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babygorewhore · 3 months ago

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•Be good for me•

Cooper Adams x fem reader!

Requested by @horrorpiggy I gave it my own spin so I really hope you enjoy!!!!

A harmless crush on single father Cooper Adams wasn’t in your plan. But after being invited to a concert one Saturday afternoon, everything changes.

Warnings! Age gap! Cooper is 45 and reader is 25! Depicting anxiety and panic attack! Blacking out! Daddy kink! Oral!Fem receiving! Finger sucking! Unprotected sex! Choking! Size kink! Praise! Light ish degrading but not really? Slight hint of his second life at one point. Multiple orgasms! Barely proofread!

Spending a Saturday with a recently widowed father and his teen daughter wasn’t exactly your typical weekend. But if you were being honest with yourself, you’d seize any opportunity to spend time with Cooper.

It was just a crush. One that started out because he saved you and your parent’s life from a fire last year. He had effortlessly pulled you over his shoulder and hauled you out of the burning apartment while you were half unconscious.

It was inconvenient in many ways. One, he was twenty years older than you. Two, he had two children and three his wife had been brutally murdered a few months ago by the infamous serial killer the Butcher.

He seemed devastated. Not just for his own loss but the children. After he saved you from the fire, time had passed and you became an occasional babysitter for his son.

Obviously with a crush growing, you loved the times you’d see him but it felt wrong. At his wife’s funeral, his children hugged you and thanked you for being there.

Lady Raven was a popular artist that was constantly playing at his house. Your knees pressed together as you sat in the back of the car, watching Riley and Cooper interact.

You looked away when you caught him look at you through the rearview mirror.

“I just want to say; thanks again for coming with us. I know you’re busy with classes and your part time job. But it means a lot to us.” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine but you gave him a smile.

“Oh! No problem. Thank you for even inviting me.” You blushed as his dark eyes scanned over you as you all fell into silence while he parked.

It was a little difficult to keep up with him as you three jogged to the stadium and maneuvered around the growing crowd of people. It made you feel nervous to be in such tight spaces with others.

As time went by, you noticed Cooper growing more agitated and tense but he was trying to force positivity for Riley. Your heart started to accelerate as the music echoed. You cleared your throat as heat warmed you. The black shirt was extra long, reaching your knees covering your shorts.

Your vans squeaked as the light shifted to red and the cheering young girls screamed. The sounds throbbed in your ear as you rapidly blinked.

“Are you okay?” You gasped at the close proximity of Cooper. He was bending down closer to you with a concerned look on his handsome face.

“Yeah! I’m just a little nervous around crowds.” You force yourself to laugh but he doesn’t return the expression.

“You look like you’re about to collapse. Maybe we should find somewhere more relaxed.” You look at Riley, who was losing her mind and jumping around. You shook your head, feeling guilty.

“I couldn’t pull you away. She’s having so much fun.”

Cooper remained silent and you faced the stage again. Your body grew more tense as the minutes passed and your hands were shaking. Your mouth went dry as a few shoulders bumped into you as a guest artist walked through the aisle.

You tried to remain calm but the staff came and told you three that Riley would be the dream girl. She would be going on stage. You would have to go in front of everyone.

Your legs trembled as you followed them closely. The eyes on you made you feel even worse. The bright lights, your clothes suddenly felt too tight as you walked up the stairs. It took all your strength to remain standing as Riley finished the section of the concert with Lady Raven.

You jolted as a large hand came and settled across your forehead. Cooper’s head was tilted and he narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re burning up but you’re shivering. I think we need to find a place for you to sit down.”

Riley was walking towards you both when your eyesight finally faded.

You were pulled off your feet. You could feel what was going on but you weren’t able to open your eyes yet. Cooper was carrying you, his muscular arms encasing you against his chest. You came to as he sat you down in a chair. A few medical members were gawking at him as he knelt down, holding a compress to your face.

“You blacked out. You were having a panic attack and you were about to fall. Just stay still, okay?”

You don’t have the energy to speak yet but Cooper moves a stray hair out of your face and leans in closer. “You need something with calories. You haven’t eaten all day, I bet.” He gives you a knowing look.

“Is she your girlfriend?” One of the nurses ask and you feel sobered immediately. But to your surprise, Cooper doesn’t say no to her.

Instead he stands up, swiftly returning with a small box of juice.

He presses the straw to your lips and encourages you to take a sip. “Atta girl, good job. You’ll be feeling better in a few minutes. Glad I kept an eye on you, sugar.” The term made your pulse quicken.

“Is there any way we can get out of here quickly? I don’t think she needs a hospital but I do want to take her home.” Cooper asks the nurses and you faintly hear them tell him a way out peacefully.

“I don’t want to be a problem.” You whisper and Cooper clicks his tongue.

“Isn’t she the sweetest? Doesn’t want to cause trouble.” Cooper reaches down and sets a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m okay, I can stand now.” You insist but he cups your waist. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you feel his sweater pressed against you, his lips lingering next to your ear.

“Always so insistent. But you’re gonna let daddy help you. Aren’t you, little one?”

You could have melted right then and there. You almost sure you were fucking dreaming but the dangerous look in his eye was all too real. His graveled voice was alluring and made your core tighten.

You were speechless as he walked next to you still holding your torso. It was surreal.

“Why are there so many police officers?” Riley asked and Cooper shrugged.

“Nothing to worry about. We’re getting out of here. Can’t have another blackout, can we?”

“Please, I really don’t want to intrude further.” You pleaded as Cooper ushered you into the house.

“Shh, none of that. I insist. I’m not going to take a chance that you fall alone in your apartment. You’re going to stay here tonight. Besides, the kids love having you here.” He seemed electrified as he pressed his palm to your back.

“You’re going to eat something and then rest. It’s the least I can do since you help me all the time.”

You didn’t bring up the comment he made earlier but you did notice the way he had a hint of a smirk the entire evening. He seemed off on the ride home. The way he gripped the steering wheel made his arm quiver.

Cooper never showed a hint of anger. He was always patient. Sometimes silly with the kids but today there was something different.

Your body was covered by a blanket on the couch a few hours later. Riley and her brother were upstairs in bed. Cooper had disappeared a few minutes ago, promising to come back soon.

Unable to stay still anymore, you made your way to the spare bedroom and groaned. You didn’t have any clothes to sleep in and you rubbed your face with your hands.

“You always do that when you’re frustrated.” You shrieked and spun around.

Cooper stood in the doorway. His shoulders were tense, fingers curled into his fists and he closed the door behind him. His hair was smoothed back.

“You scared the fuck out of me.” You breathed.

“There’s not much I can do about that habit I’m afraid. Being able to walk quietly took some practice. How are you feeling?” He leaned against the wall and your gaze flickered over his face.

“I’m okay. I just want to apologize. I’m sorry if I made the concert stressful. Sometimes my anxiety gets out of control. I should have just found a way home. I didn’t mean to cause any extra stress-“ You rambled on and Cooper's lips quirked into a smile.

“You have nothing to apologize for. In fact, it worked out in a way. We didn’t have to go through the police. All thanks to you.” He took a step forward and your stare widened.

“Cooper. Are you alright?”

His movements continued until his shoes were against your bare feet. “I’ve never been better, sweetheart. I just want to ask you to do something to me.” He rolled his neck before his hands settled on your shoulders.

“I want you to be a good girl tonight. Can you be a good girl for me, little one? You're gonna let me take care of you?”

Your mouth parted and he took the opportunity to swipe his thumb across your lower lip.

“Don’t act surprised. I see the way you look at me. And I really would appreciate it if you didn’t lie about it, baby doll.” You gasped and he gently touched your tongue. Sticking his thumb further in your mouth.

Your lips gently wrapped around and sucked. His eyes fluttered and he removed his hand. Cooper took the opportunity to grab the back of your head, pulling you up and he crushed his lips to yours.

He tasted sweet as his tongue darted in and swept over your teeth. It wasn’t too much. His experience obvious by the age gap as he backed you against the bed. Coopers strength was surprising as he easily pressed you down on the mattress. He nibbled your lip before pulling away and peppered kisses along your jaw. Your legs looped around his waist and your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders.

“You gonna let me eat that pretty pussy?” He questioned against your skin and you whined. Cooper trailed his lips down your chest, stomach and finally his thick fingers pulled down your shorts. He sucked in a sharp breath as he admired your underwear.

“Anyone ever done this to you?” He toyed with the waistband and you cleared your throat.

“Not-not really. They didn’t put any effort.” You stuttered.

Cooper peeled off your panties, exposing your pulsing cunt and he didn’t waste any further time. He shoved his face against your pussy, making you throw your head back. His tongue kitten licked your clit and then flattened. He slowly dragged it down and shoved it inside you. The feeling was overwhelming as you turned your head to the side, trying to suppress loud noises that were desperate to escape you.

“This is what you get for being a good girl,” Cooper praised, his hands holding your thighs apart as he spit on your cunt. He sucked your center into his mouth, your hips rolling as he moaned against you.

“You taste so good. Can’t get enough. I’m gonna make you cum on my face.”

He applied more pressure and enthusiastically licked your wetness. His nose was firm against your pussy and your nipples were so hard they hurt.

“Daddy I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” You managed and the uncoiling of your stomach sent a shock through your body. Your fingers sank into his hair, humping his jaw as Cooper continued to suck your clit.

It was overwhelming and he added to it by adding two fingers. He curled them deep and tears clouded your vision.

“Daddy-please-“ You whispered and he snarled. His enormous hands and brute strength aided his ability to effortlessly flip you over on your stomach.

Cooper pulled you to your knees, pushing your chest down so your ass was sticking in the air. He gave it a harsh slap and you heard his belt unbuckle. Your cunt was aching and cum smeared on your inner thighs. You felt the leather of the belt wrap around your throat but panic didn’t set in. It wasn’t tight enough to cause too much pain but it was pressure to keep you still.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you like this? Leashed like a god damn puppy? So eager to please me? I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t even see straight. You’re gonna be stuffed full of cum.” His filthy words made you groan.

Cooper ran the tip of his dick along your slit, his precum coating your clit. He pushed it into you and he held you up by the belt. Your body jerked as he thrusted his hips. You felt like splitting in the middle but all discomfort vanished as he toyed with your bud.

“I like seeing you fucking helpless. That’s my good girl. Taking my cock so well. Squeezing me so hard. Don’t worry, daddy’s not gonna pull out.” You rocked back into him in a harsh rhythm. He pounded into you almost anomalistically. His huge body caged you in and Cooper choking you only added to the pleasure.

“Cream on it. Fucking cream on my dick. I know you can.” He commanded and you cried as another orgasm neared.

“Tell me who’s in control, doll.” He ordered and you repeated the worse hoarsely.

Your second climax came and hit you like a storm. Cooper huffed and grunted as his cock twitched inside you and ropes of his cum sprayed your insides. It gave him more slip to fuck you through it.

He hauled you on his lap, letting go of the belt and he turned you to face him. Your thighs on either side as he set you on his dick. Cooper's eyes were black with lust as he palmed your tits.

“So greedy, keeping this pussy from me? You just fucking wait till I stop going easy on you. I have so much-so much I need to take out on you.” Your head lulled back as you bounced on his shaft.

Your hands balanced on his chest and your mouth hovered above his. “You feel so good,” You admitted and Cooper smiled hazily. His hands traveled and cupped the back of your ass. It would have normally embarrassed you that you weren’t able to last longer but it only a few minutes passed before another orgasm sent you over the edge.

“You look so god damn pretty. Even prettier than if you were-“ He jerked his jaw as you gently cupped his face. Cooper must have been surprised by your gentle display because he pressed a swift kiss to your palm.

“My sweet girl. Doing such a good job. I’m so proud of you for taking it,”

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thebadboyfanclub · 2 years ago

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You Bled For Them, You Decide Pt.2 (Daemon x Reader)

So a lot of people requested a part two of this and had some requests on what should it be about, the stakes were high so I hope I did not disappoint you. Enjoy!

Part one

(Y/n) was not a fool, she was sure that the second she steps foot in Targaryen ground all eyes would be on her, the mystery woman that managed to tame the rogue prince. She despised that nickname, (y/n)s opinion was that her dear husband had simply leaned towards violence to make up for the pain he had felt, Daemon was a passionate man which meant he loved as deeply as he hated, she knew Daemon would burn the seven kingdoms to ensure that their family is safe, he was a man of honour.

“Do you truly believe a character like prince Daemon has settled?”

“It certainly looks like it, he hasn’t stepped away from her and the children for longer than a minute”

“The children… well at least with this union no one can question their true parentage”

Otto whispered the last part only for his daughter queen Alicent to hear. Everyone was at awe how none of the kids had inherited their mothers features except small details,(y/n) adored the fact that they looked like the father, she was unaware what a big role on their safety that played.

“I believe we must introduce ourselves, would be interesting”

Alicent suggested while her father hummed in agreement, in almost complete unison they began to walk towards the couple that was pre occupied with the king.

“Alicent and Otto, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Daemon questioned ironically, (y/n)s eyebrow was raised in confusion as she looked up at him for clues about the sudden change on his demeanour.

“Prince Daemon, it’s been so long since we last saw you, you were newly widowed at the time”

“Widowed?”

(Y/n) never pressured Daemon to speak of his past, he revealed what he wished while he laid on her chest and let her to brush his silver hair with her fingers. Daemons eyes squinted at the smart remark Lord Otto had thrown at him, he was looking for a way to cause a problems in his marriage.

“Your lady wife seems oblivious to the fact that you were wed prior”

Alicent noticed, (y/n) tried to keep her composure and patiently wait until they are alone to question her husband. Daemon was ready for war, they were pushing the boundaries in order to get what they want, to destroy what he worked so hard for and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

“I was forced into a marriage for alliance that is correct, (y/n) is my first true match, I thank the Gods for sending her to me every morrow”

Daemon was being genuine, his lady wife had been a miracle, the Gods took pity on him and showed him what it is like to have a reason to come back from battle alive. Daemon took his (y/n)s hand in his to place a kiss on her knuckles, (y/n) smiled even though her mind had stored the new information for another time, it wouldn’t be wise to pick a fight while attending a funeral.

“Such tender words, I am glad you have left your infatuation with princess Rhaenyra behind you”

The sentence that was spoken from the Queens lips made (y/n)s blood ran cold, the woman that she had just been introduced to had an affair with Daemon? It could not be, she was a married woman, the daughter of his own brother, “no that wouldn’t stop him, he is a Targaryen” she thought as her hands started to shake from anger. Thankfully her eldest daughter cut the conversation short before push came to shove and (y/n) showed her temper, the girl was panting while her cheeks were severely blushed from running around, she hadn’t been this blissful in weeks.

“Mother, can me and Aemond go play in the shore?”

“Aemond?!”

Daemon exclaimed, earning a side eye from everyone, if he had it his way his children would never play along side Alicents children, maybe little Heleana would be an exception but that would be it, especially when it came to his precious daughters he hated when they would be boys around them, even worst if they were hightowers.

(Y/n) did not spare a look at her lord husband, she simply tucked away a few strands of hair that seemed to stick on the young girls sweaty forehead and smiled lovingly, Alyssa was in much need of a companion, she loved her siblings but she would always have to take care of them.

“Of course my little deer, better yet I’ll come with you. I would love to meet your new friend Aemond”

(Y/n) had managed to discreetly slip away from everyone, she found joy at watching her daughter play carelessly with her new friend, the timid Aemond that barely raised his gaze to (y/n) when introduced, still he ran with Alyssa around the shore as they had both taken their shoes off and splashed in the water.

(y/n) could stay like this together, away from everyone with her family while they enjoyed the simple things life had to offer, it’s what her and Daemon had in common, although she could identify that Daemon had missed his brother, perhaps he missed princess Rhaenyra as well.

“Come along sweetlings, it’s getting dark”

“Mother please just a few more minutes”

“Fine, I will make sure your siblings are sleeping and then I will come back to escort you”

“Thank you lady (y/n)”

Aemond replied with the utmost respect. (Y/n) simply smiled as she turned her back on the children, with the assistance of a kind knight she was guided to the room (y/n), Daemon and little Johanna would occupy for the night, she had already peeked inside the other rooms for her children to find the sleeping peacefully.

To her misfortune she never had great memory when it came to directions, getting lost by turning left instead of right or was it right instead of left? She cursed under her breath for not looking around for clues when she had the chance.

“I need you uncle, I cannot fight them alone”

“You know I would support you if war occurred Rhaenyra”

The voices that reached her ears made her come to a halt, her back found the cold wall to rest so she can listen to her husbands conversation with the princess, she had put on such a brave fight to forget what was said about their affair before (y/n) came to his life, excusing it as a spur of a moment and feelings long forgotten, now there she was hiding in the dark to catch them whispering.

“I do not need you as a soldier Daemon, i want us to bind our blood”

“Rhaenyra”

“Do you love her?”

Tears welled up in (y/n)s eyes, this could not be. He brought to his homeland just to embarrass her? To parade his children and leave (y/n) in the dust? Did she marry such a cruel man? She felt like her heart was going to come out her throat at the sound of those words.

“More than life itself”

“So my love for you meant nothing?”

“You were a child Rhaenyra, we both made mistakes”

“You did not love me?”

“Of course I did”

“My love?”

(Y/n) came out of her hiding spot, she wasn’t going to let the princess sway her husbands words, Daemon had declared his love and the princess did not want to give up, she was toying with (y/n)s wedlock like the life of her and her children including the pain this will cause meant nothing.

Daemon focused on his wife, smiling at the sight of her, Rhaenyra turned to face her as well, Daemon could see that (y/n) heard everything, he identified the fire of fury in her eyes, she appeared with reason.

“Where are the children my dear?”

“Alyssa is playing with Aemond, I will go to collect them now but I have seem to get lost within the castle”

“I shall escort you then, excuse me princess Rhaenyra”

Daemon took (y/n)s hand in his as they left Rhaenyra in shambles, he left her for (y/n), his morals did not buckle at the slightest, not even for Rhaenyra.

As they turned the corner (y/n) took off her polite mask, her hand gripped on to his as she held him back from walking even further, Daemon felt his heart skip a beat at the fact that (y/n) was clearly upset. He did not prepare her correctly for this visit, he should have known that the greens would try to tear them apart.

“A wife? An affair? With your own niece at that”

“All before I met you my love”

“That’s not my point, I looked like a fool in front of everyone. Here I am, your wife that did knew nothing of these acts of yours, we are a union and we appeared weak against the hawks eye”

Daemon had guessed she would be frustrated about the acts, he couldn’t be more wrong. (Y/n) had heard of tales about her husband, his thirst over women, she only cared about how she appeared like their union was fickle, that they were secrets between them.

Daemon let out a breath before he took (y/n) for a hug, she did not respond immediately but gave in to wrapping her arms around him after a moment.

“I apologise my love, I will fix it”

“You better or you will have to start looking for a third wife”

Haste heavy steps pulled them apart from one another, curiosity taking over them as they waited for the person to appear. A knight stood before them, clearly stressed, (y/n)s heart clenched tight.

“The kids”

“Your children are alright however you must follow me”

The couple ran to wherever the knight guided them, (y/n) was the first to burst in the room, Alyssa stood next to her friend Aemond who was getting stitched up in the eye. (Y/n) skipped over to her and instantly started looking for wounds, Daemon took in the room as everyone gathered, Baela and Rhaena crying in their grandmothers arms and Lucerys had a nose bleed as he was also crying.

“I am unharmed mother”

“What happened? I told you to be careful with Aemond”

“It wasn’t my fault, Aemond claimed a dragon so we went for a flight when we got ambushed by the others that claimed Vhagar was meant for Rhaena and I… mother I swear I tried to defend Aemond, it was four against two”

“It’s alright my dear, you did your best”

Alyssa spoke honestly, Jacaerys had restrained her when the others attacked Aemond, everything happened so fast she did not have time to process what to do, she did everything she could to defend Aemond, now he had lost his eye.

(Y/n) hugged her daughter tightly, thanking the Gods for sparing her daughter from harm. Everyone was occupied with blaming one another to notice (y/n) wince from pain, her labour had started, she had been through this multiple times she had knowledge of the pains starting early, it was not the time to focus on that as of yet.

“It was my sons that were attacked and forced to defend themselves, vile accusations were spoke from prince Aemond”

“No he did not”

“Alyssa”

“No mother they attacked him”

“He held a rock”

“After you started beating him and then you took a knife out you meant to kill him”

Alyssa was furious, she had seen everything and was appalled by such hostile behaviour especially within family members. Alyssa had grown into an environment that love and respect was shown to everyone, to be met with such hatred was a new found grown for the young girl, Daemon smirked at her daughter fighting against princess Rhaenyra and cutting her off before she could finish, Alyssa had a backbone stronger than any child her age.

“My king this is the highest of treachery and since the girl wants to take prince Aemonds side I ask both of them to be questioned for their treason”

“my child nor any will be questioned like they are criminals, I would have hoped for a woman of such high rank to have some respect for a child that has been permanently scarred from your own kin”

“Are you accusing me of something lady (y/n)?”

“I am defending what’s right which is what my daughter did as well, you are protecting your own and so will I”

“Enough!”

The king intervened. Daemon tried to bring (y/n) back from her anger by placing a hand on her shoulder, truly he did not want to do it still he worried over how heavily pregnant wife, she should not feel any type of uneasiness at such delicate state.

He was certain (y/n) could stand her ground and defend their family better than anyone, a side of him relished it when (y/n) pushed back at others and protected their children, her fire and quick tongue was his favourite things about her.

“Lady (y/n) is right, princess Alyssa has done nothing wrong”

“She stood against the heir”

“She defended her friend, titles don’t mean shit to our family pri- ow”

She could not hold back any longer, she felt liquid ran against her leg as the pain similar to knife cutting her belly made her lose her cool. Daemon was quick on his feet as (y/n) put her hands on her knees to hold herself up against the pain, daemon wrapped his hands around his wife to help her up, worry written all over his face.

“What is it my love?”

“My labours started”

“Maester-“

“No maesters, take me to my room now”

She interrupted the queen, everyone stood still not knowing what to do next. Alyssa stood next to her mother so she can rub her belly to soothe the pain, she had been present at the birth of her siblings for as long as she remembered, it was almost muscle memory now.

“Lady (y/n) I promise you i am very experienced with delivering babes for the royal-”

“Oh Fuck off will you? I said no fucking maesters, Daemon please hurry or I will push this babe out for your entire family to see”

“As you wish my love”

In one swift motion Daemon swooped (y/n) from her feet to rush her to the privacy of their own room, Alyssa followed quickly with queen Alicent, the Maester and princess Rhaenyra hot on their trail, as they were all amazed by (y/n)s resilience they wanted to witness the woman giving birth on her own, as (y/n) breathed heavy she leaned her head on her husbands shoulder.

“This is going to be a quick one”

(Y/n) could time her pains growing stronger at such short period of time, her babe was rushing to come out to the point (y/n) did not think she would make it to her room.

Fortunately she was wrong, as Daemon kicked the door open to quickly lay (y/n) in the bed Alyssa sat behind her mother to help her sit up while the mothers back laid against her daughters chest. Alyssa admired her mothers strength more than anything, she viewed (y/n) as the strongest person alive and loved that she was allowed to be included to the birth of her siblings, secretly scheming to follow the tradition of a private birth.

“Everyone out”

“The maester should stay in case of any assistance-“

“Daemon I can feel the head”

(Y/n) screamed from the pain, roaring her babe out that did not wait for anyone or anything. The family quickly forgot the presence of outsiders as they supported (y/n) for her birth, (y/n) held her daughter with one hand as Daemon lifted his wives dress to help her with any way he can.

“Almost there (y/n), give it one strong push and you will hold our babe in your arms”

He encouraged her while Alyssa stroked her mothers hair with her free hand. The trio that stood a few meters away were like statues, the queen was deeply moved by the love that lingered in the room and Alicent clenched the charm of the seven that hang from her neck, her children’s birth so strongly connected with the people in the room, the family had a bond that was rare in this world.

Soon enough cries of the babe echoed in the room as everyone in unison let out a breath of relief, (y/n)s lips curved to a triumph smiled as she saw her babe for the first time, Alyssa kissed her mothers forehead as encouragement for a job well done, amazed at the view of another sibling brought to life.

