now. So he turned a corner to a quite street and pulled up to the side

“Get up for me pretty girl. Make yourself comfortable so daddy can eat that wet pussy like you deserve”

You sat up with watery round eyes and Jay was convinced that he was going to ruin you in that exact moment. He pressed a button to make his seat recline all the way down so he was lying down. You tilted your head in confusion so he chuckled and squeezed your thigh

“Come up princess. Sit on daddy’s face like it’s your throne”

Even though you were shocked at his words, it didn’t stop you from scrambling up to crawl over his gorgeous face. He was quite literally drooling as your soaking centre hovered over him. If he had the strength to, he would’ve taken the time to admire your pussy as it clenched and dripped on top of him. But he was desperate and had forever to do that. So he grabbed your thighs and pulled you onto his waiting mouth. You tried to get up a bit so he could breathe easier but it seemed like he was against that idea. His hands forced you to rock your hips on his face so you couldn’t escape.

His perfect nose and tongue ran all over your sopping cunt and it looked like he was turning red from the lack of oxygen. Once again, you tried to get up, but he growled into your pussy, making you scream.

Finally, he moved his face away to catch his breath, but that didn’t last long as he instantly dove right back in. As you carried on grinding onto his face, you could feel a bit of movement as he brought his hand up to jerk himself off. The two of you were getting so high from the pleasure and you didn’t want it to end

One of your hands gripped onto the headrest of your seat whilst the other dragged down the fogged up window to steady yourself. The familiar sense of warmth started to build up in your stomach and your hips sped up. You grabbed onto the roots of his hair to press his face further into your pussy and that was exactly what he wanted. He moaned even louder into your cunt as you sped up and he jerking himself off faster

“Oh god I’m gonna fucking cum all over your face. Yes make me fucking cum daddy” you moaned

The two of you were moaning out and your movements were so fast as you approached your climax. Then the massive wave of pleasure washed over you as you came on his face. He carried on sucking your clit to milk it out as much as he could before he came in his hand

Jay grabbed your hips and pulled you down so he could give you some kisses to calm you down.

“That felt amazing pretty girl. So good for me” he said between pecks

You guys carried on making out with the music blaring from the radio. The kissing went on for a few minutes till you felt Jay bringing his dick to your entrance and running it up your slit. You let out a gasp as his slapped it on your sensitive clit and he laughed at your reaction

“Are you gonna let daddy fuck you princess? I know you have another in you. I’ve waited so long to fuck you like this again” he whispered into your mouth as he slowly lowered you onto his rock hard cock

He bounced you up and down, whilst thrusting up to meet your hips each time. The two of you held eye contact as your eyebrows scrunched and your mouths hung wide open, letting airy moans filter into each others mouths. His hands holding onto you were so gentle, as to not hurt you, but the movement of his hips were hard and fast, causing his balls to slap onto your ass

The hands holding onto you stroked up your back delicately before reaching your face to bring you into a sweet kiss. He stuck his tongue into your mouth to let you suck on it as you carried on riding him. The car was rocking with your movements and could definitely give away the nasty act you guys were doing

“Are you close baby? Are you gonna cum for me? Cum for daddy. That’s a good baby”

The volume of his moans increased with each thrust and you both came together. He pulled your entire weight down onto him and he wrapped his arms around you, wanting to feel every part of you consuming him. His body twitch from the intense orgasm as he remained with your body glued to his

You could tell that the pleasure was overwhelming for him as it had been a whilst since you two had been intimate. So as you tried to also catch your breath, you stroked his hair and pressed kisses to his sweaty temple. Neither of you wanted to moved so you layed on his seat, with him still buried inside of you, and listened to some music

As his breathing calmed down, Jay reached for another button to lift his seat back up. His other arm remained around your waist and his face nuzzled into your neck. Seeing his face rid of built up tension made him look so adorable that you could resist yourself from kissing him

He giggle from your cuteness as well as the tickling from your lips before moving his face to kiss you lips. His fingers danced gently on you back as he whispered

“Once I get you back home, you’re never leaving the bed. I promise you princess”

Author’s note: FINALLY!!! I’m so sorry this took so long but I hope this was worth the wait 😭 Thank you all so much for taking the time to read my works and I appreciate each and every one of you 🤍

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chocsra · 3 months

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"Eternal Damnation."

PM! dazai x fem! immortal reader

a/n: apolgies for my absence. i was planning to write but everytime i could something piled up 🙁. thank u to @cherylpoptarts for the sudden reqs which piqued my interest immensely. ill work on my pending requests another time. enjoy the angst.

summary: you, an ability user who is able to automatically heal has been alive for centuries, constantly avoiding death. in the midst of it all, you hire an assassination, not for anyone, but yourself.

content warnings: suicide, mercy killing, insanity, assisted suicide, angst, small oneshot/long drabble, pm! dazai, (i hate this sm)

Lukewarm.

A temperature that was not too cold or hot; tepid. Little enthusiasm or indifference.

Similar to the freezing snow cooling down your neck into your back during Japanese winters. Catching snowflakes in the heat of your palm did not melt the bitter cold engulfing your being. Lukewarm was your companion throughout the tedious years of this beautiful thing we call 'living'. Lukewarm is the only comfort you know of.

There was a cut that always bled, never fully healed, the scab that you reckon to always pick off. Lukewarm water would wash over your scabbed wounds, into your eyes, and swallow you whole. You'd watch your loved ones become engulfed in a scorching heat, the bubbling fire scraping and tearing over old, bitter skin.

You'd run your fingers over the freshly new skin and everlastingly massaged joints. You never became old. You never felt hurt. You never were hurt—for long of course. For healing was your salvation, your ability, your gift—your curse.

"Winter is over soon,"

you muttered softly, the melancholic rebirth of nature prospecting over the misty blankets of snow surrounding you. Spring. The season when flower seedlings, trapped beneath infertile soil, reawaken and sprout; revelling in rich petals and leaves, calmly drifting in the cool breeze. You've seen it one too many times; 134—to be exact.

"And that's your reason?"

Your eyelids never falter your solemn, sad look. Continue to stuff your hands deep in your pockets to escape the cooling air, huffing out as you also fidget with the origami you've been toying with. "I'm not sure what you mean," you reply, eyes gazing over to the melting body of water, a local river as you stand over its bridge. For it was a beautiful sight, nature did this annual thing called grow—rebirth, if you may. And as many others hated the cold breeze that nature gifted, somehow, you basked in it. —"You want me to kill you because winter's over soon."

...

Right, you forgot the predicament you were in. Merciful. Yearning. Bright. Though the man beside you excluded the exact opposite of those adjectives, you cannot help but feel this funny thing called desperation—besides, you've heard it all, no 'youngest mafia executive' is truly evil. To you, he is only just a boy, a foolish boy. "I have lots of riches. You can even take my house, it's not dirty money."

