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bellewintersroe · 2 days ago

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i am my father's daughter - declan o'hara x rupert's daughter!reader

synopsis: you knew you shouldn't be doing this, flirting with your dad's friend and business partner. but he's so irresistible!

content: age gap relationship (ages not specified), maud doesn't exist au, not very canon compliant just ignore it, nsfw themes, dbf trope, accidental tense switching (ignore it)

author's note: declan is sooooo hunky #needthat also this is a rather short piece but if you'd like to see a continuation of dbf declan, i would absolutely provide <3

you're quite positive that nobody has looked as good in a t-shirt as declan o'hara does now in the front of the priory's living room, leading an open discussion about what is next for the budding production company. his biceps flex underneath the thin material when he lifts his arm in a gesture and despite your efforts to remain focused on the conversation at hand, it's difficult when all you've been able to think about since he moved in is declan.

for a month or two after he and his two daughters moved in, he had been the sole object of your daydreaming. he was so strong, so intelligent, so witty on the television, so...everything.

however, there was little that you could do on that front, considering the last name that appears on your birth certificate and the fact that rupert campbell-black, your father, and declan hated each other. it was a rather difficult watch, the night declan interviewed him, but with rupert bonding with declan over their love for their small families, it became much easier to slink your way into his presence. thankfully.

then, it became regular to see declan in your home, or to see you and rupert in his. he was hard to depart from, what with his deep, thick accented voice and his wavy hair he kept running his hands through, and that t-shirt, that damn t-shirt. you lived in pure, unending agony for a while, having to be so close to him all the time without being able to give in to this torturous desire.

but then he started blatantly running a large hand over your back as he passed behind you and then he started making eye contact with you across the room and then he helped you with car troubles where he stood tantalizingly close behind you while showing you how to check your oil.

your father doesn't need to know that you've kissed and made out with and sucked off his friend and business partner. right?

when declan finishes his speech in the front of the living room, he makes his way through the crowd to the table in the back with a few drinks and refreshments laid out by taggie where you just so happen to be standing.

his eye contact with you is unwavering as he comes closer and closer to you and there's a smirk growing on his lips.

"could you be any more obvious with your ogling there, dear?" he says quietly once he reaches your side.

you scoff, but you know what he's saying is true. "i wasn't doing anything of the sort, mr o'hara. i'm just admiring your leadership and passion for venturer, is all," you whisper.

he leans against the table, then, watching as the crowd before him mingle with each other, completely oblivious to the conversation happening between you and him. even your father seems to be swept up into conversation on the other side of the room. he turns his neck side-to-side, clearly aware of the way that his shoulders and back tense underneath the tight shirt. your eyes betray your previous statement as they immediately flick to the sight, then flick downwards.

he chuckles and takes the smallest of steps closer to you. "so you like the shirt, then, i take it?"

a small blush overtakes your cheeks and you refuse to meet his eye. suddenly, you feel his body tilt towards yours, lips just before your ear.

"i can let you take it off me if you come over tonight."

his deep voice reverberated through your body, sending chills down your neck and spine. subconsciously, your back arched from the table you were learning on and he let out another laugh.

a few hours later, you found yourself slipping quietly out of penscombe, positively giddy. the walk to the priory was one you had done plenty of times and you knew it like the back of your hand, really. slowly, the centuries old building came into view and several feet up the wall was a window with its lights still on. declan's.

as he'd done before, he met you at the back door of the home, one that leads into the kitchen, a smug look on his face.

"you took my offer quite readily," he said. his big frame leaned against the door and he crossed his arms. still adorning him was that damn t-shirt.

"as if you weren't kicking your feet waiting for me," you retort, then come to stand before him.

he shakes his head then and a sly smile tilts the corners of his mouth up. he removes his body from the frame and steps to the side to let you inside. as you pass him, a firm hand comes down on your ass, making a small yelp escape your lips.

you turn suddenly and shoot him a glare. he just pats you again, a gesture to keep you moving forward. "get on up there, little minx. before your daddy realizes where you've gone, huh?"

you turn then and head for the stairs that lead up to his bedroom. declan didn't have to tell you much twice.

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bellewintersroe · 10 days ago

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Howard ‘Hambone’ Hamilton x Reader

When you, a British Red Cross nurse is taken in as a prisoner of war by the Germans you’re made to work in their hospitals, often taking care of soldiers from the axis. Much to your surprise the odd trickle of allied troops come in, not for very long, but when you meet a certain American airforce man, you’re swept off your feet.

18+ content, mentions of injuries, death, war (obviously), ptsd, threats of violence- it’s a heavy angsty 2 part? series ok. Part 1.

October 31st 1943:

Hambone’s eyes softened as you walked into the room, closing the curtains behind you to create his own private space. “Hi.” You’d smile gently to which Hambone would sit up straighter. “Hi.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better if I didn’t eat that slime this morning.” Hambone muttered as you laughed softly, perching on the edge of his bed to feel his forehead with the back of your hand. “How’re you really feeling?”