“Praise the mother”

Alicent spoke as she was the first to approach (y/n) who stretched her arms to hold the baby, tears appeared on everyone’s cheeks except the maesters and the only thing you could hear was the cries of a newborn babe, what a magical sound that was to a mothers ears.

“A princess is born to driftmark, Maester let everyone know (y/n) delivered her babe”

Rhaenyra instructed, she internally admitted defeat since there was nothing she could do anymore, watching Daemon so involved in the birth and cry tears of joy as he held the bloody babe in his arms was enough proof of there romance having no chance of reconciliation. Daemon sat next to (y/n)s bed as he observed his wife holding their babe in her arms and their eldest holding her mother in her arms with her eyes full of love.

“Well done my moon, what a gift you blessed me with, another beautiful and heathy daughter”

“Welcome to our family Maegora”

(Y/n) whispered as she held her baby, Alyssa gasped at the choice of the name, Alyssa had suggested it a while back and her father had laughed at the choice and the fear it would install to everyone’s hearts.

Daemon was actually fond of the name, still he had a habit of teasing his children so he just leaned to kiss (y/n)s lips, she was so beautiful after she delivered their children, a glow unlike any other as the light of candles was the only source of light, his devotion to her was as deep as any religious person, his heart only beat because hers did.

“You are radiating my love”

Requests are open!

@slutmeoutsworld @ayamenimthiriel @the-phantom-of-arda @babystudentroadthing @pearlstiare @bxdbxtxh15 @lazypinkpig

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slavicdelight · 11 months ago

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EPHEMERAL

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Targ!Royce!f!reader

Summary: Your father, Prince Daemon Targaryen never ackowledged you. Your mother, Lady Rhea Royce passed away when you were little, which leaves you to be raised by your uncle - King Viserys Targaryen, and his wife - Queen Alicent Hightower. As you grow up in the Red Keep, you grew close to the kings second son - Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Warnings: cursing, violence, canon divergence

A/N: part two is here HIRAETH

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Being the daughter of the infamous Rouge Prince was not easy, especially when your mother was a woman he despised up until her death or after that. You were not even supposed to exist, as your parents held such resentment towards each other, that their union was not consummated for a very long time, before one fateful night, when Prince Daemon was exiled from King’s Landing yet again by his brother, King Viserys. Your maid mentioned to you that your father was extremely enraged and got drunk inside the walls of Runestone. Your lady mother was also having an exceptionally bad day, and so she joined her husband in consuming a ridiculous amount of wine. One thing led to another, therefore you were conceived, and the Targaryen man fled the very next day.

You were born the same year as the eldest son of King Viserys and Queen Alicent, growing up in the Vale with only your mother there, as your father, upon hearing the news of your birth did not even acknowledge you as his child and flew away to fight in the Stepstones. He could call you a bastard of his “Bronze Bitch” all he wanted, but even though you had brown hair, no one could deny the fact that you have the blood of the dragons flowing through your veins, for your eyes were the gorgeous shade of violet. Runestone was your home. You loved running in its halls, playing with various servants and guards, but your most favourite part was learning everything you could from your mother. Sadly your childhood joy did not last long. When you were two name days old Lady Rhea passed away in what was called a hunting accident. People of the Vale did not believe that story and were spreading rumours that it was her husband, who murdered her in cold blood.

Queen Alicent, after learning about your misfortune, convinced her husband to bring you to the Red Keep to be raised among your cousins. She mentioned a well-known saying going around the Targaryen family: “A dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing”. And so, as a result, you were brought to Kings Landing and raised along with the queen’s and Princess Rhaenyra’s children. You got on with Helaena and Aemond pretty well. The princess was your closest friend, you spent most of the time together, because you were the only two girls among the royal family residing in the castle. You did not mind her riddles nor her fondness for small creatures, quite the opposite, you found it fascinating how smart Helaena is. Aemond was a slightly different story. You remember being drawn to him, something inside you did not let you pull away from the prince. For him you were his light in life, the only person he did not mind the company of. You both were polar opposites. You being very kind, talkative and a ray of sunshine, him being closed off and quiet. You disliked Aegon, even though you were the closest in age, because of his vile language and inappropriate behavior. He was also a bully and liked to tease you and Aemond for not having dragons, dragging the sons of Princess Rhaenyra into it as well. When it comes to Jace and Luke, you found them pleasant to be around when they’re not doing Aegon’s bidding. Your life in the Red Keep was going well and you thrived in this environment, but what you did not know, is that it would all soon come to an end.

time skip to the funeral of Laena Velaryon

After Prince Daemon won the war in the Stepstones, he came back to his brothers’ side once again, but it did not last long, as he left following the wedding of Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor. During his presence in the castle, he was set on ignoring your existence, and you only saw him once, when he strolled through the gardens, where you were sitting with Helaena. He wed the lady Laena Velaryon soon after and left for Pentos abandoning you again. Now, you are all standing on Driftmark, attending the said lady’s funeral. Once again your father has paid you no attention and you decided not to let it bother you. After the coffin was laid down into the sea everyone started conversing amongst each other. You decided to stay close to Aemond, due to not feeling confident and you knew that he was the only person who could bring you comfort. As you headed to where the green siblings stood, you heard Aegon talking.

“We have nothing in common.” he said, clearly talking about Helaena, who sat on the ground playing with a spider. As you walked closer you heard her muttering one of her riddles. “She’s our sister.” defended her Aemond, right when you appeared next to him and took his hand, sending a small smile his way, which he returned. “You marry her then”. Lately, it has been revealed that the two eldest children of Queen Alicent are betrothed. You pitied your friend, Aegon was probably the most horrid person you have ever encountered.

“I would perform my duty, if only mother had only betrothed us. But I am to marry someone else.” with that he looked at you. “I am happy to be marrying you, as you are the best possible choice.” you said to him, squeezing his hand tighter. The small council also decided on a marriage between you and the King’s second son.

“She’s an idiot.” said Aegon and your blood boiled. “At least she’s not a complete moron and a drunk.” you bit back and Aemond had to fight back a grin. “Oh you little witch.” said the boy and tried to advance towards you unsuccessfully.

“She’s your future Queen” said the younger brother. It was a known fact that the Queen and the Hand wish to put him on the throne instead of Princess Rhaenyra. War was inevitable. “We do have something in common.” said Aegon, when a maid came over with a tray of wine. “We both fancy creatures with very long legs.” and with that he strolled away in search for more alcohol.

That left you alone with Aemond. Suddenly the pair of you heard unmistakably a roar of the dragon in the distance. Vhagar, the she-dragon of Queen Visenya, that recently became riderless. You look at your companion and noticed the longing look in his eyes. “Aemond. What are you thinking?” you said to get his attention. He turned to you for a second before continuing to stare in the direction of the sound. “She’s hurting, mourning the loss of lady Laena. I always wanted to see her, after all, she is the last living symbol of the conquest. “ you kept going. “Hmm. Maybe we should go and see her then.” you looked at him as he said that. “Tonight, after everyone’s asleep so that no one stops us.”You were used to sneaking out, as you both often did so to spend time together in the keep’s library late at night, to read all the books you could find. After small moment of consideration, you nodded to let him know that you agree to the plan. Up untill the night, you spend time with each other exploring the Drftmark castle.

Soon enough it started to grow dark. You and your best friend stood next to the flight of stairs leading to the beach, looking at drunk Aegon. Just as you were planning to sneak off, the boys’ grandfather, Otto Hightower, came into view, grabbing the eldest prince to drag him to his bed. Aemond looked at you as they left and motioned to follow him, which you did without any worries. Both of you walked towards the place Vhagar nested in, and once the mighty dragon became visible, you were amazed. She was so big, that she did not need to open her mouth much to swallow the two of you. “Fuck” muttered Aemond. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” you whispered and couldn’t tear your gaze away. And with you saying that the white-haired boy proceeded to move closer towards her. Your brows furrowed at the act and you asked “My prince? What are you doing?”

Aemond turned to face you and said “She is unclaimed and she’s suffering. I can’t let it go on.”. You then understood what he meant and the idea of your betrothed going straight into the jaws of the biggest dragon alive made you uneasy. “Aemond. This is a bad idea! She could burn you! Or eat you!” you argued. “It is my right, both of our right, to claim a dragon.” you knew that, but there were so many dragons without riders. Surely you could make a trip to Dragonstone and try your luck with others, nonetheless, you knew that once Aemond set his mind on something, there is no changing it.

“Just please, be careful.” you muttered into his ear as you hugged the boy. Unwanted tears gathered in your eyes, as you saw him approach the animal. You were pretty far away and too lost in your own mind to hear him say anything. When Vhagar opened her mouth to breathe fire, you almost fainted from worry, but you believed that he could do it. And he did it, the dragon accepted him as his rider, letting him climb atop her for their first flight. You were so proud of the prince and you beamed into the sky screaming “Yes Aemond! You did it!” and laughing. Once the flight was done and he climbed down, he called you to his side. You came over slowly, wary of the dragon, as you knew, they don’t like the presence of people, who aren’t their riders.

“I did it! Did you see? I was flying!” Aemond became a ball of energy at this moment and you couldn’t help but grin. “You did it. You’re finally a dragon rider.” and with that, you hugged him. “I’m so proud of you.”. He gave you a beautiful smile, but it slightly fell, once you said “But scare me like that ever again and I will kill you.”. Taking his hand, you both started walking back towards the castle and Aemond told you all about the experience, and how freeing, yet terrifying it felt. Neither of you expected to encounter a problem once you walked inside.

“It’s them.” said one of your half-sisters. In the entrance stood the daughters of the late Lady Laena, along with Jace and Luke. “It’s us.” confirmed Aemond when you both emerged from the darkness. “Vhagar is my mother’s dragon. She was mine to claim.” exclaimed Rhaena and you could clearly see rage overcoming her. “Dragons aren’t possessions to be passed down, dear sister.” you told her and everyones eyes turned to you. “Aemond had the right to claim her and she chose him. It is done.” you defended your prince and he gave you a small smile before saying “Perhaps your cousins would find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.” Not that long ago Aegon, Jace, and Luke pulled a prank on Aemond, dressing up a pig in wings, calling it Pink Dread. With that Rhaena tried to hit him, but he dodged the attempt and pushed her away, making Baela strike him on the nose. With that, all hell broke loose and you knew that it will not end well. You tried to stop them “No! Leave him alone! He didn’t do anything wrong!”, but someone pushed you away and you banged your head against the torch on a wall. You could feel the bleeding and the ache, but you ignored it to observe what was happening in front of you.

Aemond was holding Luke by the neck, while in his other hand he gripped a rock. “You will die screaming as you father did. Bastards.” he said and you were shocked, not because you didn’t believe it, but rather because he said it out loud. Everyone knew Princess Rhaenyra was having an affair with Ser Harwin Strong. How else would anyone explain the certain resemblance he has to the “Velaryon” boys? They do not look anything like their supposed father Ser Laenor. The King Viserys was conveniently blind to it, but everyone knew that he just prefered to conceal the truth to protect his “only child”. “My father’s still alive.” said Luke and you watched a smirk appear on the white-haired prince’s face. “He doesn’t know, does he? Lord Strong.” he continued and you had to intervene. “Aemond stop. That’s enough. Let’s finish this madness.” you tried to convince him to let the younger prince go. He looked at you and that’s when Luke broke free and both he and Jace attacked Aemond. Before you could comprehend what was happening you saw a flash of knife and blood chilling scream of your betrothed.

You ran towards him and saw him clutching his eye tightly. The bastard took his eye. “Aemond!” you screamed. “Guards! What are you waiting for?! Get help!” you yelled at your sisters and cousins, while trying to soothe Aemond. Soon enough guards poured in and one of them pulled you away from your best friend, much to your protest. “My prince. Let me see.” The guard turned Aemond around and saw the wound. “Gods be good” Gods be good indeed. You were all taken to the hall and the adults were called. By that time you felt very faint from the blood loss and passed out. You didn’t hear the exchange between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra as you did not wake in time, but you know, as did everyone in the realm, what transpired there.

You woke up two days later, and you took time to recover. It did not stop you from visiting Aemond in his chambers or going to the gardens and spending time with Helaena. One day as you were walking to your rooms, you overheard a conversation between Queen Alicent and Lord Larys Strong. They were discussing the issue of your father marrying Princess Rhaenyra and the scandal it caused. Both believed they had a hand in Ser Laenor’s murder, but what was said in this conversation rang in your head for days. “I would not put it passed Prince Daemon to murder the princess’s husband. After all, nothing stopped him from killing his first wife.” Your mother’s death wasn’t an accident, because it was Daemon who murdered her to finally be free of marriage duty. Since that day you hated your father even more and you promised yourself, that you would avenge your beloved mother.

time skip six years later

You and Aemond have been married for a year now and you recently welcomed a child into the world, a beautiful girl named Alysanne after the Good Queen, who looked like exact copy of the prince. Your husband a wonderful father and lover. Since the day your daughter was born he has been spending all of his free time tending to you both. Even though the Driftmark accident caused the prince to be colder and more intimidating, he was very caring and soft towards you, your daughter, his mother and his sister. Only the women of his family were privileged to see this side of him. After your wedding you relocated to Runestone and you took over your responsibilities as a Lady of the house. Aemond unsurprisingly thrived in the Vale as the Lord of Runestone, as he was dutiful, smart and formidable. You were content there, but you visited the Red Keep as often as you could on your dragons. Yes, you heard correctly. Dragons. About two years after the loss of Aemonds eye, you stumbled upon a dragon of your own. It was one of the wild ones, that terrified anyone who heard his name. You claimed the notorious Canniball. During the last visit to King’s Landing, Helaena gifted you both a dragonn egg from Dreamfire’s latest clutch to put into Alysanne’s cradle.

Just last night the three of you arrived at court for the Driftmark petitions, that are being held in approximately three days. Corlys Velaryon suffered a terrible injury during his voyage and no one could be sure if he will recover. This plundged the succession into question. Lord Vaemond Velaryon publicly questioned Lucerys Velaryon’s right to become the next Lord of the Tides. King Viserys has been bedridden for a long time now, and the realm was placed into the hands of Hightowers, who ruled in his stead. Princess Rhaenyra was informed of the petition and was to come to the Red Keep to defend her son, and along with her will come the whole black fraction of Targaryen family. You weren’t keen on seeing any of them again, especially Prince Daemon, as you held strong resentment towrads the man.

On the day of their arrival you and your daughter were on the country yard watching Aemond train with Ser Criston Cole. Soon you saw the two eldest sons of heir to the iron throne and smirked at their terrified expressions, while they realised what formidable fighter your husband was. With a few more strikes of the blade Aemond defeated Cole. “Congratulations my Prince, you’ll be winning tourneys in no time.” said the knight. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys.” you beloved answered and directed his eyes towards the boys. “Nephews. Have you come to train?”. In that moment the gate opened and in walked Vaemond Velaryon, advancing towards the keep, he casted the nastiest look he could muster towards his “nephews”.

After that Jace and Luke scurried away inside, probably in search of their mother or Daemon for protection and Aemond walked up to you and took your daughter into his arms, while she blabbed excitetly at her father. “It seems, my love, that you scare them off.” you said, smilig at him. “Hmmm. Good. It is best they learn their place. I am not so easily defeated now.” and with that he placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you in direction of your chambers. When you walked inside, Aemond placed your daughter in her cradle, while you sat next to the fireplace. “I wish for you to behave today. I know that their presence irritates you, but it is not for long and we don’t need any fights today. Gods know my father is only waiting for a reason to kill us all, so it will be best not to give him one.” Aemond only hummed at that and went to stand behind you to massage you neck. “You’re tense.” he stated the obvious. “Of course I am. It is stressfull enough to be in one keep with him. Seriously Aemond, do not do anything to cause a fight today, I beg you.” you truned to look him straight into the eye. “For you, my darling wife, I will be civil, but don’t expect me to be nice.” he answered. You nodded in confirmation. That was all you needed.

Finally it was time for the petitions to be held. You stood between Aemond and Heleana, looking straight into the eyes of Prince Daemon Targaryen and he held your gaze, as if it was a staring contest. Lord Hand stood before the Iron Throne and declared the petitions to be open. First one to make his was Ser Vaemond. His statement was going all about the Velaryon blood, and how his supposed nephews did not have a drop of it in themselves. Princess Rhaenyra tried to intervene, only to be stopped by you mother-in-law. At the end of his petiton he put himself forward as the successor of his brother. It was now the turn of your stepmother to defend her son’s right. She walked gracefully towards the throne and started to say “If I have to grace this farce, I must remind you, that yearly twenty years ago in this very room..”

She was interrupted by the doors swinging open as the knight announced “King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”. Everyone couldn’t hide their surprise, after all, the king hasn’t been seen in a long time, too sick to even get up from his bed. And yet here he was, walking to the throne with a golden mask covering half of his face, leaning on the support of a cane. “Father has once again come to defend his only child.” sneered Aegon. You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips, it was true, he never shown any care to anyone other than his eldest daughter, and for that you hated the man almost as much as you did your father. In your eyes he was a weak king and even a weaker man. Disgraceful.

In that moment everyone knew that Driftmark will be going to Lucerys, no matter how wrong it was and how many people protested against it. Luke was a sweet boy, but he had no right to the Driftwood Throne. “I don’t understand why are we discussing a settled succesion.” the king said after finally settling on the throne. “The only one, who could offer keeper insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”. The said princess took a step closer before answering her cousin. “Indeed Your Grace. It was in Lord Corlys’ wishes for Driftmark to be passed to his grandson, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor my support of him. Princess Rhaenyra offered to betroth her children, Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.” You all knew that is was pointless to argue now. Viserys affirmed Lucerys as the future Lord of the Tides, but it wasn’t acceptable to Ser Vaemond as he openly declared the sons of the heir as bastards. “I will have you tongue for that” rasped the king, but it wasn’t necessary. Prince Daemon Targaryen unnoticed by everyone sneaked behind Vaemond, Dark Sister in his hand, and cut off his head in one strike. Everyone in the hall got startled at that and the petitions were over. The King had to be carried out of the hall as he suddenly fell down.

“Did you see them? Flaunting their privilege without a care in the world. It is horrible how they think they can get away with everything.” you spoke on the way back to your chambers with Aemond trailing behind you. “Darling. Do not worry, it will not last long anyway.” your husband tried to coax you to calm down. After walking into the room, you headed straight to the cradle where Alysanne laid awake, playing with a dragon plushie you made for her during your tea with Helaena. The prince dismissed the maid who was watching your daughter and walked over to you two. “I’m scared Aemond. You saw what he did there. He has no restrain, I fear what he would do to us, to her.” you said and looked at the babe. “He will do nothing, for he would be called a kinslayer. And I shall protect you both with my life. Nothing will happen, I promise you.” That made you hug him and bury your face in his chest. Everything has to be alright.

The night came, and with it the dreaded family dinner, which was demanded by Viserys in honor of his family being all in the same place for the first time in six years. You were talking with Helaena about setting up another playdate for your kids, while your husbands stood to the side talking Gods know about what. Eventually, everyone took their seats. You and your husband were at the end of it, exactly in front of Lucerys and Rhaena. You all stood up when the King was carried in and so let the game of pretending begin. “It is good to see you all, together” Viserys started and Alicent proposed to say prayers. The King stood up for a speech. “My own face is no longer a handsome one, if indeed it ever was” he revealed his full face, which was missing an eye. He looked more like a skeleton than a human. “But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father.” he looked towards Rhaenyra, Aegon, Helaena and Aemond. “your husband” he said to Alicent. “and your grandsire who may not, it seems, walk for much longer among you.” Everyone’s faces displayed something else, but what they all had in common, was pain of seeing him suffer. “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”. After his speech, Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent made toasts to each other and the atmosphere became lighter. Everyone were enjoying themselves, the room was full of music, laughter, dancing, and pleasant conversations. It was all going smoothly until the pig was brought to the table and set directly in front of your husband. By that time Viserys was carried out as he felt worse. That made Lucerys chuckle, as he was reminded of Pink Dread, and send a smirk Aemonds way. This was his mistake, as the older prince suddenly slammed his hand onto the table, grabbed his cup and made the final toast of the night.

“Final tribute.” with saying that he had everyone’s attention and Aegon raised his cup in support of his brother. “To the health of my nephews: Jace…Luke…and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” every person in the room held their breath as their waited for inevidable. “Strong.” “Aemond” you and Alicent said at the same time, but he did not listen and he was not about to stop. “Come…Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” that made Jace mad and he went to retaliate. “I dare you to say that again” the bronze haired boy said and everyone stood up from their seats in case a fight erupted. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment” continued your husband. “Enough of that” you said at the same time Aemond aksed “Do you not thing yourself Strong?”. Jace came over and hit the elder prince straight on the jaw, but it did nothing for Aemond only laughed and shoved the Velaryon onto the floor.“Jace!” screamed Rhaenyra. Lucerys tried to join the fight to help his brother, only to be stopped by Aegon, who slammed him on the table. “That’s enough” said Alicent. You were mad and decided to storm out of the room.

Not much later you husband stepped into the comfort of your chambers where he found you staring outside the window. He walked closer but you immediately took a step back and hissed at him “I asked you not to do anything today. But as always you had to let your pride ruin everything. Now you put a target on our backs. Daemon won’t let this go.”. “My love…” he started only to be cut off by you. “No! I do not want to hear your pitiful excuses.” Aemond scowled at you and you could see him getting angry. “That bastard dared to laugh at me. AT ME! Because of that fucking pig! I was only defending myself!” you only scoffed at that and walked towards the fireplace, further away from him. “If you had any decency you would have ignored it. But you didn’t! Instead you behaved like some peasant and started throwing insults and then began a fight”. “Jaecerys hit me first! He began the fight!” your husband defended himself but his look softened as he saw how worried you were. He kneeled before you and took your hand in his placing a kiss atop of it. “I’m sorry darling. I should’ve composed myself and ignore him. You are right. Please forgive me”. You looked at him and pulled the eyepatch off his face. “I just worry. I don’t want anything bad to happen. We should probably head back to Runestone. I think we overstayed this visit.” Aemond agreed and you decided to set back to the Vale in a couple of days.

But what you didn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be able to return to your keep, as for when you were sleeping, King Viserys drew his last breath and told his lady wife the dream of song of ice and fire, which was interpreted to put Aegon on the throne. War was on the horizont and no one was safe. Your and your family’s happiness and peace is about to become EPHEMERAL.

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A/N: My obsession with Aemond Targaryen and Ewna Mitchell reached to the point where i decided to give it a try and write something. Anyways, English is not my 1st language, so there may be some mistakes in writing. If you would like a part II of this story, please let me know in the comments. It would mean the world to me if you decided to leave a heat here ♡

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user211201 · 7 months ago

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Branded

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Originally posted on 2020-05-27 by dumb-and-jocked

Unfortunately dumb-and-jocked's account has been deactivated.

If the original author ever reads this: thank you for all your works!

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Zane wasn’t particularly excited about going out to his uncle’s ranch. The two had never really known how to connect, with one being from the East Coast and the other in rural Wyoming. Zane had grown up privileged in the urban lifestyle, with many stores, jobs, and more progressive influences around every corner. His parents were also a little richer than most, so he was able to enjoy a luxurious apartment all to himself while he attended Yale. Well... not all to himself. His boyfriend Kaeden visited so often he was practically a second resident, but Zane didn’t mind--he loved the attention.

Zane practically adored his modern lifestyle, and made sure to show it by never leaving a five-mile radius. This caused his parents to worry, assuming if he didn’t start now he’d never know how to go out on his own. Trying to help (like all parents did), his father spoke with his brother and the two set up a little spring vacation for Zane. When Zane’s father had proposed the idea, Zane didn’t exactly jump in excitement. In fact, he didn’t seem excited at all.

“Really?” Zane asked coarsely. “Spring break is for beaches, coasts, actual fun!”

“Zane,” his father replied coolly. “I didn’t raise you to be a leech off of my own money. Go out to your uncle’s ranch and give him a hand; earn something for once. And anyway, Wyoming’s great this time of year--you might enjoy it!”

“Can I at least bring Kaeden with me?”