"I see,"

A harsh breeze of wind swiftly picked up the origami that you were crafting from your hands, reaching out to grab the piece—a cold hand catches it and holds the folded paper in front of you, extending his hand. "you forget that you can't approach mafiosos on the street pleading for suicide, y'know? That sort of desperation is seen as dirty."

On the surface level, his words seemed like an insult; it was utterly offensive to refer to a person's actions as filthy. However, there wasn't any hint of insult in his voice—he even seemed amused. He, was a young man wrapped around in a beige scarf and black trenchcoat engulfing his entire body; he, was practically swimming in it. He, had brown wavy locks that framed his face. He, for some odd reason, was covered in bandages. —not the gauze you'd find wrapping around wounds, one similar to a mummy. And he, who looked like he lacked self-care, though you would be able to take in his pleasant features.

"Am I pleading?—" You snatch the origami away from his hand, "It's more like a deal. Consider it a paid assassination." the brunette merely scoffs, light air huffing out of his lips as he stuffs his hand back into his pocket. "Our conduct doesn't consist of mercy killing or assisted suicide," the man chuckles, peering along the barely frozen body of water. "nor unarranged business deals. But I'd like to know one thing,"

You lift your gaze meeting his in curiosity, taking in the soft features of his face, yet he brimmed with impurity. The slopes of his cheeks were so slim, and that followed through his lanky frame - a face that didn't seem boyish at all. Merciful. Yearning. Bright. He screamed an antonym of those words —Cruel. Repulsed. Dark.

"Why is it you want to die?" he asks, watching intricately as you brush your thumb continually over the origami you were making: a crafted swan. The brunette seemed rather impressed, watching - your skills seem exactly like traditional art of origamis: something he'd see in an old painting or lost crafts book. Swans - which symbolised eternal love, you seemed anything but loving. Maybe, it had just been eternal. An eternity without love.

"My journey started with helping others live. But once you start taking the breath of living for granted, it becomes the very reason you wish to die. I. suppose I've met my limit with that. With living." you reminisce the past, the melancholic nights under blankets under the same winter—the spring, autumn, or summer. In the blessing of longevity, there was a problem; for what you've gained, there was also lost. Death of others—an eternity without love was your reality. Your resentful condemnation.

"I understand."

At this moment, the mafioso didn't seem so cruel; it was almost sympathetic, you'd think as he gazes over the river. "I've never understood the purpose of living if that makes you feel any better."

...

"You're not very good at comforting, are you?" an unexpected chuckle escaped his lips, "I'd at least expect an immortal to be a nihilist." you remotely scoff at his revelation. "Stupid. There's a reason why I want to die, I understand the meaning of living." the brunette rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. "Well, I don't understand the meaning of living hence why I want to die."

You chuckle, "For a mafioso, you are sassy."

"For a beauty, you are quite rude." He smiles indifferently.

It's almost funny, actually. How casual that conversation was.

Engulfed in the flames of this beautiful thing we call living, you finally obtain that sweet release of death the moment you intertwine fingers with a young mafioso—one who reeked of death.

The flames that engulfed you were lukewarm, but he was different. He was warm, almost scorching. Scorching an angelic heat that cascaded into the palms of your hand all the way to your shoulders and neck. The feeling was deftly abstract, and you basked in it; the way he'd hold you so close, run bandaged hands over the slope of your cheeks, whisper untangible nothings near the shell of your ear.

"Death is the absence of life, the desire I've been longing to taste since adolescence."

Mist and smoke fill around the room, almost making you feel dizzy. There were a lot of turbulent emotions circulating through your brain. First, you were relieved. You've been insensitive to death for a while, the times you did cry for someone—it was out of relief. The sweet relief that that one person would not have to suffer. You suppose it was the same for yourself. You would meet your demise in the arms of a fallen angel. Fall into the fiery pits of hell, or be welcomed by heaven's gate through a smoky embrace of whiskey and canned crab.

"I'm a bit envious of you, actually," Dazai murmurs, his thumb which was once connected to a trigger, soothingly rubbing your skin. "you'll meet this desire before me." you often wonder, what was the man's infatuation with death? He was in the mafia from a young age, he must've been associated with all forms of death. Ranging from a loved one withering away, to open guts and blood-stained lips. The absence of life can be seen through the empty carcass of one's body, the glint of vitality in their eyes disappearing.

Dazai Osamu was unique. In fact, he never had that glint in his eyes. His carcass was handsome, he was the product of love and passion. However, the eyes—his eyes, which were the window of the soul, were a dark void, abyssal, vantablack. He was unreadable. The brunette's experiences, his beliefs, his spiritual grounding. Dazai Osamu yearned for death, but for what he learned as just a boy, he did not meet death—but became it.

You had a connection. The special origami of a swan—meaning eternal love. He wanted eternal, you wanted love. In the end, none of you were happy. And so, he'll give you peace, and you'll give him understanding. The carcass you're going to become is much different from a being he merely murdered. Dazai moves a hand from interlocking with yours, to cup both of your cheeks. Warm and rosy cheeks.

"I'm sorry,"

He had fluttered his eyes shut and leaned his forehead on your temple. Despite the burning fire ignited by the candle of his flesh alone, his warm and shallow breaths gave you a balmy breather from this feeling called lukewarm.

Crack.

Lukewarm.

"I see you got what you wanted, huh?"

You stood atop a bridge from frozen water with a black scarf snuggled tightly around your neck.

A brunette man averted his gaze to you with a confused stare. The gape of which was rather familiar, one that excluded a slight glint of vitality, but other than that, abyssal. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

He adjusted the bandage on his finger, in which you assumed he cut his finger on something. "Nope. But I made an extra origami, do you want one?"

Silence. "..Sure."

The mysterious man picked up the crafted paper with suspicion. His gaze softens as he sees a professionally crafted swan. "I feel like we've met before—actually, I'm sure of it."

"Not too sure about that."

chocsra™

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itsjustpoopeh · 6 months

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another Jamie tartt headcanon based solely on what I think is funniest:

everyone thinks Jamie and his mummy were kind of estranged based on the way he talks at the curse fire and, you know, valid howEVER

I choose to interpret that as Jamie is the kind of mummy's boy who is absolutely crushed by the weight of his own evil when he hasn't visited mummy for a month

only called once this week? how very Dare

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #i refuse to let the hyperfixation die

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blackcatfilmprod · 1 year

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Hi Guys,

Tomorrow Boys 'n' Ghouls Film Review Podcast will be reviewing the classic The Mummy Film Franchise. So see you all then! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7jk82IaWzA

#Boys n Ghouls Film Review Podcast #Boys n Ghouls Film Review #Boys n Ghouls #Boys #Ghouls #Movie Reviews #Film Reviews #Horror #Classic #Podcasts #Podcasting #Podcasters #The Mummy #The Mummy Hand #The Mummy Tomb #The Mummy Ghost #The Mummy Curse #Lon Chaney Jr.#YouTube

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george-weasleys-girl · 2 months

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Second Chance Soulmate Pt.2

Season of Love Event

Start here:

Summary: George debates the wisdom of getting into another relationship

Warnings: a few curse words

~•~

"When are you planning to ask her out?" Fred asked, rummaging through a mountain of paperwork.