“M’ okay, yeah.” The midwestern man responded as you made eye contact, sharing a sweet smile that made Hambone’s heart race. You truly were the only person he had whilst in this German hospital. With a broken shoulder, broken rib, punctured lung and torn up face you’d practically nursed him back to life over the past 3 weeks he’d spent here. A POW yourself, you understood the fear, the anxiety, the danger you were in. Hambone knew it was different for you, this hospital was your make shift home, it was either here or the dreaded camps. He couldn’t understand what was so bad about them, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to know. Being a British cross nurse you were captured by the Germans back in 1942, a whole year ago. There was no use leaving you to rot inside some dingy camp, so they set you to work, where you could be handy in their hospital 12 miles east of Berlin.

“M’ gonna listen to your breathing. You need any painkillers today?” You muttered, pulling the stethoscope up and into your head. “Nah.” Hambone tried to relax, but the feeling of your hand going up his shirt drove him wild. On no planet did he think he’d be in a German hospital with a pretty English nurse, falling head over heels for her.

“Okay.” You’d whisper sending shivers down his back. “I thought you’d never come back after last night, you were busy?” The American continued talking as you felt a soft smile come to your face. “I was just about run off my feet.” Your smile made Hambone want to try harder to see you grin even more.

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you for having a lie down in here.” Finally, you’d giggle at his words, a sense of accomplishment filling Hambone. “Quiet for now, let me listen to you. Take a deep breath for me.” He did as he was told as you shifted your hand from the back, to then up the front of his top.

“Sorry.” You’d smile a little nervously, your hands bumping into each other as Howard found himself watching you with heavy lids. You were so close, the closest he’d been to anybody in weeks. You were trying your best to listen as carefully as possible, but the quickening of his heart rate distracted you. It happened often, whenever you got close his heart would accelerate, even with some deep breaths, you could hear the sound of his nerves.

“Sounds like your lungs healing up fine. Just need to get the rest of you better now.” You pulled the equipment back down around your neck, resting a hand on the edge of the cot.

“And leave you alone in here?” He charmed, an even bigger smile breaking out. Just when the both of you were distracted, your minds blissfully in their own world, the curtains snapped back causing your back to straighten and you to nearly jump out of your skin.

You didn’t move from Hambones bedside when you saw the SS officer there. You were simply frozen in your tracks, fearful and silent, eyes wide and jaw clenched shut. Howard eyed you up as well as the Nazi ahead of him. He’d never seen an officer dressed like this before, most of the men in here were young soldiers or physicians. They were majority all fine- but this man didn’t seem it. He had a cold expression, eyes narrowed and thin lips pressed together creating a sealed line where they met. There wasn’t an inch of emotion on his face, and perhaps that was scaring you more than anything.

“Amerikanerin, yes?” The SS officers head moved with robotic jolts, moving side to side between yourself and Hambone. Unsure of whether to answer, the two of you remained staring, until Hambone eventually nodded. From his side, he glanced to see your fist bundling around the bedsheets, drawing white from the pressure as you squeezed.

The SS officer then rolled his eyes to land on you, scanning you up and down in a more than obvious manner. It was intimidating to say the least, he almost moved like a mechanical object, every movement seemed planned and rigid. Hambone felt a wave of disgust and protectiveness run through him, the feelings he’d harboured for you were nothing short than pure adoration. Seeing your neck tense and hand grip the sheets from nothing but sheer terror made Hambone fidget uncomfortably. He wanted to reach out, yell at this scum to leave you alone, but he couldn’t.

“This is the Red Cross nurse.”

“Das ist die KrJaenschwester des Roten Kreuzes.” The doctor spoke from the side of the SS officer, looking intimidated and feeble beside the armed man. Hambone, watched, concerned and confused by the German, you however had spent enough time in their company to understand he was introducing you to the SS officer.

Remaining quiet, your eyes fell to the floor, only gazing up to catch a slight smirk drawing across the officers face. “Nurse?” He questioned, stepping closer, making you subconsciously inch closer to Hambone in the bed.

“From England, Ja?” He questioned, looking down upon you. “Yes.”

“What is wrong with him?” Timidly, you turned back to Hambone, his eyes bearing into yours, harbouring the same surprise and fear that the officer spoke English well.

“He’s got a broken shoulder, and a broken rib that punctured his lung.” Hambone watched as you touched your left side, indicating the same place where he had been wounded. You’d glanced up to the SS officer who listened along, expression unreadable. His striking eyes landed on you once more, staring into your soul like he could suck the life out of you at any minute. Hambone watched back, gawking at the officer before him.