His father’s eyes went down for a moment. Zane always had a lurking feeling that his father wasn’t truly alright with his only son being gay, his Western Christian roots molding him that way, but his dad always acted like he was accepting. Proving Zane’s point, he swore he could’ve seen his dad’s ears perk up a second after the proposal was made.

“That’s a great idea!” his dad cheered, almost too enthusiastically. “Now someone can relish in the same pain you’ll be experiencing.” Zane rolled his eyes in response to the sarcasm before walking out to his car.

Reflecting back on that moment, his father did seem a little more eager than usual, but Zane didn’t care. It was too late now, as the old pickup truck was pulling into the driveway of the ranch. A huge arch loomed above them, displaying “WELCH” in iron letters across the top. Back when it used to be his grandparents’ ranch, Zane’s father loved this place. He used to thrive as a cowboy, but once he got a taste of the other side of the Mississippi, he left the lifestyle behind him. The rest of the family seemed alright with the transition, with Zane’s uncle being the older brother anyway, meaning he would be taking the ranch, so they decided to let him roam. His uncle had now been running the ranch for almost ten years, just him, his wife, and a small crew to help with the daily tasks.

“Alright, boys, enjoy the trip,” the man in the front grunted as he halted to a stop. Kaeden and Zane slowly jumped out of the truck, grabbing their bags as they looked at the massive farm. Zane swore it looked bigger than the last time he was here, but that was to be expected. The last time he was here was a decade ago for his grandparents’ funerals, so there was probably going to be change. While Kaedan gazed around in awe, Zane spotted what--or who--he was looking for. Leaning against one looming building was a tall man wearing a blue button-up and worn-out jeans. His large boots were placed firmly on the ground and a barn wall, while a beige hat rested proudly on top of his head. He looked like a more muscular, worn-out version of his father, his similar salt and pepper stubble pulling the whole look together.

“Zaney boy, is that yeu?” the man asked in astonishment, the southern accent as prominent as ever.

“Yeah, Uncle Treyton.”

Zane tried to sound enthusiastic, but he never felt like family with the redneck. Not only did the two have completely different perspectives, but they didn’t even look related. Zane didn’t share the same muscular body as the silver fox, but instead had a little too much meat on his bones. He also didn’t get the Welch height, with Zane’s lime-dyed hair barely even reaching his uncle’s neck.

“And this must be Kaeden Sargent, put it here!”

Zane’s uncle shoved a meaty hand in front of him and Kaeden quickly accepted. He was always more optimistic than Zane, putting his best foot forward into every situation. The tall, lanky man took the other’s hand and shook it vigorously, so much in fact that his ginger curls bounced in a rhythm. Fortunately, the baby fat surrounding his face allowed him to act a little childish.

“Firm, that’ll go a long ways here, son.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“Ah, y’all can call me Treyton.”

Kaeden and Zane exchanged looks at each other. For a Christian cowboy, he was awfully accepting of their relationship. Neither of them expected Zane’s uncle to be so understanding.

“Where’s Aunt Joelene at?” Zane inquired as they hauled their bags inside.

“Her and the lady folk already had a vacation planned, so she ain’t gonna be here this week. Just some good ‘ol male bonding!”

He led them to two guest rooms on opposite sides of a hallway, telling them to toss their individual bags into one or the other. Zane and Kaeden exchanged looks again, although this time it was for a different reason. They both knew they might be staying in different rooms, but not sleeping.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang from the front of the house. After dropping their things, Zane and Kaedan followed Treyton back out to the front door. The trio wandered out to the foyer to see another cowboy smugly standing on the porch.

“Harry!” Treyton shouted as he swung the door open. “‘Bout time ya got here--the nephew’s in town.”

Harry looked over at Zane, inspecting him and then Kaeden with hawk eyes. His tight black shirt didn’t hide the impressive muscles from years on the farm. The same could be said for his faded jeans and massive belt buckle, both of which did nothing to camouflage his gargantuan pouch.

“Is yers that paddy?” he remarked with a deep voice, his accent as thick as Treyton’s. “Or the fag.”

“They’re both fags,” Treyton corrected. “The paddy’s his ‘boyfriend’.”

Kaeden patted Zane’s shoulder in a comforting way. Treyton’s language had just confirmed that they had signed themselves up for a long vacation.

“I don’t mean to be abandonin’ y’all so quickly, but the town’s rodeo’s goin’ on tonight and I’m a volunteerin’,” Zane’s uncle began. “Everythin’ there is free, so I expect to see y’all out there. It’ll be a great time!”

The two hicks strutted over to Harry’s old pickup truck, the engine roaring mighty proud as it came to life. Zane and Kaedan wondered how they hadn’t heard it coming down the driveway.

“Keys are on the counter!” Treyton hollered as they drove off. Kaeden smirked lowering his hand from Zane’s shoulder to his butt as they watched the other pair leave.

“Might as well taint your uncle’s house before we go to the rodeo.”

“You really want to go to that thing?” Zane whined, missing the hint.

“No, but we should,” Kaeden replied. “Until then, let me keep you entertained.” He then started kissing Zane’s neck passionately, dragging him down a hallway.

“Alright!” Zane giggled, following along. He loved his boyfriend.

— —

Kaeden and Zane hesitantly pulled into the parking lot, the dirt flying into the air as they parked the rusty pickup near the back. The whole event took place in some kind of stadium, but instead of a neatly trimmed field with shiny seats, there were wooden bleachers and a dirt floor. They weren’t particularly excited, going from hardcore sex to this dump, but as long as they were at each other’s sides they’d make it through. At least, that’s what Zane kept telling himself.

The two cautiously jumped out, wearing sweatpants and matching concert tees from an event they went to on their fifth date. Zane had thought that if they wore their most casual clothes, they’d blend into the crowd, but it turned out this was truly his first rodeo. Walking up to the front gate, they saw a rainbow of button-ups scattered among the stretched and stained tees. Hicks and cowboys galore excitedly hollered as they entered the rodeo grounds. The strange thing was, it seemed like people were gathering by color. Zane and Kaeden watched the red button-ups slowly separate from the yellow tees, who themselves avoided the purple plaid-clad group. Even with the odd formation, the pair stuck out like two weeds in a freshly-planted garden.

“Alright next!”

Zane and Kaeden had been so perplexed by the entire situation that they hadn’t noticed they had crossed the parking lot, gotten in line, and made it to the front.

“Zaney boy, ya made it!”

Zane’s uncle proudly stood behind a booth, waving as the boyfriends walked up. Harry was placed on the other side, his look much more calculating than Treyton’s inviting smile.

“Are y’all excited?” Uncle Treyton asked, his accent coming out stronger with each syllable.

“Totally,” Kaeden answered, assuming his other half wouldn’t.

“Let us just stamp y’all and yeu’ll be on in.”

“Wait, why are we the only one’s getting stamped?” Kaedan observed. Zane hadn’t noticed, but all the other attendees had gotten in without a mark.

“Remember how I said y’all are gettin’ in free tonight,” Treyton explained. “This is yer free ticket.”

They nodded their heads as Kaeden extended the back of his hand out to Zane’s uncle. Treyton solidly pressed a stamp down on his hand, the blue color left behind sinking deep into his pale skin like a tattoo. Zane proceeded to do the same for Harry, who marked his hand with a black darker than the night itself.

“What do the colors mean?” Zane questioned.

“Whatever ink we’re usin’.” Harry snarked, sending him on his way. Zane sighed as he strolled through the gate.

“I’ll be at a food stand later tonight so make sure to come and visit me!” Treyton shouted as they disappeared into the crowd.

“We can do this,” Kaeden whispered, grabbing Zane’s hand and dragging him to the stands. He sounded reassuring, but Zane couldn’t tell if it was for him or Kaedan himself.

“It’s just for tonight,” Kaedan continued, “After that, we won’t have to deal with Harry, or anyone for that matter. Except for your uncle of course.”

Zane grinned--his boyfriend always knew how to cheer him up.

“And besides,” Kaeden continued. “Look at how much we have to explore!”

It might have been a bit exaggerated, but there was a some space to venture. Besides the stands, there were a few porta potties, some food stands, and a big tent filled with gear for the local country radio station. The tent was their first destination, looking through all the merchandise and advertisements. Although they both hated country music, they had fun exploring the booth, even signing up for a raffle to a Chase Rice concert. Did they know who he was? No--but they didn’t care. Even though they got a few sideways glances from passing families and couples, they were actually enjoying their time at the rodeo. Zane and Kaeden were there to have fun just like everyone else.

9.8 SECONDS! THAT WAS A GOOD TUSSLE, DAVE!

The pair watched on as the participant was whipped off the horse’s back. The first few rounds had looked painful, but Kaeden and Zane eventually stopped flinching after every contestant. It was the sport after all, so they shouldn’t be worried unless everyone else was worried. The uncomfortable thing was, everyone at the rodeo did seem slightly on edge, but it wasn’t over the participants. Unsurprisingly, it was over them.

“Hey,” Zane said, elbowing his partner to grab his attention. “Is it me or is there something strange about the crowd here?”

“You mean how they’re all looking at us like we’re sick?” Kaeden asked, not tearing his eyes away from the next contestant.

8.7 SECONDS! IMPRESSIVE GRIP FROM HANK!

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know, I mean…” Zane stumbled off, noticing Kaeden was still focused on the riders.

9.4 SECONDS! NICE JOB MARV!

“Earth to Kaedan!” Zane snapped, finally snatching the other’s attention. “For example, did we miss out on some color-coded theme? Why is everyone segregated?”

Kaeden glanced around the stands, noticing what his boyfriend was talking about. Although everyone was clumped together, there were noticeable separations. It seemed like groups of men, women, and children were organized by the shading of their clothes. It was peculiar, but so were most small, rural towns.

“Calm down, babe,” Kaeden replied nonchalantly. “It’s probably just some cheerleading thing, you know? Like someone’s family wears orange because their their fanclub.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Zane conceded.

10.1 SECONDS! I’D EXPECT NOTHING LESS FROM RYLAN!

“You’re probably just paranoid from all the homophobia around here,” Kaeden reasoned. “But luckily, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

“Oh really,” Zane responded coyly.

“Definitely, meet me at your uncle’s food stand and I’ll get us some snacks.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna head to a restroom first.”

“Miss me!” Kaeden exclaimed as he rushed down the risers. Zane grinned, knowing he was lucky to have snagged his boyfriend.

— —

“Ah! Sorry,” Zane grunted as he shimmied out of the porta potty door, noticing the growing line that had assembled outside. He thought he hadn’t taken too long, but when one’s bowels beg for release, one has to give in. Walking with a little pep in his step, he eagerly bounced his way around the rodeo grounds to find his uncle’s food stand. Kaeden knew Zane had a soft spot for food, which was pretty evident by the soft spots around his hips. He was excited to see what he had gotten for him. After wandering around for a minute, he finally spotted his uncle stepping outside an old trailer.

“Uncle Treyton!” Zane shouted as he approached.

“Eh, Zane! What’s up? Enjoyin’ the rodeo?”

“I guess?” Zane replied honestly. “Have you seen Kaeden?”

“Ah yeah, he was my last customer for the night. I saw him walkin’ over to the picnic area,” Treyton grunted, locking the door to the trailer as he closed up.

“Thanks!” Zane responded, beginning to walk off.

“Hold on there, cowboy!” Treyton demanded, chuckling at his own irony. “I’m gonna be headin’ back to the ranch, gotta long day of work tomorrow, so make sure y’all don’t stay out too late.”

“Sounds good, Uncle Treyton!” Zane started again, desperately wanting to get back to Kaeden.

“AND!” Treyton emphasized. “Harry wanted to see ya ‘bout somethin’ before ya left. He should be at the stables.”

“Great, thanks!” Zane tore off, almost kicking up the dirt behind him as he darted back towards the porta potties. He made it to the picnic area in record time, almost panting as he slowed down. The so-called “picnic area” was really just a group of tables resting behind the bleachers, with no real purpose besides having a surface to eat at. Zane searched for Kaeden, but it seemed like the place was totally empty. The only person he saw was a man sitting alone, ravenously scarfing down an order of nachos. He was wearing a blue plaid button-up and the same straight, overused jeans as every other man at the rodeo. He also adorned a cowboy hat, a quite brawny body, and a bulge much larger than both Kaedan and Zane’s combined. The cowboy looked to be in his late 20’s, but his brunette chin strap and mustache combo made him seem older. Zane approached the other man delicately, noticing the redneck’s very large boots tap eagerly as he chowed on his food.

“Um, excuse me…” Zane mumbled quietly. “I was wondering if-”

“Zane!” the man jumped up from his seat. “I was worryin’ ‘bout you! Thought you might’ve gotten stuck er somethin’.” Zane shook his head, confused at who the low-pitched, southern gent was exactly.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Zane, it’s Clayton!” he paused, waiting for Zane to remember.

“Clayton Sherman?” Zane was still bewildered, until something clicked in his head.

“Wait, Kaedan?”

“No, Clayton. Didja hit yer head or somethin’?”

Zane felt a little crazy, but something supernatural was pulling him towards this stranger. He didn’t know what the force was, but his curiosity guided him.

“One sec, just let me check something.”

Zane grabbed Clayton’s right hand swiftly, finding the same blue stamp that his boyfriend had received earlier. Although it had faded dramatically, it was good enough proof for Zane.

“Kaedan, what happened to you? How did you become like this? What happened after you left the stand?” Zane must have been hallucinating. There was no way his long, slim, ginger lover had become some horse-kickin’, tobacco-spittin’ cowboy, right?

“First off, it’s Clayton,” Clayton responded calmly. “And I did exactly what I said I would. I went to yer uncle’s stand and got us some food. He told me he’d give us ‘somethin’ special’ and slapped my hand, saying it would be on the house. Can you believe it? These darn nachos were free!”

“Alright,” Zane quickly remarked. “Then what?”

“Well, I waited for ya, but the nachos kept lookin’ at me. So, I thought ya wouldn’t mind if I took a bite. One bite became two, then three, and now we’re here.” Clayton showed Zane the empty box, beaming a childish smile.

“Kaedan, I don’t under-”

Suddenly, Zane grabbed his head as he felt a shock go through his skull. He grimaced as it coursed through his brain, causing him to shake momentarily before regaining his thoughts. As fast as the pain had come, it had disappeared too.

“Y’all ok there?” Clayton asked, patting Zane’s shoulder in a brotherly way.

“Yeah, I think so,” Zane blinked. “What were we talking about again?”

“How I ate all the food!” Clayton hollered, laughing at himself in a low guffaw. “We oughta get back to the rodeo though, Little Petey’s going up soon.”

“Little Petey?” Zane mumbled to himself as the two hoisted themselves up. At first, he didn’t recognize the name, but the more he thought about it, the more memories that seemed to appear. Little Petey was Clayton’s little brother of course! Both Clayton and Pete Sherman were expert horse riders, having both broken records for steer wrestling and bull riding. They’d also been the star quarterbacks for the town back in their prime, but now with Pete turning 26 and Clayton having his second kid on the way, they were ready to settle down and start (or continue) their families.

“Yeah! I gotta run on back to Cassie and Trevor. Nice seein’ ya round these parts again!”

Clayton tossed the empty carton into the trash and ran off back to the stands. Zane watched the man dash up the wooden bleachers to his wife and first boy, embracing them as he sat down to continue watching the show. He sunk right back into the cluster of blue, completely camouflaged by the other people in the crowd. Zane didn’t really know Clayton, just remembered him as someone who worked at his uncle’s farm. He seemed nice, but definitely not friend-material. He had a little too much homophobia and country in him. Zane stopped for a moment to correct himself. Clayton didn’t have a little too much; he had a lot of too much.

8.3 SECONDS! LET’S HEAR IT FOR MIKE!

Deciding he had nothing else to do, Zane started heading back towards the parking lot. Although the event seemed kind of interesting, Zane was too lonesome to really find any joy in the situation. Even his uncle’s presence would’ve made him want to stay, but with no one there by his side, Zane decided to head out. Right as he stepped through the gate, he suddenly recalled his uncle saying something about Harry wanting to see him. He didn’t like Harry, and he assumed it worked the other way around too, but Zane knew he should respect his uncle’s wishes.

8.9 SECONDS! DANNY’S HERE TO STAY!

Zane stumbled into the area housing the horse stables, the place completely deserted besides the rolling tumbleweeds. Strolling past a few horse-buses, it didn’t take long to find Harry. He grinned as Zane approached, holding a lasso in one hand.

“‘Bout time you got here, thinkin’ you got lost er somethin’.”

“Wish I would have,” Zane mumbled to himself as Harry tossed an arm around his shoulder. Harry suddenly seemed more cheery than he had been before.

“Did yer uncle tell ya what yer doing here?”

“No, but I hope it’s not too long; I’m getting tired.” To emphasize his point, Zane faked a huge yawn.

“Not that, fag,” Harry chuckled, dropping down one end of the rope. “I mean this vacation.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back in high school, yer pops, uncle, and I used to be the studs of the town. Valuable players, intimidatin’ cowboys, 100% corn-fed beef. But when yer pops was offered an education out east, the three of us fell apart.”

“Yeah, so what?”Zane was uninterested, finding the cowboy’s bulge as the only thing appealing about Harry. Zane had a bad habit of checking out other men when he was single.

“Well,” Harry continued, dragging Zane into a stable. “When yer pops saw how off-track he had raised ya, he called up Treyton and I to put a little country in ya. We knew we were gonna have fun, but when ya brought along that Irish laddy too, that was just a cherry for the top.”

Zane shook his head in bewilderment. Who was Harry talking about? He had obviously come here alone.

“See, originally Treyton wanted you as part of his ranch, but when yer boyfriend came he decided to pass the sweeter treat off to me. I think yeu’ll really-”

“Woah, slow down a moment,” Zane rubbed his temples, losing track of everything.

“Ah, I fergot about the mental stuff,” Harry contemplated, thinking about how to explain everything. He had to find a way to explain it all to the boy.

“Remember how everyone in the stands was segregated by their clothin’ color?”

“Yeah?” Zane clearly remembered, as he had stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn’t understand why this was important now.

“Well, they’re all branded to some ranch, that’s why they stick to one color.”

Harry’s answer made sense to him, but Zane was still visibly perplexed.

“Look at Kae- I mean Clayton Sherman,” Harry started. “He works for yer uncle’s ranch. What color to they wear?”

“Blue?”

“Exactly!” Harry slapped Zane’s back, knocking the wind out of the other man.

“Every color here is for someone’s ranch. Blue is Welch, green is Smith, white for Johnson-”

“How... how many are there?” Zane stuttered, the pieces gradually coming together.

“10, ‘cluding myself,” Harry responded proudly.

“So what you’re saying,” Zane reasoned. “Is that these ranch owner’s ‘brand’ people to be part of their ‘ranch,’ claiming them as their property?”

“Eeyup.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Thought you oughta know beforehand.”Zane was about to ask what that meant, but before he could speak, something clicked together in his head.

“You own one of these ‘ranches’?”

“The stunnin’ Mueller Ranch.”

“And what color are you?”

Zane already knew the answer, hoping to distract the other man, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge Harry’s launch. The older cowboy tackled Zane to the ground, the stench of hay and manure infiltrating Zane’s lungs as his face graced the dirt floor. Zane, not one to be athletic, surprisingly twisted himself out of Harry’s grasp, rolling sideways before getting up and escaping. He started running to his truck, desperately shuffling through his pockets to find the keys. Frantically scurrying away, he didn’t even notice his foot slip right out from beneath him.

“Gotcha!”

Harry cackled heartily as he looked upon his captured prey, who was clawing at the rope helplessly. It seemed like a scene from an old western cartoon: the fool stepping into the lasso and getting caught. Harry had already tied the other end of the rope to a stable post, approaching Zane with a face gleaming with malice. Zane trembled in fear, giving up hope on flight and nervously accepting the fight. As Harry took the final steps, Zane's cowered timidly as he gave up. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew something was going to be over. Then, to Zane’s pure surprise, a hand stretched out to help him up.

“Come on,” Harry welcomed warmly.

Zane’s heart stopped. Was Harry… serious? Was this all some prank just to scare him? Zane didn’t know what was going on, but he decided that once he got out of this mess he’d stay in the sweet shelter of his uncle’s ranch. After the week was over, he was never coming back to this pathetic town, or Wyoming for that sake.

“Are ya gonna take it or what?”

Zane sighed, clasping his hand into Harry’s. As soon as they connected, Harry’s flowery smile instantly twisted back into the thorny smirk.

“It’s just too easy.”

Before Zane could react, Harry flipped the other’s hand over and tapped the black stamp. Instantaneously, time stopped around them. The whole moment felt electric, almost as if everything in existence had shifted, but it was simply only a light touch. Zane gasped as he got up, struggling to speak.

“What… what did you do?”

“Eh, nothin’ yeu’ll remember,” Harry chimed. Zane investigated the back of his hand, noticing a slight pulse as the black stamp began to fade. He was shocked to see the color slowly draining from it into his veins, noticing the same inky shade pumping into his bloodstream.

“Oh no,” Zane cried as a small crackling came from his knuckles. It sounded similar to an orchestra of crickets, the hundreds of minuscule pops signifying the growth of his average hands. Zane’s palms grew thicker at a sluggish pace, bloating with meat as his fingers grew into calloused sausages. Zane groaned in pain while his hands became paws, now feeling like he was wearing bulky, leather mittens instead of skin.

The raven color flew through Zane’s arms, gliding across his chest before venturing vertically. To Zane’s dismay, his unused tendons stretched intensely, expanding as they made room for the arriving muscular tissue. Biceps proudly emerged as their brotherly triceps erupted from underneath Zane’s flesh, causing him to writhe. His forearms gained some meat too before a tan wave swept across the surface of his skin. The classic shade darkened Zane’s pale skin as a field of hair was planted on top. Before long, Zane’s arms looked like an avid gym-goer’s, yet for some reason his mind told him they were from the farm.

After improving the upper appendages, the ink moved downwards, cutting through Zane’s chest. His deltoids pushed outwards as his collarbone expanded, barely extending his traps as his torso began to shift into the shape of a “T”. His pectorals ballooned outwards, forming into meaty packages with two perky nipples, obviously erect underneath his shrinking tee. After the pecs squared out, Zane moaned as a sturdy six pack pounded in, each abdominal packing a punch as it pushed forward. A light covering of fur erupted from his chest while the tan wave made sure to paint itself once more. Zane began panting for air violently, each breath sucking in a little body fat. It didn’t remove all of his fat, but enough to maintain something barely below a body-builder’s standards. His shirt also stitched itself back together, having been torn apart seconds before. The cheap concert tee grew black as it painted itself back onto Zane’s torso, the dusky color hiding its overuse.

Following were Zane’s legs, as the black blood dove deeper. His juicy thighs began to tighten, retaining their above-average size, but now containing more muscle than meat. After his quadriceps had hardened, his knees cracked violently, stretching out Zane’s calves to max him out at 6’2. The bottom of his sweatpants violently tore to reveal two meaty forelegs, both veiny, firm, and covered in a lathering of hair. His pale skin darkened as his legs were covered in a loose denim, locking away his lower appendages.

With Zane’s lower body now covered in an old pair of Wranglers, the ink took hold of his feet, which were currently snug in a pair of Sperry’s boat shoes, the only shoes he had brought with him. In an instant, the leather and cloth tore apart in the middle, blossoming open like a flower to reveal gargantuan Size 15 feet. Zane was appalled to see the hairy, meaty, and awfully rank monsters attached below his ankles, but to his luck, the shredded shoes began to reform. The leather gracefully became cowhide as it expertly resowed itself around Zane’s feet, traveling up to his midcalves to create two authentic cowboy boots. Zane however didn’t feel relieved, in fact all he could feel was the sweat of his massive feet filling up the shoes. His socks hadn’t reformed, so it appeared he was going commando in his boots.