"What??" George snapped up from his own pile. "Who??"

"Y/N," his twin rolled his eyes. "The bookshop girl."

"What makes you think I want to ask her out?"

"Oh, I dunno," Fred answered with an absent-minded air. "Could be because you're over there every chance you get... "

"Mira loves the place," George interrupted. "She'd probably live there if I let her."

"Perfect! Mira already likes her. So, that's one hurdle you don't have to worry about."

"I. Said." George reiterated, enunciating each syllable. "THE. PLACE. Not the owner."

"Don't give me that crap," Fred huffed. You know as well as I do, Mira talks about her all the time. I'm surprised she hasn't talked your remaining ear off." Fred argued.

George leveled his eyes at his twin. "Just get to the point."

"Oh, I am, Georgie boy," Fred grinned. "You're avoiding reality. That's the point."

"Oh?" His brother leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "And what reality would that be?"

"That Mira likes Y/N. A lot. And so do you."

George's shoulder sagged, and he heaved a heavy sigh. "So what if I do? I've already fucked up one relationship. I'm not about to give a repeat performance."

Fred scoffed. "As I recall, you weren't the only one in that marriage. It takes two to tango, you know."

"Doesn't mean I wasn't a bad dancer," George mumbled and bowed his head back over his paperwork, completely ignoring his twins exaggerated sighs and eyerolls.

~•~

One month after the divorce

"I don't know what to do," Carlee sighed. "I've tried everything, but nothing works."

George looked down at his daughter, who lay curled up on his lap. "She eats fine when she's here," he glanced up at his ex-wife, then back down to Mira. "Why won't you eat for mummy?"

Mira shook her head and buried her face in his chest.

"Can she stay with you?" Carlee blurted out. "Just for a while... until she's eating properly again."

George didn't hesitate. "Yeah. Of course. She can stay as long as she likes."

Mira looked up and beamed at her dad.

~•~

"As long as she likes" turned out to be two years, and counting with Mira spending every other weekend with her mom, though it was supposed to be the other way around. That's what they'd agreed upon in the divorce. George thought it'd be best. A child should be with their mother. That's what everyone says anyway.

But Mira had other ideas.

He knew it hurt Carlee that Mira chose him over her. And, honestly, he was never really sure why. Whenever he asked her about it, Mira would only say, "You're my favorite. But don't tell mummy." It was a phrase that put him on cloud nine every time he thought about it. And he wasn't going to question it, lest his daughter think too hard on the matter and change her mind.

~•~

Present day

George sighed and poured himself a hefty shot of whiskey, wishing his daughter was here right now. Of all the days for Fred to zero in on his brother's sad single status, he had to pick today. Though, knowing his twin, the timing was probably strategically planned. George had just dropped Mira off at her mother's for the weekend, a long weekend, no less. Carlee was taking her to visit family, and they wouldn't return until Tuesday.

"Damn it, Fred," he muttered. "You knew exactly what you were doing today, didn't you?"

~•~

After downing the first shot, George poured himself another and headed upstairs. Kneeling next to his bed, he pulled out the box that held a few mementos from his marriage, including a photo album. He hadn't thought about it in months. But, tonight, with his twin's words haunting his mind, the past came rushing back. He took a heavy swig of whiskey and cracked it open.

Except for a few photos with only her and Mira, Carlee had left behind all their pictures. "I have what I want," she'd told him. "I don't care what you do with the rest."

For the first few months, he couldn't bear to look at them. But as time went on, it became easier, and eventually, George began the long process of sorting through them, saving his favorites in this photo album. The rest he burned in a fiery Unbonding ritual.

George's fingers traced over their smiling faces. It was all there, his and Carlee's time together. From beginning to end.

Their very first picture as a couple, taken in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Standing in front of the joke shop on the day of the grand opening.

Sitting with Fred as he recovered in the hospital after the war.

Dancing at their wedding.

Making funny faces on their honeymoon.

Both of them smiling, misty-eyed as they held Mira for the first time.

And so many other moments in between.

George sighed and took another swig. Once upon a time, they were happy and so very much in love. Then, bit by bit, over the years, it all crumbled into dust.

He turned the final page and smiled wistfully at the last picture. It was taken on their last vacation as a family. He and Carlee stood on the beach, smiling, standing side by side, their arms around each other's waist as Carlee held a giggly and squirmy Mira. They looked like the perfect little family.

A little over a year later, his world fell apart.

~•~

"You should burn every photo that doesn't have Mira in it," Fred had argued the night before the burning ritual. "Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll never truly let Carlee go."

George, of course, ignored his twin's suggestion, reasoning that he should at least keep some for Mira. Carlee was still her mother, after all. He shook his head and chuckled at the memory, then closed the album and slipped it back in its box under the bed. Fred was annoyingly right about a lot of things. But that was not one of them.

He did let go of Carlee. And though it had been a long, painful process, George's heart no longer ached for her. He no longer dreamed of a reunion. Even now, looking at those pictures, he didn't miss his ex-wife, so much as he missed having a partner.

Y/N suddenly flooded his thoughts, and he couldn't hold back the smile that spread across his face. Everything about that woman sent him flying over the moon. The way she always lit up whenever he and Mira came into the store. The way her hand would brush his when she showed them the newest books. The way she would always make a point to stop and chat with him whenever they saw each other on the street.

And her laughter.

He knew all her laughs. From her delighted giggles when reading to Mira, to her unrestrained belly-laughs when he told her one of his stupid jokes, to the occasional snort that sent an adorable bright pink blush blossoming across her cheeks.

Dear Merlin, he could so easily fall head-over-heels in love with her.

If he wasn't already...

George's heart clenched painfully, and his knees wobbled beneath him. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. How could his stupid heart go off and fall in love without him noticing? He wasn't ready. Not yet. What if he and Y/N got together and it didn't work out? No one needed to tell him that love doesn't always last forever. He'd experienced it firsthand.

Even so, he was tired of being alone and lonely. Mira helped. Of course she did. But she could never fill the gaping hole in his heart that yearned for the love of a partner. Despite what he told himself, George so desperately to be happy and in love again. And he had no doubt that he and Y/N would be happy together.

But for how long?

That was the question.

Two years? Five years? Ten? Twenty? His parents' neighbors, once regarded as "perfect for each other," recently divorced after 21 years and three kids.

~•~

George collapsed back onto the bed, suddenly bone-weary and soul-sick. The future terrified him. Too many possibilities. Too many what-ifs. It damn near destroyed him when he and Carlee split. Another heartbreak like that might end him once and for all.