“A-and he had a laceration down his cheek into his neck. He lost alot of blood.” You inhaled deeply, pointing at the jagged scar that had been roughly stitched up by a different German doctor, one that hadn’t cared as much as you would’ve. Peering up at the officer once more, he pushed his jaw forwards, scanning over Hambone like he was food on his dinner plate.

“You kept this man alive?!” He then spoke out, expression changing completely as he scanned between the German doctor at the door and yourself. The tone change in his voice made your stomach completely drop, unable to answer to his strange question. Of course you ‘kept him alive’, but you feared responding that to an enemies officer wouldn’t be the smartest thing.

With the lack of response, the room fell silent and the officer grew agitated with what he perceived to be rudeness. Before anybody could object, he raised his hand and struck a smack directly across your cheek. Startled and struck, you stumbled back, crying out at the sudden physical contact, but the shock that overcame you numbed the pain. Hambone felt his eyes bulge out of his head, an anger like nothing else seethed through his body. Now Hambone was an intelligent man, but when his emotions overcame him, it got the better of him. Everything moved in slow motion in your mind, yet Hambones actions happened so fast.

He’d hauled himself up, body still weak and broke, but he snatched at the officers uniform, grappling at him with a tense jaw. “Hambone, stop!” Crying out, you grappled against the wall, an instant fear filling you as you scrambled to intercept. The officer didn’t hesitate to pull out his gun, yelling curses and spitting towards Hambone.

“Stop! Stop!” A horror upon seeing the man at the barrel of the Nazi’s gun had you jumping between. “You can’t touch him! He’s a prisoner of war under the Geneva conditions and will be treated that way!” Despite the shake in your voice your tone was firm yet desperate.

The gun was still pointed towards Hambone, the man’s face twitched, searing in anger, eyes squinted and hand shaking as you’d bravely wedged yourself between what was probably the most dangerous situation of your life. “Tell him!” You’d ordered, eyes wide and snapping towards the startled doctor at the door. Upon his silence, a frantic sensation hurried through you once more.

“Tell him!”

“Sir, der Mann ist in unserer Obsorge. Ich kann nicht zulassen, dass du die Verantwortung für seinen Tod übernimmst.” The German words seemed to register something in the man’s head. The officer turned back to you, glancing you up and down once more before he backed away, turning his back on you both and stuffing his gun into his pocket, leaving the room with a spit of a curse in German.

When the doctor behind shot you a look of pure horror, he snatched the curtains closed and Hambone let out a sigh of relief. “Are you-”

“Don’t ever do that again.” You snapped, turning around to the American who still looked shaken from the whole situation. Hambone barely had time to register his thoughts before you were telling him off.

“You want to get yourself killed?!” Breathless, you felt tears prick at your eyes, terrified and shaken up from the whole encounter. Hambone watched back to you with a saddened gaze, shaking his head. Letting out a sigh, you found yourself relieved to be staring back at the blonde man, angry or not, you couldn’t deny the relief that he’d made it out of that encounter alive.

The American then shifted slightly, wincing and letting out a slight groan of pain as he attempted to ease back down into the bed. “Hambone.” You then found yourself sorrowful, seeing him in pain and recognising the man was only trying to protect you from the violence you’d grown so accustomed to over the past year. A hand reached up, stroking his hair out of his face before easing him back down so he was propped up against the bed, breathing heavily from the pain that continued to rattle through his side.

“Are you okay?” You hushed once more, but he found himself reaching out for your face, ignoring the pain he found himself in. “Your face.” He responded, finally speaking. His finger touched at the small gash on your cheekbone that spilt drips of blood down your cheek. Upon seeing you wounded, Hambone’s stomach clenched and churned.

“I’m fine.” You hushed, hand resting on his shoulder. “Just please never do that again.” As a tear fell, you dropped yourself into hug him, in utter disbelief that he managed to walk out of such a risky encounter. “Please.” You’d hushed into the embrace, feeling him lift his wounded hand to hold you closer with both arms.

“I won’t.” Hambone hushed, nudging his face into your hair, eyes fluttering shut as he held your body close despite the throbbing pain in his rib. Slowly, your breathing settled in his arms and your trembling body eventually calmed. Sensing this, Hambone retrieved his head, only pulling back to take a better look at your face.

Overtaken by emotions and the sense of impending doom, he didn’t hesitate to push his lips onto yours. Hell, he half expected you to pull away in disgust, but when you sunk into the kiss, it was more than he ever bargained for. A hand tightened around the back of your head, fingers pressing into your scalp and between strands of your hair as you pulled off with a gasp.

“Don’t ever do that again.” You reminded once more, Hambone, was momentarily left a little stunned, thinking you were talking about the kiss, but with another firm kiss to his mouth, he could lax once more, relieved in the comfort he at least had you through all this.

#mota x reader #mota fanfic #hambone x reader #Howard ‘Hambone’ Hamilton x reader #hambone hamilton #Hambone Hamilton x reader #masters of the air x reader

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