The ink swam up to the top, touching up on any missed spots. After filling in Zane’s pits with a hearty amount of hair, the black blood filled in his neck, adding girth to support the maturing Adam’s apple. Vocal chords stretched as the Zane’s register reached new depths, causing him to violently cough and sputter as he adjusted, allowing the ink to shoot upwards. Zane cried out in pain as the black blood clutched his skull, pulling apart at the bones to give him a thicker head. While the baby fat was removed, his jaw was stretched horizontally, giving him a prominent chin just large enough for a cleft. His lips shrunk while his nose expanded, filling in along with his expanding brows. Zane’s eyes shifted from a bland brown to easy-going blue as his hair shaved away, leaving a no-effort buzzcut where a manicured mane once laid. The vibrant green color rapidly faded, giving way to a light brown that easily shaded in Zane’s new haircut and thickening chinstrap. Across his body, his skin tightened barely as his body packed on a few extra years. It wasn’t a noticeable difference, but Zane no longer had the same glow of young adulthood.

“Ah Lordee,” Zane grumbled, getting up as his language center reorganized itself. “What’d y’all do to me?”

“Well, there’s still one more thing to go,” Harry replied, watching Zane shakily ascend. When the other man stood straight, he now faced eye to eye with the other cowboy.

“What in tarnation is left?”

“Just give it a sec-”

“I ain’t got no time for games, I’m gettin’-”

Suddenly, Zane felt an electrifying pulse throughout his groin, the rest of the ink finally reaching his reproductive center. The black blood infiltrated his testicles, killing off the weak sperm as it overtook his pouch. Zane’s balls bloated as they became heavy with cowboy sperm, dropping dramatically due to the increased weight. The ink traveled into his medium-sized penis, engorging it almost instantly. At first, Zane felt like he was having the most powerful boner of his life, but he began to realize his dick was in fact growing. His member began pulsating with the foreign blood, elongating as it grew to a mighty 10 inches. In the back end, his buttocks blew up into two massive, hardened globes, pushing against the confines of one end of the jeans while his pouch took the other.

Losing all sense of reality, Zane furiously palmed himself through his jeans, the feeling of his newly-materialized boxer shorts rubbing against his sensitive tip driving him crazy. Precumming in seconds due to the pent up stress, Zane was too horny to realize what he was doing, or what he was losing. His prized Yale education evaporated like powdered milk into his ballsack. Next went his East Coast upbringing, his progressive ideas and urban lifestyle disappearing into the void that was his semen. In tow was his homosexuality, which was thrown into the fire inside his testicles. Even a sizeable chunk of his IQ was tossed into the mixing pot. Everything about Zane was sucked down into his sperm, ready to be expelled permanently.

“C’mon boy,” Harry shouted eagerly. “Ya know what ya want to do!”

Zane grunted as he groped himself once more, feeling a burst of static electricity coarse across his body. Grabbing a nearby fence, Zane steadied himself against the stable wall as he felt the rush coming.

“Wow-ie!”

A huge load of sperm coated the front of the Wranglers, causing the area beneath the giant belt buckle to darken dramatically. Not bothering to clean himself up, the young cowboy basked in the afterglow of ejaculation, truly content with himself. He adjusted his pouch one last time, with his other hand still secured to the fence.

“There ya go, that felt better, didn’t it?” Harry slapped a hand around the other man, securing the black cowboy hat on top of the other’s head while doing so.

“Ah yeah, Sir, that one was a goodie,” the other replied, the two slowly making their way back to the main grounds.

“Tell me, Wayne, where the wife and kids at? Shouldn’t they be at the rodeo?”

“They are, Sir,” Wayne responded quickly. “They’re sittin’ near the back of the bleachers with the other ranch families.”

“Ah I see.”

10.5 SECONDS! PETE’S WOWED US AGAIN FOLKS!

Harry paused in front of the main gate, shuffling his hand through his pocket to find his keys and some Copenhagen chew.

“I best be headin’ out,” he stated. “We got a long day at the ranch tomorrow, lots of hay bale shipments to move out.”

“Sounds good, Sir.” Wayne extended his hand out, “I’ll see y’all bright and early tomorrow mornin’.”

“See y’all then, Wayne.”

The two vigorously shook hands, with Harry delighted to see the disappearance of a certain black stamp. They waved each other off as Harry walked back to his truck. After watching his boss leave, Wayne was elated to go back to his family, with one beautiful wife and three handsome sons to entertain. Turning 29 in a matter of days (his birthday shared with Pete Sherman’s, or “Little Petey” as the town called him), Wayne had already accomplished his major goal in life, growing the Woods family. It only seemed like yesterday that he and his wife were high school sweethearts, but now they owned their own little home with three rowdy chaps running around everywhere. It was going to be Wayne’s job to teach them the right morals just like how his father taught him. Over the years, he’d teach them about Christianity, voting Red, being country men, and how to swoon ladies. But, with the oldest one only in first grade, he thought it might be best to wait a bit longer.

Inspecting the bleachers, it didn’t take Wayne long to find his family. He ran up to them and sat down immediately, ready to keep enjoying the show. He quickly explained to his wife what his boss had wanted him for, saying Harry had just wanted an update on the coming fourth child. Wayne then kissed his wife passionately before giving his attention back to the rodeo, applauding as the last participant finished off the night.

10.3 SECONDS! CHRIS ENDED THE NIGHT STRONG!

ANOTHER GREAT YEAR WITH A DARN GREAT CROWD! THANKS FOR COMIN’ OUT FOLKS, WE’LL SEE Y’ALL AGAIN NEXT YEAR!

#country #gay to stright #bottomtotop #age progression tf #nerdtojock #jock #Christian #dumber #political #lib to con

259 notes · View notes

valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year ago

Note

could you do a one shot of alicent and viserys firstborn daughter manipulating and seducing Daemon to marry her instead of rhaeyrna after laenas death because he sees her as a younger and more beautiful version of her older half-sister. like reader is a girlboss cause she got him on the greens side and she got him whipped by her beauty and all the children she is giving him.

A/N: I hope you like it! Thank you so very much!!

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

summary: alicent and viserys firstborn daughter manipulating and seducing Daemon to marry her instead of rhaeyrna after laenas death because he sees her as a younger and more beautiful version of her older half-sister. like reader is a girlboss cause she got him on the greens side and she got him whipped by her beauty and all the children she is giving him.

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: Smut, Angst, jealousy

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"Nuncle" Daemon turned around to face you, his eyes widened at the sight of you. You wore a black dress a little too revealing for a funeral but the innocent glint in your eyes showed that you did not know better. Your corset pushed your cleavage up for him to see and admire while your arms were showing.

"Niece" He nodded his head looking like he was in a daze for a second. His eyes snapped up to look at you. You forced a small tear to roll down your cheek, faking your sadness.

"I wished to give you my condolences, I may have never met Lady Laena but from what i heard she was an amazing lady, I am sure your daughters will take after her" You spoke lightly. Your hand raised slowly to rest on his upper arm to offer him some comfort. Daemon's eyes followed your movement making you feel a little scared that you were going too fast and moved to pull away but he grabbed your hand before you could.

"Thank you, niece, she was an amazing mother indeed" Daemon raised your hand placing a kiss to the back of your fingers.

"If you need anything uncle, do send for me, we are family after all" You batted your eyelashes at him. Daemon did not let go of your hand and instead kept it warmed in his own.

"I wish to walk away from this crowd, I have not had time to mourn properly, may I ask you to join me?" He asked tilting his head to the side. You had to suppress a smirk to give him the impression that he was the one to manipulate you.

"Of course" You pulled your hand from his hand to the crook of his arm instead. Daemon led you away from the noise of the people talking. You looked back as the noise grew further away to find your older sister's eyes wandering in search of Daemon not knowing that you had gotten to him first.

"I heard that you were a rogue, father mention several times that you have the characteristic of your late mother princess Alyssa, what was she like?" You asked boldly. The noise now was merely background noise but still it grew quieter the more he led you away.

"I am afraid I do not remember, I was very young when she passed" Daemon answered, turning to look at you. You faked a horrified gasp and your other hand snapped up to cover your mouth in shock.

"I apologise uncle, I did not mean to offend" You squeaked. Daemon swallowed thickly, bingo! From what you heard he liked innocent maidens, he liked to corrupt them, mould them however he liked.

"Nothing to apologise for, sweet girl" Daemon's free hand raised to touch the apple of your cheek. You averted your eyes and opted to stare at the sand below your feet.

"I should have known better than to mention another important woman in your life when you are still mourning your lady wife's passing, please forgive me" You whispered. He put pressure below your chin to get you to look at him. His eyebrows shot up in shock at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"Sweet niece" He pulled you closer in for a hug. Your wrapped your arms around his waist tightly smirking into his shirt. You pulled away to look him in the eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him by surging up smashing your lips together. He froze for a second before kissing you back. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to your body, every fibber in your body begging to feel more of him.

He sighed against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist pulling your closer to him. Your fingers wandered up his neck and into his hair messing the half pulled up hair do. His fingers fiddled with your laces not yet pulling them apart.

"Oh sweet girl" He pulled back to look at your face. You whined at the loss much to his amusement. Daemon can be cruel but not now. He leaned down to kiss you again, much fiercer this time, slipping his tongue into your mouth forcefully to play with yours.

Your fingers trailed down his neck to his tunic beginning to unbutton it and he let you. This time around he pulled the strings loosening your gown around your body.

"Nuncle" You moaned against his lips when you felt the tip of his fingers make contact with the skin of your shoulder. He slipped the dress off slowly until it was hanging off your elbows.

"How pretty" He complimented, eyes glued to your breasts barely covered by the corset. He pushed your dress the rest of the way down to the ground.

"Someone will see" You whispered. He ignored you and took off his cape to lay it on the floor before he guided you down to lay on the ground. He took off his tunic before joining you down on the sand.

"No they won't if you keep quiet, sweet girl" He responded. You gulped but did not push him away. He leaned his head down to place small kisses to your jawline. He shudder ran through your body at his touch.

One of his hands was planted on the ground to keep his weight off of you while the other one trailed down to grab at your thigh pulling it up and closer to him. You moaned as he squeezed the flesh along with his lips sucking at your neck. Your heart was hammering against your chest and your were sure he could feel it.

"Uncle" You mewled, feeling his ever growing length rub against your thigh. You reached down to his breeches to palm him over the fabric.

"Eager are we?" He teased looking up at you. You moaned when he turned back to your corset to untie the laces that were on the front for once.

"Shit" he groaned as your breasts spilled out. He moved to his knees between your legs so he can palm them with both of his hands.

"Such beautiful tits" He was in a daze like state. He dived back down mouth watering for your breasts. He kissed and sucked as if they were his last meal. Your cunt grew wetter with his each tug of his.

"Please, uncle" You begged attempting to rub your cunt against his clothed cock. Daemon growled against your flesh, one of his hands snapped down to your hip to keep you in place.

"Please fuck me, uncle" You begged, leaning down to whisper the words in his ear. Daemon let go of your tit with a pop and droll running down his chin.

"Whatever my sweet niece wants" He hands fumbled to push his breeches down just enough for his cock to spring out, proud and hard, long in length with just enough girth to make you shudder with fear if it will fit.

"Is it going to hurt?" You asked, eyes wide as you watched him move closer to you.

"Scared are you? You were begging for it only a second ago" Daemon teased. Your breath got caught in your throat when he let the tip touch your swollen clit.

"Uncle" You shivered, hands grabbing at his biceps. He furrowed at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"Shh sweet girl, it will hurt for a pinch then it will feel good, I promise" He leaned down to place a comforting kiss to your forehead. You gulped but nodded your head.

"Shhh" He shushed as he began to push in, a reminder to stay quit. One of your hands snapped up to your mouth to cover it. He was huge, he was stretching you in ways your fingers never did. You were heaving by the time half of him was inside.

"Uncle" You cried, hands snapping to his chest to either push him or stop him. He paused his movement and looked up at your face. Tears were leaking from your eyes, your lower lip in between your teeth to stop your cries, you looked amazing.

"Just a little more, sweet girl" He reassured. He leaned down to rest his forehead on yours as he pushed the rest of him in. You mewled holding on to his shoulders for some support.

"Such a good girl for me" He praised, kissing your nose. You raised your chin enough to claim his lips with yours. Daemon was not a patient man and began to move giving you barely any time to adjust to his length.

His mouth swallowed your moans and cries. The uncomfortable feeling in your gut slowly morphed into pressure, and it was so very pleasurable.

"That's it" Daemon praised when you pulled your mouth away from his moaning in pleasure. Your pulled him closer needing to feel his flesh on yours. He latched onto your skin without a second thought, not caring if he left marks behind.

You looked up at the sky letting the pleasure consume you, Daemon was experienced, he knew what he was doing. A smirk grew on your face knowing you had won, you had trapped your uncle or at least your web had began to wrap around him.

"Good girl, taking me so well" He moaned in your ear. You cried feeling your release nearing. He kissed your lips to quieten you as your pleasure rolled into you. Soon he was following behind you but he was not even close to being down with you, no he will have you until the sun began rising high in the sky again.

"Rhaella, will you help your mother" Daemon called earning the attention of the six namedays old girl. She turned to find you struggling to hold the hand of your other child, Daelyx, your three namedays old son.

"Yes papa" She skipped over to you and took her brother's hand in her own. You sighed in relief rising to stand up straight again with a hand over your growing belly.

"Thank you darling" You pushed some of her hair back. She grinned up at you happy to help.

"Lets go darling, Viserys is waiting for us" Daemon reminded. You smiled at him. He was standing to the side with your twins only one nameday old yet you were seven moons pregnant with your fifth child. Your twin daughters giggled at each other babbling in a language only they knew, Daenys and Aera.

"Yes, my love" You moved to walk along side him or more like wobble. Rhaella trailed behind you with Daelyx's hand in her own. She was whispering something to her brother you could not hear but that kept the little boy distracted as he looked around at the weird place he found himself in.

"Do you reckon he will be angry because we haven't visited in a while?" You asked in a whisper. The lords and ladies curtsied when seeing before noticing the clutch of children with you and Daemon all white haired and purple eyes. Your wedding was a quick and small affair only a moon after the beech incident when you informed your mother that you had not gotten your moon's blood. She was furious but then seeing who the father was she calmed down and allowed the wedding instead of terminating the pregnancy and sending you to old town to become a septa like she original planned.

"He will understand that we've got our hands full" Daemon grinned at you, he flexed his muscles to bounce the two girls in his arms making them squeal with delight. You smiled at the sound of their giggles.

"I hope so" Your conversation ended when you reached your father's room. The guards opened the door and to your shock Rhaenyra was there along with your mother and grandsire.

"Granny!" Rhaella let go of Daelyx to run to your mother, he huffed annoyed and attempted to race her over to your mother. Your mother grinned and crouched down to meet the two of them.

"Welcome prince Daemon, princess" Your grandsire nodded at Daemon who awkwardly nodded back. You grinned at your grandsire who smirked at you proud of your achievement. It did not go unnoticed that Daemon's clothes were of black and green and no longer of black and red.

"Uncle" Rhaenyra earned your attention when she addressed your husband. He handed you Daenys when she grew restless in his arms. She grew still knowing better than to kick your bulging stomach having been scolded for it only a fortnight prier.

"Sister, always a delight to see you" You stepped closer to her with fake joy on your face. She faked a smile letting you hug her buying your fake innocence as if you could not see her longing.

"Daenys look, it is your grandsire" You moved away from Rhaenyra to sit at your father's bedside. He huffed tiredly but half smiled at the sight of your daughter.

"Daenys? like the dreamer?" He heaved. Feeling a presence behind your turned to find Daemon with Aera in his arms and Rhaella and Daelyx by his side. In that moment you were more than sure you had won, he had ignored Rhaenyra in favour of you and your children. He placed his free hand on your shoulder to show his support. Daemon was your slave now.

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coldfanbou · 1 year ago

Text

Contract

A mysterious marriage. A lot of questions. Will they get answered? Not right now, due to Sana's seduction.

Length 1.7K

Sana x Mreader

Next Part

You were saddened by the news of your father's sudden passing. Most of the funeral planning was done without you as you traveled back home. The long flights and delays kept you for far too long. The day of the funeral came, and you're set to be seated next to a young woman you don't know. As you greet the other guests, she comes up to join you in doing so. You look her up and down, and while she is beautiful, she’s still a stranger. You ask her a question when there's a break in the guests. "Who are you?"

"Minatozaki Sana. Your father's widow. So you're his son?" She says with a satisfied smirk.

You're taken aback at Sana's claims of being your father's wife; he had always said he would never remarry. After a second, you respond, "Yes, I am. I wasn't aware he remarried."

"We got married a couple of months ago." She says before more guests arrive. Your conversation ends on that note as you continue to greet the incoming guests. You can feel her gaze on you; it rarely leaves you. When you glance to the side, you note how she doesn't look sad at your father's passing. As she returns to side eyeing you, you catch a hungry look in her eyes. You refrain from speaking another word to Sana during the rest of the day. The funeral goes on without a problem, though Sana does bring some attention as it seems no one else knew that your father had married before his death. The guests give their condolences to you as they leave. In the end, it's just you and Sana. She remained seated the entire time. It's only now that everyone is gone that she moves from that spot. She comes up behind you and whispers softly into your ear, "You're going to inherit everything your father had…including me." Your ears perk up, and a shiver runs down your spine at her words. You start to turn around, but Sana takes your hand and holds it as she leads you out.

You arrive back home for the first time in over three years. The space is much like how you remember it. Sana stands behind you and takes off your jacket, putting it on a coat rack before coming back to you and massaging your shoulders. You return to your senses for a second and ask her what she meant. "What did you mean by I'll be inheriting you?"

"It’s in the contract. You'll be inheriting me as your wife." Sana continues to massage your shoulders, "You've had such a stressful day, honey. I'll go run you a bath." Sana begins to leave the room when you put your hand on her shoulder and turn her around.

"No, hold on just a moment. This doesn't make any sense. What do you mean it's in the contract? What contract?"

Sana slowly lifts her hand and cups your cheek. "I'm sorry, Honey. I can't say anymore." Sana tries to kiss you, but you pull your head back. She giggles, "It’s nice to have a strong young man. I'll go run your bath." Sana leaves you alone as she starts the bath. The muffled sounds of running water start up. You're left wondering what kind of deal was made. You think to yourself that your father must have left something behind. You head into his study and start searching for any sort of document that would give you an inkling of what’s going on. Drawer after drawer, nothing of the sort turns up, and you leave the room before Sana can catch onto you. You enter the living room and sit down, but not a moment later, Sana walks in. She's clad in only a towel, her long smooth legs out in the open. "Come on, Honey; the bath is ready. I'll wash your back." You want to argue against her joining, but at the same time, you want to keep her in your line of sight.

"Fine." You respond. Sana hooks her arm around yours and leads you to the bathroom, where she helps strip you out of your clothes. Sana never takes her eyes off you, her hands lingering on your body as she takes each piece of clothing off you. Adjusting her towel, she looks at you before dropping it to the floor. Her modest chest, topped with light pink nubs, toned abs, and nether regions, are in full view. Sana turns and leans over, dipping a finger in the water, letting you stare at her ass before she steps into the large bath. As she settles in, she looks at you expectantly. You step into the bath and sit in front of her. Though you can't see her expression, you know she's smirking. Sana leans forward, pressing her breasts against your back. Her small nubs are hard as they rub against your back.

"Isn't this nice?" She asks. When you don't respond, Sana wraps her arms around you. "Honey, do be so quiet. There's no need to be embarrassed." You can't tell if she's playing dumb, but your train of thought is broken when you feel her hand touch your cock. You immediately become hard as her soft fingers wrap themselves around your shaft. "I'll get rid of all your stress and worries from today. You can let it all out…wherever you want." She whispers into your ear as she moves her hand up and down. You immediately moan, Sana's hand doing wonders. You feel Sana nibble on your ear as she uses her thumb to rub the head of your cock. It's a slow and smooth circular motion. You become putty in her hands as she takes complete control. Waves of pleasure course through your body, and you feel yourself quickly coming to your climax.

"Ah, fuck."

"It’s okay, Honey. I can already feel your cock twitching in my hand. Let it all out for me. Let it all out for mommy." Sana giggles for a second. "Oops, I mean your wife, but I can be your mommy in this way if you want." Sana kisses the back of your ears while she continues to jerk you off. "Just let it all out for me. Cum for me." You can't hold on much longer and cum on her hand. The bath water quickly cleans her off, though. Sana continues to stroke your shaft after you've orgasmed, slowly coming to a stop. "That felt good, didn't it?" Sana says calmly. "Cumming onto my hand might've felt nice, but somewhere else would be better. Don't you think so?" She squeezes your cock twice before feeling it stiffen again. "Ooh, it's getting hard again. Why don't we continue in the master bedroom?"

You agree with Sana and step out of the bath. At the moment, you aren't thinking straight; having fallen under Sana's spell, you follow her wishes. Water drips from your bodies as you make the walk over. Watching Sana's hips sway from side to side makes your cock stiff. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you push Sana to the side, forcing her against the wall. "Ah! Can't wait to fuck me? What a naughty boy." With your cock in hand, you rub it against her cunt while you find her entrance. Once you find it, you ram your cock inside Sana. She screams, feeling your cock split her in two with your sudden movement. Sana's hands are pressed against the wall; you put yours over them and start thrusting into the young woman's pussy. "Fuck me!" She yells, enjoying the sudden roughness. You feel Sana's lower lips stretch around your cock when you're buried inside her, her walls squeezing your cock. You can't contain your moans as you fuck Sana from behind. Her soft ass presses against you like she wanted you to go deeper inside her.

Your hands move down to Sana's waist, pulling her back as you thrust. "You like my pussy? It's all yours." Sana moans as she turns her head to the side. You hold it with one hand as you steal a kiss. Sana's tongue tries to part your lips; you let her in. Her muffled moans become high-pitched as she edges closer to her orgasm. You break the kiss as you run out of breath. Your fingers stay by Sana's mouth as you hold her head; she uses her tongue to lap at them. Hook your fingers inside her mouth, and Sana starts sucking on them as your thrusts grow wild. You feel your orgasm approach as you continue to impale Sana. She stands on the balls of her feet, her hands gripping anything they can reach for dear life as you use her. Her whines reach their apex as she cums. Sana's pussy tightens around your cock, and her nectar sprays onto the floor, joining the water that's dripped off your bodies. A few seconds later, you join Sana in absolute bliss as you fill her pussy with cum. It feels incredible; Sana's walls feel like they're milking you for everything you have. Your legs grow weak, and you fall to the floor bringing Sana with you.

She slowly turns around to face you, cupping your cheek. She shares a deep kiss with you as she places your cock back inside her. After a moment, she rests her head on your chest. You feel her grind against you, slowly making you hard again. "You've got so much energy. I think we'll be a good match." Sana rubs her belly slowly. "And I don't feel that full yet. I'm sure you have a lot more to give me, don't you?" Silently, you kiss Sana. Your hands run over her body as you start to learn it.

The next morning you wake up in the master bedroom with Sana lying on your chest, cum flowing out of her well-used cunt. In the quietness of the morning, your head is clear, and you remember what you were doing before you had sex with Sana—trying to find out more about that contract.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #twice smut #sana smut

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themotherofblood · 2 years ago

Note

Dark!Daemyra x daughter!eeader but it’s their actual biological daughter (meaning rhaenyras the mom).

Remember in episode 4 when everyone thought that rhaenyra had her virtue taken by daemon? What if they actually had a kid?

Gosh I kinda made this a little too angsty so bare with me. I’m just really bad at writing to the point, I wanted to add some context to the smut hehe. So I hereby present

Dark!Daemyra x Daughter!reader

tw: incest, infantilism, cheating…(kinda?) murder, talks of more incest babies and kinda non con-ish? jason lannister (🤢) smut! oral, missionary kinda courrpution vibes. Threesome

7.8k words

A mistake, a grave mistake.

Not you, the one that had brightened Rhaenyra’s world with your little laugh, the one that had her hair and her uncle’s charisma - but the deed done to conceive you had been the most terrible of errors.

By right, you were Rhaenyra’s first-born child and heir; however, given the time of conception and the beautiful (pale, too pale) features you had been born with, it was obvious that you were not the offspring of Laenor Velaryon, but of her brutish uncle Daemon Targaryen. What remained were the rumours of Rhaenyra and Daemon coupling at a notorious brothel on the Street of Silk. Bastardy or the Iron Throne, that remained the question of your birthright to many. Your conception was a greater source of whispers and slander than that of your brown-haired ‘Strong’ brothers.