Part Three

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1Lellykins @junerprsh @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe

@Smallsweetvanillabean @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @spididerman @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @theimpossible-girl-whowaited @ceehance @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @charmedfandomgal @loca4moony @whotfskai @netflix-addict

@moonatician @lunacurlclaw @sierraluvzz @min-aaa @now-that-we-dontalk @lillisummers @lovesanimals0000

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst #hp fandom #hp universe

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mydeerfellow · 4 months

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The Rubber Ball Of Uncontrollable Honesty

“I honestly wouldn’t fuck anyone in the room besides you! And maybe him!” Angel pointed at Husk, then Alastor.

“Really?” Both of them said at the same time, looking speculative and mortified in turn.

“And Vaggie but only if she had a strap—”

---

“Fuck you especially.”

The room was overwhelmingly, awkwardly silent as everyone collectively looked up from the bags of Lucifer’s old shit they’d come across in one of the storage rooms in the basement. Alastor was the last to look up, and seemed shocked that he had even said anything.

“Uh… thanks?” Angel blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility.

Alastor laughed nervously. “What? No! No, I just think you’re very strange and you make me incredibly uncomfortable! AHA! What the fuck?” He flailed and dropped the small rubber ball he had been messing with.

“Wow, that was… really, really honest, Alastor!” Charlie applauded awkwardly. “Um… I mean, maybe a little… abrupt…” She looked at Angel, who seemed torn between amusement and genuine surprise. “But! But, at least you were open, and… and you—”

“An’ he didn’t mean to say any of that shit. What the hell’s this thing, anyway?” Husk cut her off and stalked forward, eyeing the rubber ball on the floor. “You still feelin’ honest there, boss?” He looked at Alastor, who immediately pivoted to look away, but not before speaking: “Yooouuu— have enormous eyebrows!”

“You wanna fork it over now, or are we gonna wait for you to drop a bombshell?” Husk held out a hand, one brow raised, and for a moment it looked like Alastor might haul back and punch him. Then, he picked up the ball and put it squarely into Husk’s palm. “Ha ha! Now the curse is passed to you!”

“What kinda bullshit Curse Of The Mummy bullshit are you on right now? You can’t just pass it along to the next poor schmuck who tries to help! You know what? Fuck you. Figure it out your own fucking— ah well, shit.” Husk threw the ball at Angel, who caught it with a bit of a fumble.

“I honestly wouldn’t fuck anyone in the room besides you! And maybe him!” Angel pointed at Husk, then Alastor.

“Really?” Both of them said at the same time, looking speculative and mortified in turn.

“And Vaggie but only if she had a strap—”

“Gimme that, you dick.” Vaggie used a broom handle to knock the ball out of Angel’s hands and it rolled over to Niffty’s feet, who immediately held it above her head with a screech.

“Yes, dear?” Alastor patted her head as she wheezed excitedly.

“I would marry a bug if I could, just so I could stab him to death in his sleep and steal his money!”

The silence was overwhelming, and even Alastor looked somewhat put off by her… honesty. “Okay. That’s very disturbing and I think you could use some professional help.” He said at last. “Oh dear, it’s still working.”

“I got committment issues, so I’m never gonna actually fuck you.” Husk let Angel know, who nodded sagely. “That guy really fucked up my whole everything, honestly.” He pointed at Alastor, who raised his hands innocently.

“That’s okay, sex is more of a job anyway, let’s be real.”

“I wish I could stab a bad boy right now.” Niffty yelled.

“You know what, Niff? We’re gonna just… put a pin in that, okay?” Charlie laughed nervously and snatched the ball before anyone else could accidentally pick it up. “Sooo, anyway… I thought my mom got rid of this a long time ago. See, I had this kinda little lying issue when I was really little, so Dad made this!” She held it up and squinted at it. “It just makes you kinda wanna tell the truth. Or it used to, anyway. I think the spell got a little wonky, ‘cause I never… did what you guys are doing.” She looked over at Alastor and Husk, who were giving detailed descriptions of everything they didn’t like about each other while Angel offered background commentary on their personality flaws.

“If I had my time back I’d have drowned you in a washing machine when I had the chance!” Alastor said sweetly. “In fact, the only reason I don’t do that is because the dear, sweet child who runs this hotel would almost certainly be upset if I redecorated her foyer with—”

“That’s a fucking riot comin’ from a man who bends over backwards every time his floozy fuckin’ friend barks up your tree wantin’ a favor for dick-all!”

“At least I have a friend~”

“I got plenty of those, pal!”

Alastor pursed his lips, giving Angel a window of opportunity to jump in. “Aw, come on, maybe now’s not the time, huh? What’s the fun of a bitch fight when everybody’s gotta be stone-cold honest?” He held up his hands and smiled nervously, sidling between Alastor and Husk. “Nobody’s gonna come out on top, amirite? Come on, Charlie.” He waved at her behind his back and she jumped in valiantly.

“I think… we’re all probably going to say things we don’t really mean.”

“It’s a truth… ball… thing! Ain’t the point to be honest?” Husk spat, even as he backed off.

Charlie himmed and hawwed for a second. “Not really. Honesty’s kind of… hard. I don’t think it’s wrong to have a little bit of a… a… Vaggie, help. What am I saying?”

“Honesty’s got a lot of shades of gray. This shit just tries to make it black and white. I’m glad your Mom tossed it in here.” Vaggie covered Charlie’s hands, and the ball, with her own. “I think it’s probably better to just destroy it for good, though. Don’t you?”

The full body relaxation that Vaggie caused in Charlie was probably something that could be marketed and sold for a small fortune, just based on the broad smile on her face. Between their hands, the ball crumbled into dust.

“Well, I, for one, would fuck you any day of the week, and twice on Sunday!” Alastor exclaimed loudly, gesturing at Angel with both hands, who looked like he was seeing the sunrise for the first time. “Oh good, it worked!” He added after a pause, laughing uproariously at his own joke as he walked up the stairs. “I’ve got to go wash my brain with bleach, thank you all for this horrible experience!”

“What about once on Sunday?!” Angel yelled up after him, cackling when he was flipped off with both hands as the door slammed shut. “Ah, I’m wearing ‘em down. Just you wait.”

Husk shuddered and mock-gagged. “Maybe you should just stay down here an’ think about why you’re the way you are.” He patted Angel on the shoulder as he brushed past, following Alastor upstairs. “Niffty, don’t lick the dirt. You don’t know where’s it’s been.” He added, as Niffty was currently attempting to suction the truth ball dust off the unfinished floor.

“Cool, that’s my cue to skedaddle. C’mon, basket case, let’s go wash yer tongue before it falls off.” Angel picked up Niffty by the back of the shirt and tossed her up the stairs and into Husk’s arms like a football. “You two comin’ or what? Lezbehonest, this ain’t the most romantic setting, but you do you, babes.”