You weren’t raised in the Red Keep; with the brunt of the court upon your muña’s shoulders, she’d hoped to keep you shielded away from the cruel gossip that surrounded you even at the mere age of five. You hadn’t even set eyes upon her for years, making do with the letters that detailed how much she missed you and a chest full of trinkets and dolls to share with the young daughters of the vassal lords sworn to Dragonstone.

Daemon Targaryen, on the other hand was truly banished after word of his murdering his first wife Rhea Royce reached his brother’s - your grandsire’s - ears. While there was no formal accusation nor trial, Viserys was simply at his wit's end with the reckless goings-on of his younger brother. He had left Westeros even before your mother had realised that the moon tea she had consumed had not worked.

Daemon found his family elsewhere. After slaying a sea lord who was promised the hand of Laena Velaryon, he married her and then fled to Pentos with her and her dragon. The word of a Targaryen bastard being born from the Crown Princess was most certainly to spread like a plague, far enough to reach your kepa’s ears. He wanted to come back the second he heard of you, but his brother denied his request. When you were shipped off to Dragonstone, he wished to fetch you - but this time, his wife refused him, not wishing to raise the love child he had with his niece.

He had begun to send letters of Valyrian poetry, old texts of Valyrian romance and many other trinkets. You had written to him the day you claimed your dragon, which happened in a hilarious accident as you had trailed through the Dragonmont to make friends with a silver dragon, a she-dragon named Silverwing. Though the letter you had written had gone without reply, you had waited for a year and then accepted the dark truth. He had other daughters and another family. By request of the King, you were raised by Septas and the handmaidens at Dragonstone.

At present, you waited by the Painted Table. While one might not have been eager at the sound of people returning from a funeral, you indeed were. Mother had spent four moons at Dragonstone, leaving the Red Keep behind for good until the time arrived for her ascension. These four months had been bliss; you were introduced to your brothers. When you had first departed, Lucerys was still a babe suckling at Rhaenyra’s breast. Now, she returned with another little babe. -Your good-father returned as well, the one knight that could have flung your body high to the skies and caught you right in time. He had engulfed you in an embrace the moment he saw you.

Then came the letter of Laena Velaryon’s passing, and the world shifted under your good-father’s feet. With respect to Laena’s memory and the illegitimacy of your station, the Queen Alicent had advised Rhaenyra to not have you come along with the family. You were accustomed to such treatment; it mattered not. Yet the news of your kepa’s return churned your belly. You had never laid eyes on the man, having seen a mere few portraits hung in the grand galleries at Dragonstone. He looked much like you when he was a babe, and yet the older he grew you imagined him to be the embodiment of the courteous knights you read of in your books.

You had worn your nicest dress, and your preparations had begun with digging through all the letters he had ever sent you, having the chefs prepare his favourite foods and procuring a fat sheep for Caraxes. The household staff all lined themselves up by the halls. It had been years since their Rogue Prince returned home. While many admired the man, others feared him. Regardless of his reputation, there had been respect for his name upon every rock on the island.

Rhaenyra had walked in first with your brothers, her face softening at seeing you looking eagerly at the grand doors. She hugged you, rubbing the side of your arms as she stood behind you. Your sisters… You weren’t sure if they would have taken it well if you called them such. They were introduced first as a knight called out their titles. They bowed first, reminding you that you were a Princess and they only ladies. Then, everything went silent - you heard the thudding of boots before your vision was clouded by the image of shoulder-length silver hair.

Daemon Targaryen stood atop the steps, hands held together in front of him. He commanded the room with just his purple eyes. Your eyes. You were so entranced by his presence you almost forgot to ask about your good-father. He approached you, a princely smile upon his lips, and you failed to keep your lady-like composure.

The first thing that came from his mouth was your name. Your name had never sounded so wondrous as it did at that very moment. He greeted you, and your voice abandoned you as you opened your mouth to return his niceties. You must have looked like a fool, mouth parted as no words came forth. Your mother’s voice snapped you from whatever had possessed you.

“The honour is mine, my Prince,” you said, bowing your head. You wanted nothing more than to call him kepa - but there was so much unsaid. It didn’t seem appropriate to you at the moment.

Another two fortnights passed, and you were still grappling with the thought that both the people that created you now sat with you as you broke fast. Your brothers again ran wild in your chambers and now, you had two little sisters - twins.

One night, your mother came to your room, looking far happier than she usually was as she sat at the edge of your bed. You put your book away on your lap, awaiting whatever it is she wanted to tell you.

“Your kepa and I are to be wed!”

You had helped dress her for the very day. Your legitimacy was now sealed with fire and blood as your parents swore their vows to the Fourteen Flames. You had hand-lit every yellow and red candle along with your siblings, being perhaps the happiest you had been in all your life. Maester Gerardys had perhaps shared your joy, having raised you in these very halls and witnessing your disappointment whenever there had been no letter from Rhaenyra nor Daemon.

Their marriage was beautiful. Both looked far deeper in love than any poet could ever profess in words. There was longing, a sense of time lost between them. Perhaps, in a way - as they looked at you after sealing their union with a kiss - you were their love made flesh and bone, their blood running through your veins. Two ears, ten fingers and toes, and eyes that flared with the same longing Rhaenyra and Daemon had so long had for one another.

Both made concerted efforts between the sheets to reclaim the years lost, and they made efforts with you, offering you the attention you deserved from them. Daemon smiled ear-to-ear as he saw you loving up against his grandmother’s former mount, an elegant creature that matched your demeanour.

Daemon had once said “the gods give, as they take away.” Those words had come to royally interrupt the quaint life he lived with his family at Dragonstone. Word was to indefinitely spread about him marrying his niece, and soon did it grace the ears of his brother - and his cunt of a Hand. A white raven, the symbol of urgency, bore the demand that the entire household of the Blacks were to present themselves at Viserys’s court. There was no indication of whether the King approved or not, but naught was to be done other than abide by his brother’s demands. Thus, the older children mounted their dragons along with Daemon and Rhaenyra and set the course for their journey to the Red Keep.

Your memories had been rather faint of these halls. You remembered walking them and all your heart felt was its cold aura. It wasn’t home. Their welcome hadn’t been warm to be sure - a wheelhouse had received you at the Dragonpit alongside your parents, Baela, Rhaena and Jacaerys. Your Septa had squeezed you into a tight corset, one that you had never worn before, your hair braided far too tight for your liking. It was how the ladies dressed at court, they had told you.

The Targaryen guards had led your family straight to the Throne Room. Crowds of people assembled on both sides and the gallery crawled with young ladies, some your age, some younger. You had slotted yourself behind your kepa’s larger frame, finding an odd urge to hide as every eye in the room seemed to have been fixated on you and every whisper called your name. You hoped you were a lady enough to satiate whatever expectations these strangers had thrust upon your shaking hands.

Viserys was furious, as furious as he could be given his condition. He wasn’t the man you remember, his full cheeks and the head of hair that you had inherited and a hand gone. He pulled himself by using his sword Blackfyre as a cane, accusing his brother - your sweet kepa - of terrible obscenities. You wanted to defend him, you truly did. You wanted to scream, lecture the court on the man Daemon Targaryen really was. Of how much he loved his family, so much so that he had abandoned you the day his late wife begged him so.

There was much said and done, most of which made the corners of your eyes water with furious tears as you reached for your mother’s hands. Everything Viserys and Otto Hightower questioned about their union directly mirrored your existence.

It was a sham. You weren’t a sham.

It was a manipulation. You weren’t a lie.

It was a crime, that much was true; you were a bastard, after all. You were Rhaenyra’s first-born, yet stood to inherit nothing. You were the shield that politically protected your brothers. This marriage put everything into question. Who were you anymore?

What you were was a perfect example and a trap for Otto Hightower to lay in the King’s lap, offering you as an auspicious match with House Lannister. Of course, the words were never to be said, but this marriage was a blessing from the gods for the likes of you. You were ambushed by the Small Council on the second day of your return to the Red Keep.

The second the name of Jason Lannister spilt through your grand-sire’s lips, Rhaenyra was outraged. Never had you witnessed her this crazed over something, her eyes dark and voice low. She matched the intimidating aura of your father, perhaps giving you a glimpse of the similarities between them.

“She is to be my heir!” Rhaenyra argued, her voice booming through the chambers. “I will not have you sell her like you tried with me, father!”

The debate had grown heated. Jason was a proud man, from what you had heard, and your mother fought on your behalf for a different right altogether. For once (in your own stupidity) you saw purpose, a purpose you viewed as your grand-sire’s affection; a sense of duty you had never felt before. After so long spending your days wandering in the world of your own head, for once you felt a woman. A false sense of naive hope. When Rhaenyra urged that they in the least listen to what you had to say, your words echoing through the chambers were the last thing she expected.

“I will do my duty if that is what the King wishes,” you nervously mumbled. “The throne would not agree with me, mother.”

That had been five years ago. You were a proud lion now, or so said the letters that you sent home every other moon. You had been a dutiful wife to Jason Lannister, to be sure. Your bastardy had been allayed by the magnificent dragon you claimed, and your womb that would finally bring the glory of possessing dragon eggs to the Lannister name. He had been a good husband to you, showering you with gold and fineries beyond your needs, a perfectly dolled-up Targaryen wife dressed in the crimsons and gold of the Lannister heritage. You wanted to enjoy it, you truly did. You had craved such attention from a young age, but something in your mind nagged that it wasn’t genuine.

You spent much of your time hidden in the library, which Lord Jason had at first said would have made your little head spin.

You had claimed victory over it in a mere year, and so you had asked for more books; if he was to spoil you so, perhaps he could provide you with something of more use. And yet, your chests continued to be filled with more jewellery, the finest dresses and boots. You would scold yourself for not finding joy in this. There were children starving in the country and you complained of fine dresses being too much.

The love-making between you was respectable, quick. It was far easier than the complicated mess your Septa had chastely told you about. You would spread your legs for him and just lay there. However, once the first year of your union passed and you still hadn’t borne a child, things grew ugly.

Jason had been dismissive at first, petting your head and claiming your youth as the impediment of your lack of conception. Then, it was the Maesters hounding you with ways to be with child. from putting your legs high in the air after being pumped full of your lord husband’s seed to avoiding wines at feasts. They recommended positions to be placed in; then, they requested that you refrain from dragon riding. Your favourite foods were targeted soon after, the spices in them after that; and soon, your meals were left with just salt in them.

That bled to the third year of your marriage. The gossip that had been abandoned because of your wedding was now set ablaze yet again. You suffered it all with a stiff lip.

The latest requirement had been for you to remain abed for most of the day, a consequence for going against your husband’s wishes and riding Silverwing after eight moons without. There was just something in her eyes that begged you to ride her, perhaps to save you from your own misery. When you returned, you had been grateful that you rode her.

The flattery that your lord husband had doted upon you with before bedding you had long faded with frustration. Couplings had always been a chore, but now it was painful as you laid there wishing for it to end. He would enter your chambers, undoing his doublet and you just knew. You would push down your small-clothes and spread your legs for him before returning to slumber alone. You had counted every petal embroidered onto your canopy as Jason grunted in your ear. You would run your fingers down his back, his hair, hoping to make him peak sooner.

One night, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to lay with him from how exhausted you had been, barely being able to eat the boiled food and enduring yet another feast that ran from dusk to dawn. You refused him politely, hoping that he would lounge with you or leave you to your endeavours alone. Instead, he lectured you on your duty, his breath stinking of strong wine as he forcefully yanked you towards your bed. You had protested, fought against his hold, but it had no effect on him. He had easily torn through your shift as he had turned you to your belly. All you remembered were the stern words of your inability to provide him with heirs when the whores down at brothels of Lannisport had already birthed bastards for him, your head shoved into the pillow to muffle your protests, and then the dread as you felt his seed from within you spill onto your sheets.

He took you in such a manner twice more, growing further irate with the judgments of his family. He was your husband - he had the right. That was, until your sheets were stained in red once more. The handmaidens and the maesters all huffed in defeat yet again, and you were sure your husband had been at a brothel for his business down at Lannisport.

So you ran.

Silverwing roared as she perched herself upon Casterly Rock, scaring the knights in their golden helms away. She flew you swiftly through the skies, heading towards the one place you felt the safest, the one place you should have returned to years before.

“Dārilaros, Silverwing ēza sepār māzigon naejot se Dragonmont,” a Dragonkeeper hastily informed Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to Daemon who was seated next to her by the Painted Table as they went over season books for the fourth moon. They wasted no time in hurrying past Aegon’s Garden to see you, their daughter, dismounting Silverwing in a red gown. They rejoiced, finally setting eyes upon their blood after five years. The second you laid eyes upon your mother, you rushed to engulf her. Daemon wrapped his arms around both his wife and you, placing a kiss atop your head.

You had returned to your bedchamber in the Sea Dragon Tower, claiming that you were overdue a visit and your duties had freed you for long enough to fly home. Neither Daemon nor Rhaenyra were daft; you had arrived devoid of any riding clothes, dressed in a heavy gown and jewellery. With no clothes nor belongings, it was obvious that something had happened, but they allowed you your space.

You were overjoyed at being able to let your hair down and wear your old gowns. You had slept that night, sprawled across your bed like a happy child, fed and tucked in.

As the days passed, you were introduced to your new siblings - not half-siblings, but ones who shared the same parentage, the same blood as you. You learned of the toddler named Aegon and a babe of one and eight moons named Viserys, and the healthy girl your mother had named Visenya. You found much joy in meeting them. They reminded you of your childhood, though you were perhaps a little envious that they would grow up in much better circumstances than you did.

Rhaenyra had found you one afternoon, humming a Valyrian lullaby to Visenya, the words of which you had forgotten years before but you had hummed to yourself at nights to remind yourself of the memory of home. You were the blood of the dragon; you were the daughter of dragons. That glint of sorrow in your eyes had told Rhaenyra all that she needed to know.

“It is a matter of heirs,” she had told Daemon as he helped her onto their marital bed. “I fear what they might have imposed on her, Daemon.”

Rhaenyra knew first-hand of Jason Lannister’s pride.

“She doesn’t look herself anymore,” Daemon agreed. While Rhaenyra dreamt of a beneficial way of helping you, Daemon had already dreamt of a far more violent one, for years beforehand.

A prideful man with a runaway bride has never been a great song. Jason had set sail himself to retrieve his wayward wife from Dragonstone, winged beast to lead back into your golden cage. His ship was filled with more trinkets and fineries to sway you and your parents to hand you back to him, a place he believed you belonged.

He presented himself at Rhaenyra’s court as she sat the throne at Dragonstone. Without an inkling of enthusiasm or warmth, she accepted her son-in-law’s presence with Daemon standing next to her, also unimpressed by the blonde fool.

“I have come to convey my sweet wife home. Casterly Rock is much too cold without her fire,” he cajoled, his voice echoing through the Chamber of the Painted Table.

Rhaenyra had sent for you the second she had greeted your husband in the chambers. You arrived but moments later, your cheeks filled with colour from devouring your lunch of roast goose. Your feet abruptly halted the moment you saw the hair yellowish-blonde hair, knowing it could mean only one thing. Rhaenyra’s eyes caught yours first, and then your husband turned to find you in what he would deem a distasteful gown.

You hiked your skirts and bolted down the other corridor, paying no mind to the rain pouring heavily outside and running through Aegon’s Garden. Silverwing had already perched herself atop the Dragonmont as she had felt your distress. Her roar echoed with the thundering in the clouds above. Daemon chased after you, his quick feet catching up to yours with ease.The household guard blocked your path from exiting through the gates of Dragonstone.

“No, no! Please!” you wailed as Daemon caught onto your hands. “I cannot go back! Please, don’t send me back!”

Daemon’s eyes flared in concern over your distraught face. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you only screamed louder over the heavy pattering of rain.

“I will throw myself off the Windwrym Tower if you send me with him! Please, please, do not make me go back,” you cried. Your kepa pulled you closer, shushing your pained sobs as you begged harder.

Daemon had managed to reassure you that no one would force you back to Casterly Rock unless you wished it so. He had been horrified at how miserable you must be to threaten your own life in order to remain at Dragonstone, and his blood boiled to learn the truth of the matter. Rhaenyra had the servants prepare a room for your lord husband in an entirely different tower. You felt secure in knowing that Jason wouldn’t be allowed in the Sea Dragon Tower since it housed your chambers as well as your parents' chambers a floor above.

This is where you were brought after your handmaidens had helped you out of your soaking wet gown, huddled by the hearth crackling with a freshly stoked fire, a blanket of soft furs and a cup of warm tea in your hands. While you chose to sit on the floor, Daemon sat on his armchair, hoping to make you speak. Your wet hair clung to the sides of your face, a face that was once filled with so much light. Now, it hid something from him, and he couldn’t bear it.

“If you won’t tell me what happened, I cannot protect you,” he urged, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What has happened, zaldrītsosi?”

You shook your head once more, making Daemon groan in frustration. You played with the rim of the tea cup, circling your finger around it, over and over again. You felt your father’s frustrations, gods know you had endured it yourself for years. In truth you were embarrassed of your inability to be a good wife, perhaps the harshness your lord husband had showed you- you deserved it.

The chamber door opened once more with Rhaenyra finally making her way to you, while Daemon felt clueless about what caused your outburst. Rhaenyra had her suspicions, she shuffled her skirts to lower herself next to you, she didn’t ask a thing but just wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Letting you know that you were taken care of, that you were home. Whatever tactic was this, it worked as the first words of your confession echoed through the chambers.

“I cannot go back,” you said, “He deserves to find another wife.”

You had tried to be the loveable wife your mother had been to both her husbands. She bore three sons for the first and three more children for your kepa, within the matter of five years when you couldn’t even conceive one.

“He is lucky to have a wife like you,” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to your temple.

You shook your head again “I’m not so…perfect like you.”

Rhaenyra frowned, never once had she wanted you to feel this inferior but your insecurities had been radiating through your skin. Daemon remained silent, letting his wife coax your reasoning out of you, perhaps you would do it quicker so he could fetch Dark Sister and resolve the matter.

“Lord Jason is my husband, he has a right to be sure,” you whispered, nuzzling further into Muña's embrace. “The way he held me down, for refusing to lay with him…” your voice trailed “I n-never want to feel that, ever again.”

Daemon saw red, even more so for the reason that you had not a clue of what had happened to you. A crime he had dismembered many during his days as the commander of the gold cloaks, his wife’s eyes shot to him. Silently begging him to not act on his anger just yet, he agreed - you needed them more. Your cries were silent, calmer than the onslaught before, Daemon let your head as you whimpered in your mother’s arms.

Somewhere along the evening you had succumbed to your exhaustion, Daemon had carried you into their bed and tucked you in. The silence left Rhaenyra and Daemon with a grave decision, they would have to petition Viserys to have your marriage annulled, however to lay the history of what you had suffered bare in court. The plea had to come from you, Rhaenyra had shuffled under the furs that night, her warm fingers trying to soothe the frown you sported even in you sleep. Daemon hummed that familiar lullaby as you stirred, feeling their bodies mould to yours - only this time you remembered the words.

Come morning, Rhaenyra had sent for Jason Lannister early in the morning; she had left her lady in waiting - Elinda Massey - to watch after you as you slept sprawled across their bed. In very distasteful words, Rhaenyra shunned your husband, Daemon stood beside her with his hand eagerly gripped around the pompel of Dark Sister. He paced back and forth, internally begging his wife to let him have the Lannister cunt’s head.

When you awoke, Elinda had helped you prepare yourself for the day. Your shoulders felt lighter, like a burden lifted from your shoulders. A content smile had finally adorned your face as you lounged in your parents chambers (far too elated). Rhaenyra returned from court with Daemon at her heel, trying to walk away the burning rage within her before she greeted you. She had sat you down, telling you of how Jason had returned to Casterly Rock and that the Blacks were to petition the royal court once more to have your marriage annulled. You threw your arms around Rhaenyra, profusely thanking her as she petted your hair.

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered over your face for a little longer, the fullness of your cheeks, the purple of your eyes; gave her glimpses of herself and Daemon. There was something that overcame her, a subject Daemon and Rhaenyra had spoken at length about - first after their wedding night and second was last night. Her thumbs stroked your cheeks before her rosy lips found yours, it wasn’t a chaste kiss and yet the feeling that churned in you belly. You had yearned to feel it through the five torturous years of your marriage, when she pulled away you were stunned. Eyes glossed and mind in shambles.

“You are the glorious thing that came from us, sweet girl,” she whispered “you are to remain with us now, forever.”

She had pulled you up to stand in between your kepa and her, he was silently observing your reactions. You felt entrapped, not in the malicious way you had been caged in your marital bed, but the tenderness they had for you anchored you down, engulfing you in warmth. Daemon turned to hold your face in his hands, his roughed digits stroking at your heated blush stained cheeks.

“Let us take you the way you were meant to, let us show you riñītsos,” he requested. What were you to do? Pull away from the affection you were being dotted with after beggin for it for years. You nodded, mumbling a meek yes.

Rhaenyra turned you towards her again, both kepa and her working with haste to strip your body off your gown, leaving trails of sweet kisses upon your pale skin. The back of your neck to the pulsing at your wrists, they showed you reasons to live; showed reasons of why you were the most precious thing in the Known world. The smell from Rhaenyra’s flowered soaps mixed with Daemon’s woody ones, encasing you between their larger frames. You perked breasts spilt free first, your mother’s warm mouth immediately trapped the pebble between her lips. Suckling to harden them, and leave bruises of passion apon your milky skin. Daemon joined her efforts, his lips claiming your neck as he held you hand.

You couldn’t breathe, one would find lust, passion or even contentment within the feel of their lips but a deeper pit bubbles in your stomach. When you blinked your eyes open, they welled in tears and your breath hitched. Fighting to take in a bigger gasp of air, the years went on and you truly felt as beastly as they saw Silverwing. One incapable being found desirable, that your husband would resort to pumping bastards into tavern whores. You face scrunched, scolding yourself to enjoy this and yet you didn’t want them to see you bare; perhaps they would hate you too.

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened the moment she saw your discomfort and kissed your cheek. Hoping you would confess your feelings without coaxing.

“I won’t be to your liking,” you hung your head low, more tears streamed down your face.

“Nonsen - you are the most beautiful girl in the Known world,” Rhaenyra reassured, lifting your face to look at her. Perhaps it was something in her eyes that made you want to believe her flattery.

“How can you know?” You sniffed, wiping the tears with your wrists.

“We made you, who else would know better?” Daemon said, his voice softer than usual as looked down at you.

Mother had been incapable of bedding Daemon since birthing Visenya two moons ago, she was still healing. They believed that it was your husband’s incapacity to impregnate you; all your life at Dragonstone your moonblood’s course had been near perfect. It was to their benefit, your womb deserved to carry pure Valyrian babes anyhow. A witted mind may even see this as an advantage, with you as Rhaenyra’s heir. The silver of your hair, the smile that matched Daemon’s and little Valyrian babes of your own. Your mother’s claim would remain untouchable.

Daemon had led you to their bed, perhaps now your own. Rhaenyra had stripped herself to just her corset and chemise, while she intended on assisting her husband she would be a fool to not find pleasure in Daemon bedding you. Your father had been displeased as you crawled into bed and spread your legs open for him. While he admired the gesture of you presenting yourself to him, he tutted at how bereft of pleasures you were.

“Fucking is a pleasure you see, for the man and woman,” he had sultry eyes set upon you as he devices of ways to have you screaming for him.

Your legs already remained parted for him as you held your inner thighs, you were expecting his cock to penetrate you and yet he was fully clothed. It was horror that filled you next as Daemon kneeled by the edge of the bed, his fingers gently stroked the sides for your mound before he flattened his tongue on your slit.

“K-kepa what are you d-,” a whine tore through your lips as you felt his lips suckling at your sensitive flesh. Daemon feasted on your cunny, like a delicacy with exotic flavours plated just for him. You muña had skittles herself next you, bracketing a leg to hold your thigh open as she paid much needed attention to your nipples. Her fingers toyed with one as her mouth nibbled on the other.

The throes of coupling were all you’d known awhile you dutifully suffered in the sheets, this - this - was tenacious; never ending as it hurtled you further into its depravity. The sounds of your squelching cunt and Daemon humming against your folds as Rhaenyra whispered the sweetest of endearments in your ears, their little girl…made just for them to ruin.

Daemon locked his palm against your, tangling your fingers between in him a silent call of, he was here for you, he would take care of you. Rhaenyra caressed your flushed face, the tickle of delicate fingertips distracted you from your insecurities. Your cunny felt the stretch of your Kepa's fingers, his thick digit knuckle deep within you. You hadn’t realised your body could even feel this way, so weightless that all you felt was the throbbing around your puffy bud. The textures on his tongue fondling with the tender flesh, how soft his actions were along with your mother’s ministrations of keeping the rest of your bare body ablaze.

You found your voice, as your breathy mewls turned to a shameless moans because of Daemon’s finger gracing a foreign spot within you; pumping in and out repeatedly. Your hips hiked off the bed, grinding into your kepa’s mouth. He gently held your hip down, you arched you back, unable to decipher the waves of tingles that ran up your thighs.

“Please, please!” you begged, unsure of it as you pleaded for, all you body seemed to yell at you was to find the ending.

A sudden, furious bliss burst through your core; you hadn’t felt anything like it before. You screamed their name, praying to the Gods to save you. You felt his tongue still laying soft licks on your bed as your thighs clenched around his head. You fell flat back against the beds, heavy breathing as you tried to gather your bearings.

“Wh- what…?” You couldn’t finish the question clouding your mind, your words lost on your lips.

“That sweet girl…was your peak,” Rhaenyra gingerly placed a kiss upon your temple. Her fingers mindlessly trailed up and down the valley of her breasts.

My peak…my peak you had incoherently whispered under your breath. “Will you bed me now?” You looked at your father expectantly.

“Would you like me too… would you like kepa to pump you full of his seed?” He whispered against your folded thighs as he pressed wet kisses across your pale flesh.

Your head eagerly nodded, wanting to feel more of what the art of pleasures had to offer. You wanted this ecstasy that Daemon spoke off. You wanted to drown yourself in it, having someone touch you so brutally broke a part of your aura - tragically - but your kepa and muña sewed your pieces back together. A cascading light that hurtled towards misery now floated high above the clouds, happy as you should have been.

“Say it riñītsos,” Rhaenyra whispered against your lips.

“Please bed me, kepa,” you asked, eyes flaring purple as did theirs. You shuffled against his hold on your thighs, the skin w clawing at your insides.

Daemon looked at Rhaenyra and chuckled, shaking his head at your niceties. “Such a polite thing, our daughter.” Rhaenyra indulged in stripping her husband for you, peeling his doubly away from him before freeing him from his breeches. Your kepa’s member was far more monstrous than your lord husband’s, it spurred a fear under your chest; the memories of bedding and the last night you had shared Jason’s bed were fresh within your mind. Daemon caught onto the apprehension that flared in the purple of your eyes. He pressed a kiss to your knee. “M’ going to be gentle…unless you ask me not to be,”

You hadn’t understood what he meant but your heart eased, preparing yourself to feel the bitter stretch of his bulbous tip at your entrance. Braced in position you waited for the burn to flare through your nethers but it never came. Merely the pressure of the hard line pushing you open, a little uncomfortable at best but the pain you had expected was nowhere to be found. You blinked your eyes upon, pulling yourself to grace upon where yours and Daemon’s body connected. You hissed at the fullness but appeared shocked, you looked to him; his eyes softened at the state of your discovery. Coupling was never meant to be a chore.

Rhaenyra circled her fingers upon your yearning pearl, you greedily raised your head pleading for her to kiss you and so she did. Her rounded mouth moulded against yours, a kiss that once rose bile to your throat - the tongues being far too much - your kittenish hum invited her in willingly. You could taste your shared breath, commanding you with the grape scent of her lips. Daemon had begun rocking himself, determined strokes rutting into your - his sweet cunny - his baby’s warm walls as he could barely contain himself from watching your mother dote upon you with honeyed vulgarity.

Daemon grunted, wanting to feel the touch of your lips as he tucked his hands behind the small of your back. You held your kepa’s face in your hands, lifting yourself just enough to taste the spiced wine that linger on his lips; his tongue raspily greeted yours. You mewled into his mouth, legs wrapping around his rear as your Rhaenyra and Daemon took turns whispering sweet obscenities in your ear. They made this cunny for them to use… kepa would breed you swollen of his Valyrian babes, pure babes. There perfect little dragon

Naught was of importance as you begged kepa to piston within you harder, you body smothered between the ones of your blood (warm, far too warm). Trickles of tears that fell from the corners of your eyes disappear in your hairline, Daemon wiped them - grunting louder - with his adoration directed straight st you. Rhaenyra had pulled him closer for a kiss, tasting you upon his lip as his hammering never once faltered. You wanted to peak again, you wanted to fly again.

“K-kepa, I- so good,” your words muddled at the tip of your tongue, but the way your cunt fluttered around his cock. There was just one reason to be sure. He looked to Rhaenyra, a short nod of his followed with your muña fingers working in tighter - quicker - circles around your throbbing nub.

“Oh - that’s it, pretty girl, come for kepa…wet his cock,” Rhaenyra cooed at you, your back arched off the bed. A longing whine tore through your lip, pleading Daemon to go harder. He obliged, haunching his body over as his shoulders laid flush against your chest. His heavy stones slapping against your rear. You wanted it, your insides clawed at you to peak.

“Our sweet little dragon, come - come now.”

Daemon’s order hadn’t gone unheard, in true fashion of a father’s daughter you peaked for him, your pleasures gushing through you core as your scream lodged itself at the back of your throat. Leaving only whimpers and squeaks behind as your finger nails dug into Daemon’s shoulder.

Days had passed since, once you had tasted the world of pleasures, the next four day you had spent either bouncing on your kepa’s cock; begging him to fill your cunt or muña fingers pulling peak after peak from your body.

The moment of truth arrived sooner that you had expected, you had flown to court once more. Viserys had been gravely ill, as a mourning grandchild your heart ached for what had become of the once proud king. As a wronged wife, you feared if Otto Hightower would have your best intentions in sight. Whil by marriage it would have been appropriate for you to wear an alarmingly bright red gown and jewellery of gold. You had come dressed in the darker crimsons of your house as you stood in between your kepa and muña.

Jason Lannister presented an elaborate case, claiming you as his - how your place was at Casterly Rock and not behind your mother’s skirts. He even made attempts to approach you, but the deathly glare Daemon had set upon your husband made Jason’s cowardice known. The Blacks and Greens had separated them on each end, and by the passing day it had become rather evident that if you returned with Jason, your support of your mother would be squandered under their golden foot.

Otto Hightower then called the Blacks forwards as he sat upon the Targaryen throne as if it were his own. Rhaenyra stepped forward to petition on your behalf but was dismissed by her old bitter companion Alicent Hightower - the Queen.

“Your daughter is far above her age to petition for herself, Princess Rhaenyra, unless she is daft…?” Alicent retorted.

Your eyes darted between your mother and father as they looked to your covering frame, they wanted to protest but what other choice had they given you. With cautious mannerisms you stepped forward, cultivating your sentences of beggary in your head to not stumble upon them. Your fingers fiddled with one another as you stood at the front of the throne room; with the entire court gathered to see your humiliation. Much of everything had sounded muffled to you, they would send you back, he would take you back. You should have flung yourself the first chance you had.

The night before, Rhaenyra had visited her father’s chambers. Maternal tears coating her face as she begged her father for you life. Daemon had told her of your threat to end your existence. What she thought were pleadings fallen to deaf ears, she had hoped to use her inheritance to save you from this curse or have Daemon flee with you to Essos. To remain there until Rhaenyra would take the throne.

Perhaps a call from the heavens answered your pleas (Rhaenyra’s efforts in truth) the grand door to the Throne Room opened, your grand-sire limping his way through a startled court. An old dragon lashing out to protect his blood once more, you moved away. Mouth agape just as the rest, Viserys had come to sit on his throne after four years of sabbatical.

To shield your honour, as your father - Daemon approached his brother to present your case in private. Telling him of the cruelties you had suffered and Jason’s inability to provide you heirs. To which Viserys coughed out his disdain on the Lannister’s lack of providing his granddaughter with heirs.

“Her heir? Tis my family that would be shamed because she is barren. Yet I choose to take my sweet wife back to my noble seat.” Jason scoffed, looking at Rhaenyra like she was delusional.

Rhaenyra passed a knowing look to Daemon before letting go of your hand. She looked right at the vast lords gathered at the court “My first born, my daughter is to be my heir. Your future Queen and a second wife to my prince consort.”

Horrid gasps echoed through the Throne Room, Alicent looked disgusted along with her father. You looked at your mother in shock, unable to grapple the titles she had just placed in your lap.

“Your grace! This is an abomination!” Otto Hightower protested, hoping for the King to see reason.

“She cannot be Queen…” Jason muttered, just as shocked as you.

“And w- why is that?” Viserys coughed.

“Well she is…” his blond brows furrowed tightly, his glare fixated upon you for embarrassing him. Your father raised a challenging brow to him, say it…say it Daemon prayed as he once again clutched the pommel of Dark Sister, he looked to his wife and begged like a toddler to let him end this. Rhaenyra looked at Daemon through his periphery and agreed, subtly nodding at him.

“She is a bastard,” he shrugged, looking appalled, finding this entire situation ridiculous.

Viserys groaned, huffing as he unsheathed his dagger; angered and ready to place his judgement. “I will have your tongue for that!”

Thwack!

You hadn’t realised when your kepa had moved from behind you to trail behind your husband - headless husband - your mother yanked back to look away from the decapitated corpse as knights all around charged at Daemon. He merely wiped his sword away at his cape, before returning to stand next to you.

“You’re a widow now,” he smugly whispered in your ear.

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ellijg · 4 months ago

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I need you now more than ever (Aegon x Reader)

Aegon comforts his wife after b&c

Requested by: I can’t remember who it was I’m sorry😩

This is my first time writing fan fiction so please don’t be too harsh I’m aware I’m not the best. This is only a short something! <3

The news of the death of the king’s son spread through the walls of the red keep. An eerie silence was now present as such a loss caused even the kings guard to mourn. An emergency council meeting was called by the King himself. Aegon sat at his place at the table, his head in his shaking hands as he still tried to process the loss of his little boy. He felt more pain than ever before. Pain over losing his heir. Pain over the fact that the blacks had now won one over on him. But he felt the most pain for his wife. She wailed and screamed at the news of her son’s murder. She had never been close to her father anyways but now she held nothing but hate for him and his wife. To take away her son was to take away a big part of her. Her own father had crushed her whole heart in his hands and Aegon was determined to get his revenge, for no one hurts his girl and gets to live.

“Your grace, I know you are at a loss for words as of now but I truly do believe a funeral for the boy will win the people over to our side once they see the work of Rhaenyra” Otto spoke out, breaking the silence in the room. He felt sympathy for his grandson but they had a chance to make something good out of a bad situation and he was determined to see it through. For the first time since the council meeting began, Aegon lifted his head from his hands. His eyes were blood shot red and filled with tears that were yet to spill over as they narrowed at the sound of his grandfathers words. A sneer slowly formed on the kings face as he leaned forward slightly on the table to lock eyes with the hand.

“I have just lost my son” Aegon spat through his teeth, “and you want to parade him around the streets as one of your weapons in this war” . Otto sighed, knowing it was going to be hard to persuade his grandson that this his idea was to benefit everyone. “I know my king, but this is our one chance we have to show the people how cruel Rhaenyra can be. Let them see the boy for themselves and I promise you, they will denounce her and come to your side”, the hand was almost begging the king to see how he was right. Aegon’s silence made everyone in the room anxious, his actions unpredictable as they waited to hear his decision. He said nothing, only a subtle nod from him was the answer he gave his grandfather as he swiftly rose from his chair and rushed out of the room. His mind was preoccupied elsewhere as he knew where he needed to be right now.

He made his way up the flights of stairs, his two guards rushing to keep up behind him and he paced through the corridors in haste. He reached his chambers as he signalled with his hand for the guards to wait at his door, not bothering to give them a second glance as he entered and shut the door swiftly behind him. His eyes scanned the room, searching for a sign of life. The room was lit by only a few candles here and there, he squinted slightly to make out his wives small frame curled up in an armchair next to the fireplace, where a fire was currently brewing. His heart shattered at the sight of his girl and how broken she looked. He wished nothing but to be able to take her pain away but the only thing that would achieve that is to bring their son back. Aegon was not a god, he could not do that. He’d comfort her in his own way.

He hesitated slightly as he made his way to sit in the armchair opposite her as he caught sight of her face. It was a reflection of his, a reflection of the same pain he shared with her. He frowned slightly in sympathy as he reached out and gently placed his hand on her knee, “my wife, I promise you everything will be okay. I will not see this crime go unpunished, I swear it to you” he whispered, tilting his head slightly to be able to make out her face under the candle light. She turned her head slightly to face him, her eyes now locking with his as his heart shattered even more than before. He almost looked away, not being able to face the pain that lingered in her eyes.

Those beautiful eyes, the eyes that made him so infatuated with her since they were children. His son was lucky enough to inherit them from her, but now those same eyes of his child’s were closed forever. And it was in that moment, when her eyes connected with his, that he swore to himself that he would not lose her too. He could not bear the thought of her eyes closing forever and never being able to get lost in them again. “I am afraid Aegon” she whispered out, fresh tears forming in her eyes as her gaze remained on her husband. “Shh I know, but you don’t have to be afraid. I am here, and I would rather die than let anything happen to you” he spoke with a gentle tone as he swooped her up into his arms and sat back in the armchair, holding her close to him on his lap. He let her rest her head on his chest and bury her face in the crook of his neck as he rubbed soothing circles on her hip with one hand and played with strands of her hair with the other.

He kissed her forehead and rested his chin on her head as he stared into the flames of the fire. Feeling a mix of pain and anger, his nostrils flared at the thought of the possibility of the blacks celebrating the death of his son. He tightened his grip on his wife slightly, as if she would slip away at any minute. He felt a hand on his chest as he looked down at her form, his eyes connecting with hers as they gazed up at him, she didn’t need to say anything for him to know what she was trying to tell him. To do what he needed to do, no matter the violence. As much as she hated it, she was the daughter of Daemon Targaryen, she inherited his level of recklessness which dangerously, her husband had a similar trait.

“I want them all dead. Every. Single. One” she demanded, her eyes now filled with a fire that Aegon was all too familiar with. He knew she craved revenge and she knew he craved it too. He brung his hand up to rest on her cheek as he bent down slightly to place his lips on hers. The kiss was deep, it was silent promise to each other that their son’s murder would not be forgotten. He pulled back slightly, his forehead connected with hers, “I swear on your life and Jaehaera’s, I will have them all on their knees infront of Sunfyre as the last thing they will see is the flames leave his mouth as he turns them all to ash”, there was a certain power and promise in his tone. A power that would make most people nervous, but it only made his wife smile. A knowing smile. She knew his words were not lies, and she’d do anything to help him turn those words into a reality.

“I love you Aegon” she spoke with a slight whisper, smiling up at him. Her eyes still swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. He smiled down at her, a loving smile as he held her close to him. “I love you the most my love” he replied, letting her rest her head back on his chest and close her eyes as his chin returned to gently rest on the top of her head.

“ Let’s go to bed, maybe we’ll see Jaehaerys in our dreams” he whispered against her hair, before picking her up in his arms and carrying her over to bed where they curled up together and let themselves drift off. Feeling safe in one another’s arms.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon season 2 #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #I’m sorry this is so bad #be nice #or i’ll cry #and sue you #love you all

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writers-hes · 1 year ago

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Eye of the Storm

SERIES SUMMARY: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps)

Chapter summary: Everything unfolds and you were the eye of the storm.

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

PROTECTION SERIES TAGLIST | PROTECTION MASTERLIST navigation

LONDON, 1919

Something clicked in Simon after Johnny’s funeral. He restricted you more than he did before. He was more forceful sometimes. You knew, because you braced yourself to face it everyday. 1…2…3…4…5… You had to count to ten every time he got mad. How many seconds will it take for him to lay his hand on you again?

“From now on, you can’t come to the garden without asking for my permission.” When he saw your mouth open to protest, he added, “Don’t push it. You’re lucky I’m still allowing you to go.”

“O-of course, Simon,” you tearfully obliged. “I— “

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

“Good. Now, come here, darling. You know I can’t stand when you’re mad at me,” he coos and you oblige, finding yourself perched on his lap. You hated this; hated how he was treating you. Hated how his arms immediately wrapped around you. “I know that you’re mad at me,” he starts. “Especially with everything that’s been going on but I’m only worried that Tommy Shelby’s gonna take you.”

“He’s not…you don’t have to worry about him, Simon,” you whispered. “I didn’t know that he was alive,”

“I know, I know,” he said. “But do you know where that puts me? You’ve been his friend since before the war and I’m not anything like him. It’s not you I don’t trust…it’s him. He’s a Birmingham rat with no respect. I want you safe. I want you here. If you behave yourself, then I’d slowly give you everything back. Hm?” he asked.

You nodded, the small smile on your face could never convey how cold you felt.

Simon knows that what he’s doing is wrong but what else can be done? Tommy Shelby was back and there was no way he’s giving you up to some Birmingham gangster. It was just impossible to do so. It would hurt him and his ego. He’s never been declined of something before as an only child of two rich parents. If he’d be declined of your love and affection, he will burn the world and everything in it. You were the only thing he truly wanted and if it came to you, he’d do everything to never let you out of his grasp.

When he first seeked you out, you were eighteen. He was already enamoured, watching you from afar. You laughed with the girls and stayed with Big Johnny most nights. You were innocent, a fragile little thing that he wanted—needed. You listened to him and even treated him as a friend. It was different from how the girls treated him there. The girls would ask for gifts, and he bought them but you…you dressed up immediately after every visit. You’d smile at him before leaving, going to Johnny for your nightly lessons. He sometimes went to visit you just to talk. You were the most intelligent girl there and he always looked forward to seeing you again. If you slip away from his grasp, he wouldn’t know what to do. It’s why he bought you that house; why he gave you jewellery even before you were married. He wanted you to be reminded of him everywhere you went. It was dangerous dealing with your past—he knew that; but danger was something he’d walk on if it came to having you.

“Darling, I was thinking…it’s been a while since we last went on a holiday. Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked. Reports of Tommy Shelby in London reached him. There was no way he’d let you meet again.

“Hm,” you hummed. “Can we go to New York?” you asked. “I’ve been wanting to go to Manhattan this time of year.”

“Yeah?” he asked. The farther you were from Tommy, the better. “Then, I’ll have things arranged and I’ll let you know, okay?” he kisses your temple as he passes by.

“Of course,” you replied. Your face seems so unreadable these days, but it always was. Can Tommy Shelby decipher the emotions written on your face or does he have to guess too? He knows that you were still keeping things away from him…knows that you’re not being fully honest with how you feel and who Tommy Shelby was in your life. He was fine not knowing as long as you were his.

Irrevocably and utterly his.

BIRMINGHAM, 1910

“You know, Tommy,” you said. “When I was young, my mother told me that there were other lands outside England…outside Birmingham that isn’t London,” you said. Your savings could take you to London, but you could never seem to find the time. Simon has been visiting you more and the owner of the brothel ordered you to always be available for him because of how much he spends on you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I want to go to London at least once. Before I die, I want to go to London,”

“I’ll take you to London,” he says, voice gruff from the cigarettes. “I’ll take you to London and I’ll take you to the whole world,”

“You will?” you asked. You were always told by your customers that they’ll take you here and there…but with Tommy, you knew that what he was saying was true. He never liked to break his promises. “If you’ll take me there, I better save up money because there’s no way I’m letting you spend a fortune on me.��

“I’ll take you to New York, Paris, and all the major cities. We’ll see them for the first time together,” he promises.

“Together?”

“We’ll always be together, won’t we?”

“Of course, we will. Together,”

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

Grace has long been gone since Polly revealed the truth to her. Was it mad that Tommy didn’t feel any morsel of anything? He didn’t care if she betrayed him; didn’t care if she loved him…if anything, she was better off gone. It just…unsettled him. Was that the right word? He never liked Grace, but she was a good enough replacement for you in the meantime. She was good enough, but she wasn’t you, no matter how much Tommy forced himself to convince everyone that she was good enough.

He didn’t even think of lighting a cigarette for her departure. These guns, Billy Kimber…his ambitions of wealth, power, and control were too consuming for him to think of anything else. Too consuming that he knew that all ambition all boiled down to you, that mansion, horses, and a garden. He looks at the toy horses you’ve given him as children. It’s been showing signs of wear; time has the power to tear the edges of something precious so easily. Tommy liked thumbing the wooden toy to keep him afloat sometimes. It reminded him of peace, of home, of you.

“Tommy,” Polly called. Her conscience has been nagging her, steaming out of pores ever since Tommy showed her how much you meant to him. It was never easy remembering Tommy on the floor, so weak; so defeated. It was never easy to remember that she was the reason why Tommy was miserable. She took you away from him. She decided then, that she’d do everything in her power to help her grieving nephew. If your presence could show her any semblance of Tommy before the war, she’d take it. Maybe she should feel bad for burdening you with that weight on your shoulders, but she knew that you did it so naturally…so genuinely. She relieves herself of thinking that you and Tommy needed each other; so much so that the world she knows now will simply reintegrate. You were the glue that binds Tommy; the melted gold that holds the pieces back together. Without you, Tommy was broken—alone. She’d never want that for him. She’ll never want to see him like that again.

NEW YORK, 1920

When you told Simon that you wanted to go to New York, you didn’t know that you’ll be staying there indefinitely. You just said that to appease him, really. He made sure that all of your belongings were kept and taken to America. What didn’t fit, you’d buy. He was more lenient here. He’d let you go, and he was back to the Simon you’ve always known.

“You’ve been married for years,” his attorney’s wife recalls. “Where are the little Simons running around?”

“Oh-“ you looked at Simon to help you out, but he was too engrossed in his conversation with the lawyer to notice. “We’re still enjoying our marriage. Just the two of us,” you lied. “We like to travel and we’ll feel bad if we just…leave the child back home,”

“But you’re in New York,” she says, like it mattered. “Surely, you’ve been trying?”

“No, not really. Simon wants our child to be born in England.” you said.

“You’re not getting any younger, dear,” she says. “When I was around your age, I already had two children. I say, it’s better to start a family early,”

That night, when you were removing your jewellery, Simon laid his hand on your shoulder. He’s gentle in New York. Your shoulder used to feel heavy in London. He started kissing your neck and you allowed him.

“An heir wouldn’t be so bad,” he rasps, nibbling on your ear. “Maybe soon…I want to have you all to myself first. Don’t want you to love me any less because of a child,”

“I wouldn’t love you any less, Simon.” you smiled at him. You didn’t want to bear his heir but if he was convinced that you’ll love him less because of a child, you’ll string him along.

“I know but then, you’d dote on him and be all…” he drones on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s alright, I don’t need anyone else. It can just be the two of us forever.”

BIRMINGHAM, 1911

“Tommy!” you called, walking through the muddy soil of the stables that he worked in. He took care of horses sometimes, to earn some extra money. It paid well and he was surrounded with the calmness of the horses that he took care of. He vowed to have his own stables filled with his own horses in the future. Maybe it was pathetic but Tommy was envious seeing things that he wanted being taken advantage of. He knew how to take care of horses but he never owned them. His dreams were so close yet so far. He was brushing the coat of one of the horses when you came barrelling towards him.

“Tommy!” you called again. “I’m free now. Let’s go!”

“Wait, wait,” he laughs, making sure that the horse—he secretly named him Hayday because the horse had a coat in the color of hay. He only told you that though. “Alright, Hayday. Let’s get you back to your stable,” he tells the horse, petting its snout. You smiled at his softness, following them quietly. You let Tommy do his job maintaining Hayday for a while, smiling widely when you saw him coming towards you. He was rubbing his face with water to get rid of today.