“Did you just— we’re holding hands, Angel!”

“Hey, whatever tickles yer pickle.” He swung the door shut behind him, and turned off the light for good measure, plunging them into darkness while they both yelled after him and scrambled blindly for the stairs.

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor #hazbin crack #This makes no sense #I'm just here for a good time #Hazbin Charlie #Hazbin Vaggie #Hazbin Niffty #Hazbin Husk #hazbin angel dust #huskerdust #chaggie

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darthstitch · 2 years

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every hundred years

Jessamy likes to follow along when the museum guides give their tours. It gives her something to do while Mummy's working with the paintings. At least, that was if Jessamy wasn't in school.

Her Mummy restores old paintings, brings them back like they were good as new. Most kids found that boring, but Jessamy didn't. She liked some of the stories Mummy would tell about those paintings. Of course, Jessamy couldn't be there the whole time, because it was fiddly, fussy work and Mummy needed to concentrate.

Today, Jessamy was trailing along a group that included a few kids close to her own age. They stopped in front of a painting that Jessamy recognized as one that her Mummy had recently restored.

"The Devil in the Tavern," the museum guide proclaimed with a dramatic flourish. "There's a rather spooky story attached to this, just in time for All Hallows' Eve. Don't worry, the painting itself isn't cursed, though. We keep those kinds of paintings decently covered up - we wouldn't want to lose our visitors now, wouldn't we?"

There was nervous laughter among the visitors and the children giggled.

"He doesn't look like the Devil," protested one very young little girl. "He looks like a prince in a fairy tale!"

"Yeah, he's supposed to have horns or scary burning eyes. That's what my nan says," said another little boy.

Jessamy had to agree. The "devil" looked rather handsome in his old-fashioned dark blue suit, with pale skin, bright blue eyes and long dark curly hair tumbling over his shoulders. There was a ruby set in the ruffles at his neck - Mummy called that a cravat, rather like an old-fashioned necktie.

"Well," said the museum guide, "if he had horns and scary eyes, he wouldn't be able to sit all nice and quiet in a tavern, aye? The story goes that the Devil and the Cursed Soldier would meet in a certain tavern, once every hundred years…"

Jessamy listened as the museum guide continued to spin their story about dreadful bargains made for immortality, a clever soldier who'd bested the Devil in a card game and won riches beyond imagination, and how every hundred years, the two of them would meet and plot and ensnare more unwary, greedy souls to drag off to Hell. The grown ups chuckled and Jessamy heard one scoff, "Stuff and nonsense!" But that was grown-ups for you. Some of them didn't like a good story, even if it was clearly all made up.

She lingered in front of the painting a while longer, even as the museum guide finished their tale and led the group to other paintings and things to see, moving on to different stories. There was something about this painting that was oddly familiar to her. Something about the look in the "devil's" eyes that seemed more sad to her, rather than sinister.

"That is not the Devil at all," said a deep, resonant voice just behind her. "And that soldier was never cursed."

Jessamy turned to see a tall, thin young man standing there. He was dressed entirely in black - black coat, black pants, black combat boots - which went perfectly well with his black hair and snow-white skin. He kind of looked like Wednesday Addams' older brother, which made her smile inwardly.

"Did the guide make it all up then?" Jessamy asked.

The man shook his head. "No, they told the story as they knew it. Stories tend to change as they're told over the years, but they will always go back to their original forms in time."

"So who was he really? What's the real story then?" Jessamy asked.

"He is the King of All Night's Dreaming," the man answered, a small smile playing about his lips. "He was rather proud, a little too full of himself at times. Since he knew the dreams and hopes of all humanity, he fancied that he knew all that he should of mortals. His sister, who was very wise and quite kind, decided to teach him otherwise."

"How? And who was his sister?"

"His sister was Death. And she pointed out the soldier to him, who was rather deep in his cups at the time. The man proclaimed to all and sundry that he had no plans of ever dying. She decided then and there, that she would grant him his wish. He would not die, unless he finally wanted it.

The Lord of Dreams believed that he would be begging for Death's gift in a century. And so they made a wager about it.

Still quite haughty, he swept up to the soldier and told him the news. And invited him to a meeting at that very same tavern, in a hundred years.

'Aye, stranger,' said the soldier quite cheerfully. 'I'll see you in a hundred years, then!"

Jessamy found herself spellbound by the man's voice and the way he told his tale. She hadn't realized that the two of them were now sitting on one of the benches in front of the portrait. There were other children now who were obviously listening as well and they'd settled down on the floor around them.

"So did they see each other in a hundred years?"

The man nodded.

"The Dream Lord expected, of course, for the man to beg him for death. For much had happened to him in the past century. He had fought in many battles, he had seen much of suffering and pain and many, many horrors."

The man paused and shook his head, looking rueful.

"But when the Dream Lord asked him to tell his story, the man told him about the wondrous invention of.... chimneys."

Jessamy and the other children giggled.

"And handkerchiefs."

More laughter.

The man shook his head at them mock-sternly. "He'd lived through a time when there were no such things and people would sicken and die from inhaling the smoke from a poorly ventilated hearth. To him, they were marvellous things.

When he spoke to the King of Dreams about his life, it was always the new things that he spoke of and there was such wonder and amazement in his tone, that he had lived to see such miracles and that he hoped he would live to see many more.

And so, when the Dream Lord asked if he still wished to live, he answered, 'Yes.'

Thus, the King of Dreams lost his wager with his sister. But he was, as I've said, very proud. And he was now quite intrigued with this fellow, with his talk of chimneys and handkerchiefs.

And so, they agreed to meet once more at that tavern, in another hundred years."

The man continued to weave the story of the King of Dreams and the immortal man, how they would meet at the tavern, to listen to the man tell him of the wonders he'd seen in the previous century. How he'd risen from his own humble origins as a peasant soldier to become rich and gain a title of his own, with a wife, a son and a baby on the way.

How, in the very next meeting, the Dream Lord would again meet the immortal man, but this time, he would see him poor and starving, having lost everything - his wealth, his wife and babe, and finally, his dear son.

Jessamy gulped. "Did he still want to live?"

"The Dream Lord felt quite sorrowful, when he'd beheld the man and heard his tale of woe. It had started out as a silly game between him and his sister, but this was now more than just a game to them both.

The Dream Lord also knew of loss and suffering and pain. There were times when he felt he would break under the weight of it. But he endured, for he had a duty to fulfill. There was no one else to carry the burden for him.

So he asked the man, with a heavy heart, if he had still wanted to live. Perhaps, he would offer this man a final dream to ease his way, a vision of the family he had lost, to comfort him.

The Dream Lord thought to himself that he would miss this man and his stories, but it was only to be expected. Humans could only endure so much pain. This was why his sister bestowed her gift to humanity. They were only too glad to see her, in the end.

But once more, the man surprised him.

"Are you mad?" the man told him. "Death's a mug's game. I've got so much more to live for."

So much hope still in him. How extraordinary."

"Did they meet again? The King of Dreams and the immortal man?" Jessamy asked.

"Did he get all better?" asked another little girl.

The man nodded.

He continued to tell them the story of the immortal's adventures. How he had done deeds both good and terrible. How he had learned from those dire mistakes, that had haunted his dreams and nightmares, which would have broken other men before him.

And yet, he had always looked forward, tried to do better and dreamed, always, to what new and wondrous thing the future would bring him. What stories he would tell the King of Dreams when they met again.

"All that, and still, the immortal did not truly know who the King of Dreams was."

Jessamy blinked. "Why? Weren't they friends already?"

The man laughed softly. "As I've said, the King of Dreams was a rather arrogant creature."

"He's very silly," Jessamy declared. "I'd rather like to be friends with someone who lives forever like that. And I'd see him more than just once in a hundred years."

"Then you are far wiser than the King of Dreams, little one. And a much better friend."

"Maybe the King of Dreams was afraid," Jessamy ventured. "I think he was lonely. He just didn't want to admit it."

"He was. Very lonely. And quite afraid. He had reason to be, for terrible things would happen to the people he loved. He did not want the same thing to happen to this man, his friend, who had become very dear to him. Dearest and best beloved."

"And how does the story end? Do they still meet in that tavern every hundred years?"

"How do you think the story ends, little Jessamy?"

Jessamy blinked. She wasn't sure if she'd told this man her name. But there was something in those extraordinary blue eyes, a look, that was warm and kind and knowing. Again, there was that nudge of familiarity to it, something that scratched at the edge of memory.

"You're the Storyteller," she told him archly. "You should know."

"Perhaps they still meet, even now, though the tavern is no longer there. They meet someplace new, a place that the immortal has built for his errant friend, a safe place where they can sit and drink and spend time together.

Perhaps, they meet a little more often than a hundred years, because the immortal man still has many stories to tell and the King of Dreams himself has learned his own lessons.

Perhaps, the immortal now knows his friend's name and asks the Dream Lord to tell his own story. As I tell it to you now."

The man smiled. And Jessamy finally tried not to think very hard about how the man looked exactly like that painting that was just in front of them.

"There you are, duck," said another man, walking up to them. He was only slightly shorter than the man in black, broad-shouldered, with warm brown eyes and the kindest smile. He paused in front of them, took in the scene of Jessamy and the children with amusement. "Telling stories again, are we? Do I know this one?"

"You know it quite well, dearest," the storyteller said, standing up to walk towards his companion. "I am rather fond of this particular tale after all."

"And how does this one end?"

"I think it ends happily ever after," Jessamy spoke up, looking at the two of them. She was suddenly very sure that she knew who they were. "That's how the best stories end."

"There you go, love, out of the mouths of babes," said the immortal man, who had been a peasant, a soldier, a lord, a beggar and many things more in all the centuries he'd lived. He leaned over to brush a kiss against the storyteller's pale cheek, smiled when the kiss was briefly returned, soft and sweet.

"As you say." The storyteller nodded regally at her. "Farewell, little Jessamy. Dream well."

Jessamy watched the King of All Night's Dreaming and his immortal walk away, hand in hand. She grinned. She was quite glad that her lord Morpheus had found happiness at long last.

-end-

*runs*

#the sandman #dreamling #dream/hob #dream x hob #dream of the endless #hob gadling #justice for jessamy #i crack what i want #shhh nobody tell neil

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pimosworld · 11 months

Text

The story of us chapter 3

Pairing -Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary-Set before the reader and the boys are officially together and how it all came to be.

CW-18+,MDNI,individual warnings for each chapter.Angst,fluff,comfort,mentions of ptsd,cursing,mlm, brief mention of homophobia,mentions of sex, canon events,we hate tom. Please let me know if I forgot any warnings.

WC-3.7k

Chapter Summary- The boys discuss your future and your past.

Not beta read

Notes-See Masterlist for full story notes

[Series Masterlist]

Chapter III The deal is off

——————————————

The further he gets from your house the more you feel the weight lifting off your shoulders. You glance up at Benny watching his eyes as he makes sure your boyfriend ex gets in his car and drives away. You don’t know if he even realizes he’s rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder to steadily ground himself.

“I hope you don’t mind if we stay?” He glances at you with those puppy dog eyes and you can’t resist.

“I would be upset if you wanted to leave.” You can feel him relax against you as he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Come on honey, let's go inside.” You’re too exhausted to notice him helping you through the most menial task of standing and walking inside your own house.

As you enter you see Frankie putting your table where it should be and Will surveying the hole in your wall and Santi…grabbing his keys? Of course he was leaving, all of this was too much. You couldn’t ask him to stay after dealing with your shitty ex. His eyes meet yours and you desperately try to wipe the tears welling in your eyes,putting on the best Im okay smile you can muster.

As if he can read your mind he strides over to you with confidence as he pulls you into a tight hug. You can smell his cologne on his neck as he cradles the back of your head with one hand and places a soft kiss on your temple.

“Cariño I’m not leaving, I just need to grab something from the truck.” You reluctantly let him go and have a seat on your couch.

The events of the last few hours seem like a blur. You have so many questions you need answers too but is now even the right time to ask? What are these feelings you have brewing for the men you’ve known your entire adult life? It has to be the vulnerable state you’re in causing these inappropriate thoughts. You had a boyfriend less than ten minutes ago. A poor excuse for one and frankly seemed like your only option.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Benny plops down next to you and grabs the remote. Frankie sits on the other side of you and pulls you against his broad chest relaxing against the arm rest. Okay so we’re not going to talk about it…that’s fine with me.

“I’m gonna come fix the hole on Friday, it’s my day off.” Will states as he makes his way to the kitchen to grab some beers from your fridge. You’ve missed the way they all fit into your life so easily. You’re trying your best to choke back the tears that have been threatening to spill since they arrived.

Santi toes the door open with his boot as his arms are full of grocery bags. “ I got all your favorites honey.” You can feel the lump tightening in your throat and your chest constricting-what is happening?

“Well I know what we’re watching.” Benny smiles at you as he selects the Mummy your favorite from the Netflix recently watched list.

You’re getting hot and they feel too close, it’s all too much. Not addressing the elephant in the room shouldn’t be this hard but it’s making your skin crawl.

Will comes over and hands Benny a beer as he gets comfortable on the loveseat. “I think Santi is making you something stronger.” He winks at you and you’re grateful you’re seated because you would have been in a puddle on the floor at that moment. Are they doing this on purpose?

Santi rounds the couch and sets his beer and your margarita on the coffee table.

“You’re in my seat.”

“Come on man there are no assigned seats.” Ben whines as he slumps down to the floor in front of you. Always doing as he’s told despite the protests.