“I smell.” he frowned, looking through his ragged satchel for a towel or an extra shirt. “Let me just…” he says, taking the shirt from the bag and then giving the bag to you. He turns around to remove his dirty shirt, tucking it between his legs and then changing into the cleaner shirt. You watched the way his back muscles flexed—working as a mechanic and carrying whatever he does was paying off. The clean shirt clung onto his figure nicely…you looked away before he could catch you staring though. “Thanks for keeping my bag,” he says, taking his bag from you. He hangs it on his shoulder and then links his arm with yours. You couldn't see the smirk that played in his lips. “Where are we going again?”

“Remember, I told you to come with me to the market to buy something?” you asked him. He nods, letting you lead the way to the market. “Well, I’m free now. Let’s go.”

Tommy tells you all about his day on the way to the market, not knowing anything of what you had planned. It was his birthday last month, but you weren’t able to save up enough money for his gift because of a repair in your home. You drag him all the way to where the more expensive shops were, Tommy’s brows furrowing.

“Here,” you said, stopping at a jeweller. You take him inside and he lets you.

“What are we doing here— “

“Look!” you said, pointing at the gold signet ring on display. You leave Tommy to go get the clerk. You’ve been paying for the ring for a year now; little by little until you were able to fully pay for it. It was a gift for Tommy’s 21st birthday. You were talking to the clerk for a pick up when Tommy walks to you. The clerk gives you the red velvet box and you turn to Tommy, a wide smile on your face.

“Who is this for?” he asked, frowning. Was this for that Rich Bastard? “You know I can’t afford that,”

“But I can. It’s for you,” you told him softly. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry it was a month late,” You open the box for him. “Go on, wear it.”

“Y/N…love,”

“You have to accept it. I saved up for that, you know?” He takes the ring from the box and slides it on his ring finger.

“Thank you…” he rasps, his throat closing up. “For this.”

“It’s okay, Tommy. I’d give you the world if I can but for now, a ring would suffice, don’t you think?”

You both settled at an empty grassland by the docks afterwards. Tommy couldn’t stop looking at his ring.

“I still can’t believe you got me a ring,” he says, looking at you. “It must have cost you a fortune, eh?”

“It’s okay, Tommy. I want to give you something more for being a great friend to me.” you tell him. He nods at your words. Friends. Is that all he’ll ever be?

“I got you this,” he says, showing you the simple, lone daisy that he picked on the way here. “I…” he says, tucking it behind your ear. I wish I could give you more. You stopped breathing, the proximity was too much to bear. You could see the blueness of his eyes, the freckles that kissed his nose and his cheeks. You could see every eyelash. It seemed like he didn’t mind it either. He was looking at you intently, trying to memorize every detail of your face. A face that could start a war, he was almost positive of it. You both unintentionally lean into each other, Tommy’s eyes flicking down to your lips, breath hitching.

“Tommy!” you jump away from each other, looking away. Fuck. He sighs in annoyance, looking at one of the guys he knew from work.

Maybe next time.

CAMDEN TOWN, 1921

“Put him down, Ollie!” he shouts. “Put him down, mate. He is only little.”

“You on your own?” He asked Tommy.

Tommy glances around.

“Seems so,”

Alfie Solomons always liked to play the best games. He had wide shoulders that matched how dominant and domineering he seemed. He was unpredictable, abandoning all sorts of things just to make sure that in the end, he gets the best deal. Tommy wondered what kind of deal he could put up with the Jewish gangster to double cross Simon Coventry, his biggest payer.

“Well, you’re a brave lad, ain't you?” he asked. “Want to take a look around my bakery? We bake all sorts here, mate, yeah. Did you know we bake over 10,000 loaves a week? Can you believe it?”

Tommy listens to him drone on about bread. He asked for brown bread and was served one.

“Come look,” Alfie says, leading Tommy to his office.

“Well, I’ve heard very bad, bad things about you Birmingham people. You’re gipsies, right? So what, do you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?”

“I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons.” Tommy coughs.

“Well, rum is for fun and fucking. So, whiskey, now that is for business,” he says, putting his bottle of whiskey for Tommy Shelby.

“Let’s talk first, eh?”

“Suit yourself,” Alfie shrugs.

“Heard you were dealing with billionaires,” Tommy brought up, trying to gauge the situation. He was sitting right in front of Alfie’s desk, noticing the latter reach for the drawer in his right.

“You heard correct. What about it?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Simon Coventry.” Tommy said. “He pays well?”

“Very well, mate.” Alfie replied, sipping on his whiskey. “Seeked for our protection services, invested…paid to kill for him. Has a wife, you know? Have you heard about her?”

“No,” Tommy shrugged, his voice monotonous, eyes bored. Alfie licks his lips.

“Never met her…lovely wife, they say, yeah. A very lovely wife…but this lovely wife of his needs to be guarded. Don’t believe in all that…I don’t do that to women, but this lovely wife of his is…huh, well, told me to kill anyone who comes near her, yeah? And guess what, mate? You’ve a big fucking bounty written on your fucking forehead,” Alfie revealed. “Now,” he pauses, leaning on the table. “What is this business you’re looking for?”

“We join forces,”

“Fuck off. No! Categorical. Fucking ridiculous,” he leans back, scoffing. Tommy leans forward, clasping his hand over the table.

“Mr. Solomons. Your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent and the rest; you make from the tracks.”

Alfie fumbles with the handle but Tommy speaks.

“I know you keep a gun in the drawer beside the whiskey. I know you offer a deal or death. I know what I’m saying makes you angry but I’m offering you a deal. People don’t trust your protection anymore. What makes you think that Simon Coventry will continue to trust you?” he asked.

“Well, you shot Billy Kimber, right? You did, you fucking shot him. That’s you. You fucking betrayed him, mate. So, it’ll be appropriate to do what I’m thinking in my head to you right now.”

“I can offer you a hundred good men all with weapons and a new relationship with the police.”

“Intelligence,” Alfie says. “Intelligence is a very valuable thing, ain’t it, my friend? And usually…it comes far too fucking late,” he reaches for the drawer on his left, pointing the gun at Tommy. He cocks the gun and Tommy sits there, unblinking. “Let’s say I shot you already, right? In the fucking face. And then the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet over there. Which is a shame.”

Tommy just sits there, his face devoid of any emotion. If he gets killed now, he doesn't care. He had no fear of death anymore.

“It’s fucking simple, mate,”

Blood trails down from Tommy’s nose and Alfie talks about some fucking cabinet behind him. He throws Tommy his handkerchief, but he doesn’t take it. Fucking cabinets and fucking asking him if Tommy wanted to go to Timbuktu.

“I’m sorry, go on,” Alfie concedes after telling Tommy that he always thought he’d have a big gold ring on his finger. It was only a small signet ring that Tommy was unconsciously playing with under the table. “Tell us your plan.”

NEW YORK, 1921

“I just got off the phone with the secretary. We’re invited to some Charity Gala in London that we have to go to,” Simon says. Simon says…seems like all you do is follow what Simon says. “You can stay here if you don’t want to go.”

“When is this?”

“In a week mostly,” he shrugged. “It would be great to have you there. It’s not grand or anything; it’s just a few of my partners having an event for some charity or foundation.”

“Oh,” you nodded. You wanted to be away from Simon, but you also wanted to go back to London. How were the Shelbys? How was Beth? “Yeah…yeah, I’ll go,”

“Perfect,” he says. “Your dress? You need a new one. I’ll arrange a trip for you with my assistant to help you look for what to wear. You have to be the most beautiful woman there. For reference, I prefer blue on you.”

“Okay, Simon. I’ll make sure to get a blue dress for you.” He smiles at you before turning the page on his newspaper. You were glad that things were back to how they were before Tommy arrived in Birmingham. You didn’t blame him—Tommy—Simon’s actions were your own fault. Who in the right mind would let their wife love another man? It’s not like Simon knew of your love but the fact that you hid who Tommy was from him still remains. Letting go of Tommy that night was…painful.

You couldn’t erase how crest-fallen he looked; that you were the cause for his anguish. He didn’t follow you; you told him not to. You didn’t want him to see you sit outside the Garrison with your head buried in your hands. You didn’t want him to see you howl in pain because you’ll never see him again. You didn’t want him to see how it hurt you to say goodbye to him.

You didn’t want him to see you but someone else did.

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

You looked up from your cowering position, eyelashes clumped.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just…I just left your brother,” you whispered, trying to even out the sob that threatens to get out of your body. Arthur frowns, crouching down in front of you. He tries to remove your shaky hands only to be met with your bruising jaw.

“Did Tommy— “

“No,” you shook your head. “He didn’t hit me.”

He nods. Arthur didn’t know who Tommy was these days. He’s closed off, aloof, cold, detached…he sometimes wonders if a time comes and he’ll just snap. Arthur’s coping mechanism was violence. He knows that he’s good…his hands or only bloody but Tommy…Tommy wasn’t good anymore. He felt conflicted; everyone seems to put all the burden on you to make Tommy come back…to make him good again. He heard Polly talk about it; how Tommy needed you…but if Tommy was the reason why you’re miserable, is he still worth coming back to?

“I told Tommy to never see me again,” you managed through your cries. “I feel…I feel so lost, Arthur. I didn’t want to do that—to say that to him when-when he’s here now but I have no other choice…he’ll get-he’ll—“

“What about you?” he asked, tracing big circles on your back.

“What do you mean?” you asked, hiccuping.

“I mean…you talk about Tommy and-and making sure that we’re all doing great but what about you, eh?” There was a small frown on his face, it was so different from the ‘Mad Dog’ that people know him as.

“I don’t need that,” you chuckled. “I’m married to-to—“

“Simon Coventry, I know. But who do you have other than him? I know you love Tommy—don’t even fucking deny it. It’s why you’re doing all these things, I know but Tommy has us; he has Birmingham, and you don’t,” he adds, tearing your heart into pieces. The realisation of isolation dawns on you and it is wicked; consuming your heart with grief because you had no one. Not Tommy. Not anymore. “You make sure that all of us are being taken care of…but no one’s taking care of you. This whole thing-this thing with Tommy, is it worth it if you can’t even come home to Simon because you’re fucking crying in front of The Garrison?”

“I don’t know what to do,” you shrugged. “I…I just can’t seem to stay away from you lot,”

“Oh, love,” he sighs. He’ll never tell anyone that he saw you crying in front of the Garrison. “Why did you marry him?”

“Because…I wasn’t sure if Tommy’s coming back,” you whispered softly. You wiped away the tears from your face, trying to regain composure. “I sent…sent letters but he never wrote back. When Simon proposed the idea of marriage and Tommy wasn’t-wasn’t writing to me, I just took the chance. It was a chance to get out of that fucking hellhole. Tommy hates me for it,” you whimpered. “I know he hates me for it because I always told him that I’ll wait but-but he didn’t write back. I didn’t wait for him.”

Arthur frowns, confused.

“He wrote to you but you never wrote to him,” he said.

“What?”

“He did, love. Wrote to you multiple times and-and he’d always be the first one to show up when there were letters from home. Always-always looking for your letter,” he reminisces. Deep in your heart, you knew that he was telling you the truth because there was some sort of empty longing that crossed his eyes. “He waited for your letters every day for four years.”

“Arthur…”

“I’m telling you the truth,” he says, looking at you more intently. “None of us knew you got married,” he added.

“Arthur—“ You were heaving, this changes things. Your resentment towards Tommy was all in vain if he sent you letters but where were those letters? Where could they be? Seeing you in distress, Arthur flings his arm around your shoulder. “I hated him for it…I hated him for four years…” you weeped. “Arthur, how could I haveever hated him?” You felt like cold water was splashed on your face. Of course, Tommy would have never done that to you. But who did?

“It’s not your fault, love. It’s not your fault.”

LONDON, 1921

It’s been long since you last stepped foot in London. A year wasn’t a long time but a year teetering on the edge waiting for the next blow was a year too long. It’s not that you were expecting anything, but now that you’re in London…so close to Tommy, you know that everything will be different again. He’ll be forceful under the pretext of loving you, some bullshitt about it being for the better…you knew it was wrong. You knew that it wasn’t right. You hated your predicament, but you hated yourself more for never seeming to have the ability to hate him.

You never questioned his love for you; you were sure about that but sometimes…you found yourself questioning if he loved you too much. You’ve never experienced love like that before. Too much love. Growing up, you always had just enough. What you couldn’t find from your mum, you found in Johnny. What you couldn’t find in your customers, you found in the Shelbys. What you couldn’t find from yourself, you found in Tommy. What you couldn’t find in Tommy, you tried to look for in Simon.

Everything was just right. To have too much was too much.

“You’ve been quiet since we got here, darling,” Simon says, his hand on your knee as you rode the Bentley back home.

“Sorry,” you smiled up at him. “I just miss London. It’s different to be back home,”

“I know,” he says. “But we’re here now. Where do you prefer?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, playing with his fingers. You thumbed the rings on his fingers, your wedding band the most important one.

“I’m asking…where do you want to build our family?” he asked. “I know I said that I didn’t want to have children yet but we aren’t getting any younger. We’d make the most beautiful children. They’ll get your beauty and intelligence. They’ll inherit whatever they want to inherit from me,”

Your fingers stilled.

“Hmm,” you pretended to think, trying to playt the cards right. “I’d want our children to grow up in London.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his head falling on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I want them to grow up here but also experience different things from travelling. Maybe we could find a summer house in Italy?” you asked. He kisses your neck and you sit there cold, unmoving.

“Yes, let’s buy a house in Italy…” he murmurs, drunk on your scent. “How many houses do you want, hm? Let’s buy whatever my wife wants…whatever she needs, hm?”

“You spoil me too much, Simon,” you force out a giggle. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Only for the best. You’re going to be the mother of my children,”

You arrived home and you heaved a sigh. You went inside your bedroom, ready to unpack some of the items you bought from New York when your eyes landed on the frame of pressed flowers that Tommy gave you on your birthday. Simon has been telling you to get rid of it—it was tacky, he said but you told him that the flowers were from a day of picnicking with your mother when you were a child. You felt your lips twitch at the memory of Tommy giving it to you sheepishly. If only you could have him back now. If only he’s there with you.

You breathed deeply, trying to purge yourself of the sadness that lingered. It’s been two years since you’ve last seen him. He’s staying true to his word, you knew. He’s protecting you and you’re protecting him. You hated the situation you were in. Why did you need protection in the first place? You were the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the whole world. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted handed to you on a silver platter. You could have everything but why do you feel so alone? Why do you feel like there’s still something missing? Why do you feel like, no matter what you did—no matter how you tried, Tommy’s still the one you love? You reached for the pendant but you remembered that it wasn’t there.

Was it selfish to wish for him to never marry someone else? To never love anyone? Was it selfish to wish for him to finally love you the way you do all these years?

Or was he only protecting you because he’s bound by his words and not the feeling of unbridled love that he has for you?

Polly told you that you could have everything…you felt like you had nothing.

You had more when you were working as a prostitute.

Now, you just have Simon.

Simon has been feeling your detachment ever since you arrived in New York. He knew that it was his fault; laying his hand on you like that but could anyone really blame him? You were his love; the object of all of his desires. You needed protecting, you needed safety and you needed him to give you the world.

He was in his office, sorting through the files that he left for a year. He picks up the telephone and dials a number. He wanted you all for himself. He was hungry for you; hunger for your affection, your flesh, your gaze. He’ll do everything to preserve the attention that you were giving him but now that he feels you slipping away, he’s becoming more desperate. It was all Tommy Shelby’s fault and he needed to be dealt with.

“I sent you the money for the murder of Johnny Wilson,” he speaks into the telephone. “I need you to do gsomething for me again.”

“Hm?”

Simon speaks into the phone authoritatively. Details of his plan were spoken. He was meticulous and specific with what he wanted.

“Even…even the children?”

“Even the children,” he confirms. He senses the hesitation of the speaker from the other side. “If you do it in less than a year, I’ll add another twenty thousand to the total. I’ll make sure you never have to work a day in your fucking life. Call me when it’s done,” he spits, ending the call and looking at a photo of you on the table; not knowing that on the other side, an intruder was hearing everything that just transpired.

Who was Simon Coventry?

Cameras flashed as you enter the venue for the charity ball. You were dressed in a blue gown like promised. Simon’s hand was on your waist, smiling tightly at the cameras. He always hated the attention of the media and in your own way, you wanted to calm him down. You touch the hand that was on your waist to remind him that you were there. You smile at him softly and he smiles back. If only he was as soft as he presents himself to be in the media.

He leads you into the venue without so much a glance offered to the media and you follow.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” you smiled up at him.

“You can go ahead and sit,” he says. “I’ll just be greeting some of my partners.” You nod and you allow him to kiss you on the cheek before you part ways. You didn’t know why—but you felt like something was wrong. Something was going to happen tonight.

A waiter comes to your table and offers you a drink. He was young—probably way younger than you.

“Champagne, please,” you told him. “You’re too young to be working,”

“I-I’m nineteen, ma’am,” he tells you while pouring you a glass.

“Ah, maybe not that young then,” you replied. ��Is this your first day?”

“Yes, ma’am. My first day on the job,” he says. “I’m quite nervous to be surrounded by the rich but I need the money…”

“I’m sure you’ll do well,” you replied, offering him a friendly smile. “Here,” you said, opening your clutch and handing him a few pounds. “Think of it as a tip for serving me champagne and for talking to me.”

“This is too much, ma’am,” he refuses but you shove the notes in his hand. You remembered how tips from the brothel helped you so much; it allowed you to buy necessities. It allowed you to get Tommy the signet ring that you got him for his 21st birthday. You were busy talking to the young man that you didn’t notice your husband walking towards you with a scowl on his face.

“Hey, you,” he sarcastically greets the server, snapping his fingers rudely.. “Refill my glass,”

“Simon— “

“Thank you,” he says, disregarding you completely. The boy turns to leave but Simon stops him. “No, stay. I need you to refill my fucking drink every time.”

“Simon—“

“You think my wife is beautiful?” he asked. The boy looks at you and you attempt to shake your head; telling him to walk away before anything else happens. “I’d be offended if you told me that she wasn’t.”

“Simon— “

He takes a swig of his drink before extending the same empty glass.

“What’s your name?” Simon asked, watching the boy shakily refill the champagne flute. “Don’t spill anything on my wife,” he threatens darkly. The boy swallows.

“William, sir,”

“William…do you think my wife is pretty?” he asked again. You look around the room to see that everyone was trying to discreetly watch the commotion. You tried standing up but Simon pushed you back down.

“Y-yes, sir,”

Simon nods, pleased with William’s answer.

“You may go, William,” you calmly told him.

“You may not,” Simon says. William’s feet were stuck planted on the ground. He was shaking and you tried to plead with Simon, but he wasn’t looking at you. “Actually, let’s take this outside, hm? Everyone seems to be enjoying this fucking commotion. Come with us, Y/N,”

“Simon, please,”

“Come on, darling,” he says, pulling you away forcefully from the table. You stumble after him, heart racing wildly inside your chest. Fuck. Your shoulders were shaking as you tried to catch your breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The three of you arrive in the wine cellar, an empty room where you were sure no one heard you.

“Stand there,” Simon says. “Y/N, stay beside me.”

William stands in front of Simon, his steps hesitant.

“I’ll give you a deal, William. Do you want a thousand pounds? You’ll never find that anywhere else,” he taunts. You shake your head discreetly, but William wasn't looking at you. He was pale, his breathing shallow. “I’ll give it to you right now. Cash,”

“Y-yes, sir,” he replies.

“Say please,”

“Simon—“

“Shut up! Shut up!”

“Please, sir,”

“Kneel and beg.”

“Simon, it’s not right! Please, let’s just go home,”

William kneels in front of Simon, and you could see the sinister smile that played on his lips. He fishes for something in his pocket—a gun.

“S-sir,”

“You want a thousand pounds, yeah?” he asked, waving his gun in the air.

“Simon—“

“I don’t want another word from you, Y/N. Or else, I swear, I will fucking shoot you.” he threatens. You were trying your best to stop being so hysterical but you couldn’t. You were sobbing, hands shaking when Simon pointed the gun at the poor boy. You tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to come out; tried to wonder what a monster Simon becamez

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you choked, crouching down on the floor to comfort yourself. “I’m sorry, William…”

BANG! BANG!

The sounds of a gun going off rings inside the cellar and you flinch. Simon has just shot William twice; one on his stomach, one on his shoulder. It was sloppy; you knew he was aiming for his heart. William lays on the floor with a pool of his own blood, crying in pain. Simon just walks towards him, throwing him a thousand pounds and then spitting on William’s face.

“Don’t ever look at my fucking wife again. Fix yourself Y/N. We’re going back to the party,”

“Simon, he’s just a kid! Get him to a fucking hospital!”

“I said, fix yourself!” he roared, and you closed your mouth. You stepped away from him, afraid of what he might do.

“Now you know what happens if you ever try to leave me. It’s time for me to show you what I will do to protect you, okay darling?” he asked, crouching down to your level and pulling you in an embrace. He kisses your temples to comfort you for the damage that he has done. “Don’t ever leave me,”

The two of you left William’s body and went back to the party. You were shaken, aloof the whole night. You couldn’t believe what just transpired. Simon’s cruelty—his disregard for himan life for a thousand pounds… You were trying to catch the attention of other servers but were ignored. You just wanted someone to check on William, that poor boy. You and your husband continued to sit beside each other acting like the happy couple, never noticing the pair of blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight into you.

Simon killed Johnny.

Your hands shook as you read the handwriting on the crumpled piece of paper over and over again. You found it in the clutch that you left in your seat when Simon shot William in the cellar. Turning the paper over, you sobbed; unable to control the emotions that begged for your attention—anger, fear, disgust, sadness…everything seemed to crash into you. You run towards the bathroom to vomit on the toilet. Your whole body tembled, and you cradled yourself on the bathroom floor. You didn’t care if the dress was wet and crumpled…how…why…what did you do in your past life to be punished like this?

You haven’t been the same since you received that note. Simon found you in bed; unmoving and unresponsive. The shock must have been too much to bear but he had to show you—he had to put on a display of what he would do to keep you safe and away from the Shelbys. He didn’t regret anything except for the way your eyes glistened when he threatened to shoot you. That was a sin he’d pay for but for now, maybe silence is enough to soothe you.

He lays in bed, an inch too far away from you and he couldn’t bear it. He could hear the way your sobs shook the bed; how hard you tried to keep yourself from being too loud.

“Darling…” he coos but you only cried harder.

“Not tonight, Simon. Please,” you whispered, desperation kicking in. “I’m…I’m— “

He nods to himself, a wounded puppy.

“I have…I have to leave you tomorrow to meet with Alfie Solomons,” he tells you. “Use that time to go out or, or get out of this place. I wouldn’t mind if you went alone as long as you have at least one of Alfie’s men to guard you,”

You wanted to laugh. He was holding your liberty as hostage; taunting you with it whenever he did something wrong but in reality, no matter how much freedom he grants you, his hand will always be on your neck to keep you from leaving.

“I’m sorry for threatening you,”

“Not tonight, Simon,”

He nods but it actually angers him for you to refuse him so easily. He has given you anything and everything. Hell, he bought you that summer house in Italy already, but you still couldn’t give him the satisfaction of holding you for the night. Did Tommy Shelby hold you while you slept? Would you have let him?

You felt Simon kiss your head before he left. You couldn’t sleep last night, thinking of all the ways to tell Tommy or at least anyone about Simon’s plan. You weren’t sure if he was sincere when he told you that you can go out today but you were taking that chance. You knew that Arthur wanted you to protect yourself but maybe this could be the last time. Just this once and then, never again.

You dressed up, the brown coat covering your figure and giving you shelter from the cruelty of the world that Simon built for the two of you. You ordered one of the servants to fetch you one of Solomons’ men that could drive. You needed to talk to Polly or anyone from Birmingham and the only way to do it was through the telephone. It was too dangerous at home; Simon had eyes and ears everywhere.

“Mrs. Coventry,” the driver greets you, opening the door to let you in. You settle yourself inside, opening your clutch for a deal he couldn’t resist.

“Other than driving me around, what else do you do?” you asked him.

“I’m told to obey all of your orders as long as it complies with what Mr. Coventry asks us,” he replied. “Where are we going today, ma’am?”