You’re surely on the verge of a heart attack as the pain surges through your chest. The lump in your throat makes it hard to swallow and you don’t know how long you’ve been holding your breath.

Frankie senses too late what is happening as you stiffen against him, your shirt is clinging to you and your breaths have become ragged, you grip his thigh trying to ground yourself as the pressure consumes you.

“Honey?” You don’t hear him call you as he leans in, drowned out by your own thoughts of why you deserve this treatment. Too caught up in your self loathing to comprehend that they’re trying to pull you out.

Santi hands you a Reese's, your favorite candy. You stare with your palm open like it holds all of life’s answers. The damn breaks as you sob into Frankie’s chest. They’re all staring at you wide eyed and concerned as he consoles you.

“Shhh… I know it’s a lot. It’s gonna be ok hermosa.”

He knows all too well how it feels when you're drowning above water. No one can see the signs until it’s too late. The feeling like you’re suffocating but you have plenty of oxygen at your disposal. Every breath you take isn’t enough to stop the barrage of tears once they start.

“I told you to get sour patch kids.” Ben half whispers to Santi. Your crying turns to laughter and you’re sure they’re convinced you’ve lost your mind.

You take a few deep breaths into Frankie’s chest, inhaling his woodsy scent and faintly hearing his coaching your breathing. You can feel the steady rise and the fall of his chest.

“Thank you.” You say barely above a whisper.

Frankie squeezes your shoulder simultaneously with Santi squeezing your leg. A calm silence falls over the group as the tension recedes from your body.

“Sweetheart you don’t have to thank us, you’ve saved us more times than this.” Will…always the voice of reason. “This is our fault.” You open your mouth to protest but he raises a gentle hand.

“We’ve let you save us too many times, we’ve become so reliant on you that we failed to see when you needed us.”

You don’t really know what to say at this moment so you open your favorite candy and take a bite. It’s never tasted this good. You give Benny the other half as he half bites your finger causing you to giggle. You offer one to Frankie and he happily obliges.

“Mmm my guilty pleasure.” The double meaning is lost on you.

You offer one to Will and your fingers brush as he takes it from you. “Only because you offered.” Ever the gentleman.

“Before you even offer I’m not eating it.” Stubborn as a mule.

“Santiago…if you don’t take it I'm going to cry again.” Not your best tactic but it will surely work.

He groans in protest as he takes it from your hand.

“You have to eat it too.” Frankie barks out a laugh that makes you swell with pride.

“That’s my girl.” He whispers in your ear as he squeezes your waist. The barrage of emotions you’re feeling right now can only be described as delirium.

“As you wish for cariño.” Santi slowly puts the chocolate in his mouth, not breaking eye contact. The air in the room is leaving for completely different reasons. You are in trouble

Three margaritas deep and your sadness has quickly been replaced by your drunken state.

“Please just admit they’re all hot.”

“Honey, you say this every time we watch this.” Benny is resting his head on the cushion between you and Frankie.

You’re playing with his hair as he leans into your touch.

“Tell me…you don’t think they’re attractive?” The alcohol has you feeling a little bold and relaxed. Something you haven’t felt in weeks.

“Oh they’re definitely attractive…so how did you end up with Mike if you find them attractive?” Frankie slaps him in the back of his head as a hush falls over the room.

He’s right, how did you end up with him? You can’t even be mad at his question. You can however dish it back.

“I can’t date all of you and evidently you’re the most eligible bachelors in town…so the rest of us get Mike and people like him.”

You miss the knowing glances they all send each other as your head slumps back on Frankie’s shoulder.

You don’t know when you fell asleep or how you ended up tucked into your bed but a sudden panic falls over you at the thought of being alone. That is until you hear the low sounds of the tv still on in your living room and the not so quiet sound of Benny's voice. You can sleep peacefully knowing they would never leave.

****

“Will you lower your voice,you’re gonna wake her up.” Santi bristles at Benny as he emerges from your kitchen with more beers.

Benny has had his fair share of tequila and can’t possibly be in control of the octave in his voice.

“Listen…all I’m saying is we already spend every moment of our lives together,it wouldn’t be that big a deal.” He’s half whispering and shouting and his brother just rolls his eyes.

“No.” Santi deadpans just staring at the tv, anything to take his mind off the ridiculous proposal from Benny. He looks to Frankie for some help but he’s too preoccupied with the animated way Benny is flailing his arms as he talks and he knows he’s lost his comrade to the tequila as well. He’s seen that look in Frankie’s eyes so many times. The look he’s given him when he’s feeling flirtatious. The look you all give each other from time to time.

“I don’t recall you being the boss of me Santiago.” He says in a sing-song tone, Frankie can’t help the giggle that escapes him watching the antics unfold.

“You’re outnumbered anyway,Frankie was already planning on asking her out and I know my brother is in love with her.”

“Leave me out of this.” Will says half asleep from the loveseat.

“I would rather have her in my life and be alone than not have her in my life at all if me or any of you idiots broke her heart.”

A silence falls over the room as they all ponder what life would be like without you in it.

Surprisingly Frankie breaks the silence first before Benny can cause anymore annoyance to his half drunk and sleepy cohorts.

“We almost didn’t have her in our lives because of that asshole…so I’m willing to try and see where this goes.”

Santi huffs a laugh to himself as he runs his hands down his face. “And you’re both gonna be fine with whoever she chooses?” The question on everyone’s minds lingers in the air.

“I trust you guys more than anyone and I’d be happier if she was with one of us than some guy I know would break her heart.” Benny always wore his heart on his sleeve,never backing down to defend one of them or you.

“Fine…do what you want but when it all blows up in our faces just know I will never forgive you for ruining what he had.”

Benny leans back against Frankie on the couch, a triumphant grin on his face as he’s lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest. He is so content like this, dreaming of you and finally able to relax for the first time in weeks knowing you’re safe and he has everything he could ever ask for under one roof.

It’s settled then, the deal is off.

***

10 years ago

They’re all crowded into the mess hall after another boring day of cleaning and bitch work. The air is thick with tension since they haven’t been on assignment in weeks, not since Frankie’s near death injury. Frankie wasn’t thinking clearly when he was stabbed in the side, he hadn’t properly swept the room…preoccupied with his thoughts after hearing a gunshot close by and wondering if it was Santi or Benny injured. He doesn’t know when things started to shift for him but as the weeks went on he felt more than friendship for his comrades. It nearly got him killed.

Frankie’s never been that close to death and Santi has been distant since. The thought of losing him pushed feelings to the surface he’s never felt before. He didn’t know how to handle them, of course he loved his friends and would lay down his life for them but this was something else. He was never good at addressing his feelings and so he ran. He couldn’t physically go anywhere so into his mind he went.

It made everyone on edge, Frankie had a sadness in his eyes and Benny wanted to help him anyway he can but he pushed him away. They were all fracturing as though weeks prior they weren’t the closest they’ve ever been.

Will constantly snapped at his brother telling him to get his shit together, Tom snapped at all of them for being so caught up in anything besides their jobs. They were acting anything but the special ops soldiers that they were. Too many feelings were involved causing them to implode.

“Davis,Garcia,Morales,Millers…report to the briefing room nineteen hundred hours.” The sound of the lieutenant colonel causing a bush to fall over the room. He exits swiftly on his feet in his crisp army fatigues.

“Fuck.” Tom says not so quietly “I knew you guys were gonna fuck this up acting all weird.”

“Fuck you.” Frankie spits back at Tom as he stands with his tray to leave the hall. Santi and Benny can’t hide the grin spreading across their faces. It’s the most he’s said in weeks and they’ll cling to that small gesture if it’s all they can get.

Benny looks up at Will and sees the heartbreak in his eyes, he knows that being in delta is everything to him, he wishes he could take it as seriously as his brother does. He hopes things haven’t been ruined for all of them and he vows to try harder for him if they can get a second chance. He mouths a silent “I’m sorry.” To his brother which he returns with a smile and for the first time in weeks Ben feels like he can breathe a little.

They’re all silent as they make their way to the briefing room, the unanswered question looming among them. A million thoughts swimming in their head about their future. Would they be disciplined?demoted?discharged? None of it feels right to think about.

Of course they arrive 15 minutes early, all of them too nervous to wait any longer. As they approach the room a soft voice is heard through the door followed by laughter from the colonel. He’s laughing? They didn’t think the man was capable of anything but surly disposition. They exchange confused glances amongst each other as Tom opens the door first.

You’re leaning against the desk with your arms folded across your chest, the crinkle in your eyes and the small dimple in your cheeks is the least distracting thing about you as you laugh at something the colonel said. The standard issue army shirt and pants do nothing to hide your figure and it takes Frankie a moment to realize Tom is the only one seated at the desks.

You turn to face them as the four men are left gaping in the doorway like fools.

“Have a seat.” The colonel pulls them from their thoughts as you clear your throat and stand at attention in the front of the room. The smile has dropped from your face as you level them with your intense gaze. Intentionally making eye contact with each of them as they move to sit down.

Ben awkwardly crashes into Santi causing the desk to scratch against the floor and he hopes the floor would swallow him whole at this moment.

They’re the picture of imperfection and the farthest thing from highly trained soldiers, looking at the moment more like highschool teenagers. You drop your head to crack a smile but Will catches the way you clear your throat to disguise the laughter.

“Gentleman, this is your new combat medic, I wanted you all to meet and become acquainted before your new assignment next week.” The colonel says your name and Santi is repeating it in his head as many times as necessary so as not to forget, he wasn’t always good with names but he didn’t want to forget yours.

Frankie’s mind drifts elsewhere as relief floods him knowing they wouldn’t be disciplined for whatever he thought the military knew about his their situation. He feels a little bad that the previous medic had been discharged but it was her job to try and save their lives in the event something happened. He thought that day may have been his last as he watched her shakily stitch him up and eventually Will moved her out of the way and finished opting for his horrible stitch job and steady hands to hers.

“You can talk in here but be back to your quarters before curfew,understood.”

A resounding yes sir from the group and he’s exiting the room but not before he smiles at you.

Santi notices and thinks how wildly inappropriate it may have been or maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, but he can’t necessarily blame the colonel for shameless flirting. There was a draw about you that he couldn’t shake.

“I’m Sant-

“Im Fran-

They begin introductions at once and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you at their eagerness. Santi glares at his friend and Frankie raises his hand in mock surrender.

“I’m Santiago Garcia but you can call me pope.”

“I’m Will and that’s my brother Benny.”

“I’m Fraancisco Morales but you can call me Frankie.” He blushes slightly and you’re unsure why he would be embarrassed by his name.

As if on cue Benny clears his throat “You can call him Fish actually.” Frankie groans and raises his hand to shield his face from you.

“I’ll kill you” he mouths to Benny and any nerves you had for this introduction and joining this tight knit group are slowly dissipating.

You don’t have the heart to tell them the colonel has already told you as much as he could about each of them and of course that included their names. You knew as much about each of them as a small file could tell you except for the fact that they were distractingly handsome and beautiful.

It’s almost unreal that they all ended up together as if they were some inappropriate military calendar that you could buy at the cheap corner store. Even Tom who has yet to introduce himself had some appeal.

“So what are your qualifications?”

Maybe not

“You must be Tom.” He gapes at you unsure of how you knew his name, before he can open his mouth for a reply you raise your hand at him.

You walk the short distance to the desk he’s seated at as you place your hands on the front coming almost eye level with him.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t qualified and I certainly don’t need to list my years of experience or accolades to you. The colonel isn’t going to send me home because for some reason you might not like me or deem me to be unfit.”

It’s embarrassing and Frankie is grateful to whatever god above that your attention is honed in on Tom as he adjusts the growing bulge in his pants at your unwillingness to back down from a challenge.

“I’m only going to say this once, when you’re bleeding out from a stab wound or a gunshot, I’m the one you want by your side.” You lean away from the desk as Tom stands to tower over you. You still don’t shy away as he comes toe to toe with you. You could hear a pin drop as they all hold their breath awaiting his response.

“Honey listen, I’m only going to say this once. I’m the only one in this group that gives orders.” Tom smirks at the rage filling your eyes,hoping he can back you down and thinking he’s successful as you move to leave the room. You stop just short of the door as you turn on your heels.

“If you call me honey again it will be the last time you speak.” He laughs and some of the tension leaves the room as they all let out a breath.

“Sure thing honey bee but I don’t know what you think you’re gonna do.”

You open the door to leave, throwing a mischievous grin over your shoulder. “Bees do sting you know.”

It’s quiet for a moment after you leave, despite Tom's gruff introduction it seems you fit right in.

“We need some rules.” Tom says first and Will nods in agreement.

“Do not fuck her.”

“Jesus Tom who said anything about that.” Frankie should be ashamed for coming back at him so harshly, seeing as though he was having some trouble concealing that he wanted to do just that earlier.

“That was mostly directed at Pope, but after your little injury I figured we needed to lay down some ground rules.”

Santi hangs his head, he can’t protest not with the way his reputation was and the fact that he may have inadvertently played a role in Frankie being injured.

“He’s right,we need to tighten up and get our shit together. We can’t have this getting complicated with our lives on the line and I don’t want to lose another medic.” Will always the voice of reason.

“Okay but what about after?” Benny is half joking,half serious. Will slaps the back of his head as Frankie tries to conceal his laughter.

“No…I don’t care if it’s years down the line, we don’t need to complicate this anymore or ruin any friendships.” It’s the honesty in Santis voice that has Benny and Frankie sure that this is the way it has to be.

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