“Just…go to the city,” you replied. “Do you think…do you think you could do something for me? I’ll make sure you’re paid and that you won’t be blamed for anything that comes out of it,”

“Ma’am, I am under strict orders of Mr. Solomons to— “

“Five hundred pounds,” you interrupted, you needed him to understand the urgency of the situation. Your nail beds have bled through the night and were red and swollen. “I can give it to you in cash right now. Just tell me if you know where I could reach the Shelbys the fastest,” You sounded like Simon like now, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care anymore.

“There…there are Blinders right outside a flat in London. Ada Shelby is rumoured to live there,” he says lowly.

“Take me there. Make sure you’re discreet and make sure we’re not being followed. I’ll make sure that you’re safe,” you promised him. “Just…just go there as fast as you can,”

It’s hard to be discreet when you’re driving one of the most expensive cars in the world, but he drove you to Ada Shelby’s house anyway. Five hundred pounds was more than what he could ever make working under Alfie Solomons.

A storm was brewing, and you were at the centre of all of it.

Ada lives in a building in the centre of London. On the way, your driver told you about how Tommy bought the whole building for her. You smiled softly; Tommy was finally realising his dreams, but he was realising them without you.

You exited the car, covered from head to toe. You made sure no one recognized you; the lush, brown coat and your hat covered your face entirely. You told him to leave you alone and come back in three hours. He zoomed off, afraid to be seen by one of Simon’s men.

Your breathing was uneven and the steps that you took were shaky. You blamed it on the uneven ground. Knocking on the door, you prayed silently for Ada to hear you. The more time you spend outside, the higher the risk of being recognized. You waited with bated breath, but the door soon opened, revealing none other than the man who occupied every corner of your brain. You rushed inside before he could even speak and he let you, locking the door behind him as he followed you into the drawing room. He stands in front of you, removing the coat from your shoulders gently. You were shivering but not from the cold. How were you more beautiful than the last time he saw you?

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” you said over and over again, like you were making sure that he was there. Your resolve was dissolving, and you were near hysterical. He crouches down in front of you to take a good look for your face. He missed it; he missed your touch…he missed you. His fingers on your waist seem to snap you back to reality and you take a deep breath. “Simon killed Johnny. He’s going to—he’s going to kill all of you,”

A/N: Thank you very much for making this far! We’re getting closer to the end of this series but please don’t forget to reblog and comment if you liked it / loved it / hated this chapter, etc! I love discussing and replying to your comments and reblogs.

ALSO: A quick character study on Simon is that he is filty rich. The value of money is immaterial to him. In his eyes, money is a way for him to get anything and everything he wants. It’s what makes people kill and die for each other. If it benefits him, then he’d gladly throw money at whatever it is about.

TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash @sweetwanderlust05 @globetrotter28 @thebestandworstdayofjune @reggxe-a @verreuckteli @vampireluck @zoexme

(I’ll be removing people from my taglist on the next chapter if conditions aren’t met! I’m sorry but that’s the rule….)

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x you #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #protection!tommy

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pale-opal · 2 months ago

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I Listened to "The Wisdom Saga" and I Have Some Things to Say - Part 1

If you haven't listened to this part of "Epic: the Musical" yet, feel free to click off this post and do that because not only are you doing yourself a disservice, I will also be giving ALL of the spoilers under the cut, and the Epic sagas are best experienced blind. It's free to listen to on YouTube, Spotify, and Amazon Music, and it's also available to buy on iTunes.

Okay. Did you listen to it? You did? Great! Now let's get into it: 1. Legendary- This is my favorite song in the saga. - Telemachus is precious and must be protected at all costs - The "l-l-l-l-legendary" is giving Hamilton (2015), not gonna lie. - I mean that in the best way possible. - Some people have pointed out that Athena's melody can be heard in the background, and we know from past songs that when her theme or ticking sounds can be heard when she's not present in the song, that means that she's just observing to see what's going to happen before getting involved. - And that's a good thing, considering what's about to happen. - But we'll get to that. - I want to talk about this part of the chorus for a second:

"Give me sirens and a cyclops Give me giants and a hydra I know life and fate are scary But I wanna be legendary" - I just think that first line is so ironic because Odysseus fought both sirens and a cyclops. - I also think the giants line is interesting, since Odysseus almost got sent to the Land of the Giants after a certain someone opened the wind bag (*cough cough* Eurylochus *cough cough*). - Now I wanna talk about these lines:

"There are strangers in our halls Trying to win the heart of my mom But she is standing tall 108 old faces of men who call me small They keep taking space and it's not much longer we can stall

Cause they're getting impatient, dangerous tooAnd I would fight them if I was half as strong as you Somebody help me, come and give me the strength Can I do whatever it takes to keep my mom safe?" - While listening to this song, I got reminded of when my 10th grade English teacher covered the original Odyssey.- A phrase she kept using to describe how the suitors were treating Penelope and Telemachus was "eating [them] out of house and home." - To sum up what she meant by that, the suitors are basically taking advantage of the concept "xenia", which is an idea the ancient Greeks had. They believed that visitors were under the protection of Zeus, and that they had to be treated with respect. - Odysseus and his men try to invoke this when they first meet the cyclops. - Because of xenia, Penelope and Telemachus are sort-of "barred" from kicking the suitors out. - And even if they could... there are one-hundred and eight (108) of them. They're horribly outnumbered. They could easily be overpowered. - Now you may be asking yourself: "How come they haven't been overpowered already?" - The original text actually gives us an explanation for that: Penelope started working on what was known as a "funeral shroud" (a fabric a dead person is wrapped up in before being buried) for Odysseus' father. - She told the suitors that she would choose one of them to marry once the shroud was complete. - However, what she DIDN'T tell them was that she was going to undo some of the work each night, thus allowing her to work on the shroud for an indefinite amount of time, or until Odysseus came back. - ...or, at least, that's what would've happened if the suitors didn't find out what she was up to. Hence why their so antsy to find out which one of them she intends to marry:

"Where is he? Where is the man who'll have you to wife? Oh Where is he? Where is the man with whom you'll spend your life? Cause it's been 20 years (20 years) And we still have no king" - And now it's time to talk about the only antagonist in the entirety of "Epic" who is a clear-cut villain with no redeeming qualities: Antinous.- I want this man defenestrated immediately. - You know how Telemachus is a young man who respects women, loves his dad, even though he's never met him, wants his mother to be happy and safe, and also wants all of these sleazy men out of his house? - Yeah, okay, well, Antinous is the complete opposite of him. Just take a look at this interaction between the two of them (cw for implications of SA):

"[ANTINOUS] Boy! When's your tramp of a mother gonna choose a new husband? ... Why don't you open her room so we can have fun with her?

[TELEMACHUS] Don't you dare call my mother a tramp! ...

[ANTINOUS, spoken] I just did! Whatchu gonna do about it, champ?" - And you want to know what Antinous does after saying all of this? - He challenges the son of the woman he supposedly wants to marry, the same son who he sees as a child despite him being twenty (based on "108 old faces of men who call me small" and how he calls Telemachus "boy"), to a fistfight. 2. Little Wolf- This was the song I was the most excited for prior to its release, and I am pleased to say that it does NOT disappoint. - One thing I noticed before the song came out is that Poseidon refers to Odysseus and his crew as a "pack of wolves" in "Ruthlessness". - Considering how animal symbolism is used in this musical, Telemachus is seen as being in the same vein as his father, but is called "little" because he isn't quite on the same level as him... not yet, anyway. - But I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Fight, little wolf, fight Wanna entertain me? Bite, little wolf, bite Let's see how you take this Strike, little wolf, strike Wanna be a man? Then Fight, little wolf, fight, little wolf, fight" - The chorus is literally a bunch of grown-men trying to pressure Telemachus, who they see as a child, mind you, into fighting a man who is not only older than him, but who is also implied to be stronger, too. - They want this boy dead, and that is apparent before they line "die, little wolf, die, little wolf, die" even leaves their mouths. - I can't wait for "King" to come out. I want these posers to get what they deserve. - Oh, and as for Antinous: "You've made your worst mistake here, might be your last one too You'll have run out of bones to break when you and I are through I'll teach you all the lessonsyour daddy never couldThis cruel world doesn't give out presentsjust for being good" - While I do agree that Telemachus needs to become less sheltered, beating him to death is NOT the way to teach him how harsh the world is. That lesson is going to do him no good if he has to die to learn it. - But, of course, Antinous doesn't care about that. He only cares about dealing with the person standing between him and "his" woman. - The further I go into this, the more I want Antinous chucked out of a window. - But it's okay. It's fine, everybody. Because Telemachus' real mentor soon arrives on the scene:

"[ATHENA, spoken]Need some help?

[TELEMACHUS] What's going on here?

[ATHENA] Is your plan to stand around? Cause I suggest you fight back

[TELEMACHUS] I don't know how" - Okay, so two things: 1. Athena being totally down with helping Odysseus' kid despite this being the first time they meet is awesome. 2. Telemachus wants to fight monsters, but he doesn't even know how to properly punch a guy. I love this. He has Odysseus' heart, but not his "mind" so to speak. He wants to do all these serious and impressive things, but when the time comes for him to do so, he hasn't the foggiest idea as to how.

"[ATHENA, spoken] Uppercut him, now.

[TELEMACHUS] Woah, how did I do that? Is time now moving slow?

[ATHENA] No, I just made your thoughts quick" - I'm so glad we get this explanation of how "quick-thought" works! It doesn't slow-down time. It speeds up the mental faculties of the person under its effects, and essentially puts them in a "bubble" where they can interact with the outside world in-real time while perceiving (and acting?) faster than their surroundings (I don't know if Jay explained this anywhere else. If he did, I'm sorry for being redundant). - And then we get these absolutely raw lines from Athena: "I've no respect for bullies Those who impose their will I've seen plenty enough to truly understand this kind of filth Let's teach this dog a lesson In front of all his kind One young wolf has a larger heart than all these men combined" - THIS IS WHAT I MEANT ABOUT THE ANIMAL SYMBOLISM! Dogs are considered by many to be the descendants of wolves. A genetic relative that is not quite as feral or quite as aggressive as a wolf, even if they're wild. And based on how Athena calls the suitors "filth" (ha!) and puts extra emphasis on how wolves are stronger than them, I wouldn't be too surprised if she was talking about domesticated dogs. And that case, they don't stand a chance against - oh, wait. Hold on a second: "[ATHENA, spoken] Ooh, maybe I pushed you a bit too hard!

[TELEMACHUS, spoken] Ow..." - I can totally imagine Telemachus getting a headache or a nosebleed here. It's his first day getting into a fight, and the first time he's experiencing deus ex machina. Ya boy is not qualified for all of this. He needs a break. - Oh, and then we get Antinous being butthurt about Telemachus actually managing to rough him up a little:

"Go back and cry in your corner Make sure your mother hears If she won't choose a man to adorn her We'll bring blood and tears" - Again. Defenestration. It would suit Antinous really well.- The next song is dedicated to Telemachus receiving an answer to this question: "Athena, why did you come to my aid?"

3. We'll Be Fine - I have a confession to make: I thought this song was going to be boring. - I am SO glad I was wrong. - I also thought that this would be a Penelope song. - I was wrong about that too, but I'm sure she'll get her moment eventually. - One thing that this song accomplishes musically is that it combines the melodies of "Warrior of the Mind" and "Legendary" together, making something that sounds new and different. It feels like Athena and Telemachus really see each other as friends, and that Athena felt the same way about Odysseus - she was just to focused on being his mentor to acknowledge that until now. - Oh, and we also find out that Athena has been dealing with some serious guilt since the cyclops argument:

"I had a friend before, and He was a lot like you I helped him fight through war, but He had his demons too And then we grew apart Then his light went dark

And so, I thought Maybe, if I made a different call Maybe if I hadn't missed it all Maybe, he'd be fine Maybe we'd unwind Maybe, if I help another soul Maybe, if I helped you reach your goal Life could be that bright I could sleep at night"

- This part of the song hurts, y'all. - Athena is genuinely convinced that if she had stuck with Odysseus then he would be home safely, and that what happened between them is mostly her fault, even though Odysseus told her to her face that he wanted to be rid of her, too. - AND she's losing sleep over this man? Somebody go get him immediately.- I really want to talk about the lines referring to light for a moment: - When I first heard "Then his light went dark" I thought that meant Athena legitimately thought Odysseus was dead. Which makes the fact that she feels guilty about everything that happened even WORSE. - And then "Life could be that bright" is just her saying that Odysseus made her life better and that she was wrong about not seeing him as a friend, and that friendship is necessary for living a meaningful life. - And you know, that kind of makes me want to grab Odysseus by the shoulders and violently shake him for shouting "YOU'RE ALONE!" to Athena all the way back in "My Goodbye". Like, no she wasn't, Odysseus, she had you. And you had her. And then you both screwed it up by being too stubborn to admit that the other person had a point. Now BOTH of you are sad and lonely. - But again, it's okay. It's fine (pun not intended). Because Telemachus is still here, listening to all of this: "Athena, I don't know who your friend is I don't know what he's like, but My time with you has been splendid The best day of my life Cause I got in a fight, and I didn't die" - He literally has doesn't know who Athena is talking about, and even if he did, it wouldn't matter, because he NEVER MET HIS DAD. - Why is this song so sad? - We're three songs deep, and I am HURT. - And it's just gonna get worse from here. - On a lighter note, Telemachus says that he has really enjoyed hanging out with Athena for the past fifteen (15) minutes, and that this is actually the best day of his life. His reasoning? He survived getting jumped! Hooray! - Wait, what? That's it? That's all took for this to be the best day of his life? Just... just how bad has his life been, until now? - ... - ...hm. "Maybe, if life wasn't spent as planned Maybe, it's time that you lend a hand I don't think he'll mind If not his friend, then mine

[TELEMACHUS & ATHENA] Maybe, to fall is to learn one way Maybe, it's all gonna turn out great I know we'll be fine I know it's light you'll find" - Telemachus offers to be Athena's friend, while also telling her that it's okay for her to move on from Odysseus. - And he still doesn't know that he's talking about his dad, I can't-- "To fall is to learn one way" = "Sometimes it's okay to learn things the hard way." - Athena had to learn that friendship was something worth pursuing with others by losing the first friend she ever had, and Telemachus had to learn to stand up for himself and come out the sheltered life he's been living by getting into a fistfight. - Light is being used as a metaphor for happiness, and that makes me happy. Because Telemachus and Athena needed a friends, and they have each other now. I love that for them. - This is also the point where the "Legendary" and "Warrior of the Mind" melodies combine. I know I said earlier that was a representation of how Athena and Telemachus friendship was forming, but I would like to off this interpretation as well: - Putting "Warrior of the Mind" and "Legendary" on the same level as each other musically could be a thematic way of saying that Telemachus is a "warrior of the mind", as it were. However, since I did say that Telemachus doesn't have Odysseus "mind" before, I would like to elaborate and say that in this instance, Telemachus is being considered to be an equal to his father due to his emotional intelligence. What he lacks for in book-smarts, he makes up for in heart.

Unfortunately, my complete thoughts on this particular saga are too long for tumblr to allow as one post, so I'll have to post a part 2 later today. We'll be covering "Love in Paradise" and "God Games" then. Furthermore, please do not confuse me talking trash about any of the characters or wanting to see them face consequences for their actions as me speaking poorly of or wishing harm upon any of the actors or crew for "Epic" or any other real people, because that is not what I am doing. I hold great respect for the "Epic" team, and I am eager to see what they do in the future. That's all I can say for now. I'll see you all in a few hours with part 2. Update: Part 2 can be found here.

#cw: sa mention #cw: implied attempted sa #epic the wisdom saga #epic the musical #telemachus #antinous #odysseus #athena deity #lyric analysis #essay #long post #defenestration #opal speaks #may God bless you all

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stormcloudrising · 5 months ago

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Rhaenyra Targaryen, Is she a Monster Hiding in Plain Sight?

So, I just posted a thread on the ex bird App breaking down why I think Rhaenyra is quite possibly a monster hiding in plain sight, and how it’s been on the screen since season one. The set-up is all there and people are just sleeping on it like they did with Dany, and when Rhaenyra truly does and in-your-face dark deed that can’t be ignored, they will say, “ but there was no set-up.”

I’m just going to post the paragraphs of the thread here and so apologies for any typos as I’m not interested in going back to correct…LOL. And of course, because of Tumblr rules, I must label it anti-Targaryen to protect sensibilities, when it’s not. It’s just an analysis of what’s on the screen. In case you’re interested, here is what I posted.

Great scene between Rhaenyra and Daemon on Sunday’s episode of #HOTD. Well acted by Emma & Matt, and extremely well written, which convinced me that the episode was mis-titled. Instead of Rhaenyra the Cruel, it should have been Rhaenyra, the Monster Hiding in Plain Sight.

Yes. You read that correctly. Rhaenyra will turn out to be the monster hiding in plain sight & the proof has been in the dialogue & on screen since season 1. Before she does something truly dark, and people start saying it came out of left field, let me show you the video tape.

But let me set it up for you. What do I mean she’s a monster hiding in plain sight? Well, during her argument with Daemon, for the second time, she told him that she believes he’s capable of monstrous acts, including the killing of a baby.

She says this when this is exactly the reason she married Daemon. She married him to protect her path to the throne and for him to commit the monstrous acts when necessary on her behalf—like murdering her husband, the “father” of her children, and the brother of Daemon’s wife.

…is off mourning the loss of his sister & not there in the moment to put up the front, & this is the last straw for Rhaenyra. For her, Laenor is now useless, but hey, Daemon is back & he’s known for committing dark deeds & so how difficult can it be to get him to kill her hubby.

She monstrously asks Daemon to do this on the day he returns home to bury his wife—right after Laena’s funeral no less. She wants him to kill Laenor, who has been there for her all these years, & who gave her children a happy childhood, as we see from Jace’s memories of him.

Laenor is off mourning the loss of his sister & not there when she needs him to put up a front, & this is the last straw for Rhaenyra. He is now useless, but hey, Daemon is back & he’s known for committing dark deeds & so how difficult can it be to get him to kill her hubby.

And before you say Rhaenyra would never have killed Laenor, let me show you the evidence on screen…starting with this conversation where she says for the first time that she believes Daemon is capable of monstrous acts. Right before she works her magic and seduces him.

Let’s now look at the on screen evidence in order to support my thesis. First time she tells him that she believes he can commit monstrous and depraved acts…starts at 1:35. Listen to the dialogue. youtu.be/Cs1CJTPMPn8?si

She soon proves Daemon’s earlier point that each person is capable of depravity when she asks him to marry her. He says, the only way it can happen is if Laenor is dead, and she responds, “I KNOW,” indicating that she had already considered the idea and was ok with it.

Watch this next clip and how Matt plays the scene holding his hand to his chest. Daemon recognizes her request as a depraved act proving his earlier point, but she doesn’t even see it. youtu.be/4gTGi3VE4pU?si

That clip really should be labeled, “Rhaenyra ask Daemon to kill Laenor” rather than to marry her. Let’s now look at the final clip that covers the actual events surrounding the “murder” of Laenor.

Pay particular attention to Daemon and Rhaenyra’s voice overs. First let me say that only tyrants or soon to be tyrants say I’m not or won’t be a tyrant. If you’re not a tyrant or don’t have those tendencies, there is no need for that declarative statement.

They don’t show the actual scene of Daemon and Rhaenyra planning Laenor’s death, but they give us the voice overs. And while we don’t get the full conversation, we do get enough of it that in juxtaposition with the scenes of Laenor, allows us to fill in the obvious blanks.

Note Rhaenyra saying “I do love Laenor,” and the intonation in her voice as if she’s being convinced of something. We know as shown in the previous clip that she was quite fine with killing Laenor. In fact, it was her plan.

And so, that can’t be what Daemon is trying to convince her of when he says, “then grant him this kindness. Set him free.” The scenes on the screen of Laenor and Qarl fighting would seem to suggest that Daemon was referring to the freedom of death.

However, Rhaenyra’s words about love and the ending scene of Laenor and Qarl escaping shows it wasn’t death that Daemon was talking about. He was trying to convince Rhaenyra to let Laenor go free. Here is the clip. youtu.be/UevRWZAxBiA?si

If Rhaenyra’s plan was always to let Laenor escape to Essos, there would be no reason for Daemon to ask her to grant him the kindness of freedom. The lightness inside of Daemon was ascendant on the day Rhaenyra asked him to kill Laenor.

Of course, the darkness quickly rebalanced the scale as he turned around and killed an innocent man to play the role of Laenor’s dead body. Why did Daemon grant Laenor the kindness of his life and freedom. With Daemon, you never know.

Maybe it was because Laenor was his wife’s twin and his daughters’ uncle. Maybe he didn’t want Rhaenyra to be the depraved monster he mentioned in his words to her. All signs point to Rhaenyra being a tyrant.

While she’s currently hiding it, Tyrants always show their true colors, and it will happen here too. And people will say, but it came out of left field. There were no clues that Rhaenyra had this darkness in her, when it’s always been there on the screen from the beginning.

So yeah, Rhaenyra is not the good guy thinking about the good of the realm. Unlike Jaime who betrayed his vows to protect the realm, Rhaenyra betrayed Laenor for the simple quest of power. She wants the throne & Alicent sits in Kings Landing with her sons keeping her from it.

Daemon does not hide who he is. Rhaenyra on the other hand knowingly does, and that’s the worse type of person you would want to rule.

Her comment to Daemon that she believes he can commit monstrous acts was the show saying…”hey remember when she said that the first time and what she was planning”. Remember things are not always as it seems, and so, don’t be surprised.

#rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti targaryen #hotd #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon

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pearlsinmyhair · 1 year ago

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₊ ⊹ the price of the name.

synopsis: reader has had a hard life, and now she’s an orphan. but someone just as lonely comes into her life to take her under his wing.

warnings: angst. lots of hurt, very little comfort. miguel is a hardass who pushes people away. death.

platonic!miguel x daughter-like!reader. no seriously, reader is eighteen and young. this is found family, not romantic.

the intention is for this to be multi-part. how many parts? idk.

word count: 1.3k

pt i : fate

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　

being a spider person was always unfair. mercy from whatever divine being that controlled their universes was hard to come by.

you were no exception.

your father died early, shot by a man who ran with someone’s purse. you didn’t know him well, you were only three after all. but your mother fought hard to teach you about him, to make sure you remembered some semblance of him.

and all was well for a time. you went to school, made some friends, started working for some extra cash under the table.

you were reaching up into your attic when the sharp sting of a spider bite zinged up from your hand. you killed it with a slap, but nothing could stop the venom that now traveled through your veins.

the rest was history: you became your universes one and only spider woman, learning her trade as she went.

the cannon event hit later, and it was different from the others.

you had no uncle to find dead on the street.

but you did have a mother.

she was working the late shift at the hospital when a spouse of a dead patient burst through the doors and demanded to see a doctor. apparently, the man wanted revenge for the hospitals failure to save his wife, and he had come to instill justice.

your mother had raised her hands and tried to plead for him to stop, to calm down, to lower his gun.

the shot made your spider-senses go haywire, and you practically flew to the trauma center. the security guards had no idea what to do, so you just ran past them to find your mother bleeding on the cold white tile.

it took everything in you to remember that behind your mask, no one knew you were this woman’s daughter, and you’d have to respond carefully. you watched as the officers called the next of kin, and you were thankful that you had had the mind to put your phone on silent that day.

no one noticed the tears streaming from your eyes behind the suit. you swung back home as fast as you could, answering your phone when they called you again.

pretending to not know what was going on was the second worst thing you had to do that day. you had to fight from chocking on tears as you answered the call.

eighteen and orphaned, standing over your mothers open casket. a part of you thanked that you were older, because it meant that you didn’t have to go into foster care. but nothing could truly quell your grief.

and then the universe decided to send you a big middle finger in the shape of a Doc Oc right after the funeral ended.

you knew that you couldn’t keep going like this. no one should process grief this fast. but as the villain sent a tidal wave through the streets of new york city you relized that you didn’t exactly have a choice.

with great power comes great responsibility.

and saving these people was your responsibility, no matter what mental state you were in.

this Doc Oc looked to be from some other dimension. instead of mechanical tentacles like that of your Doc Oc, he had real ones, and he apparently threw actual octopi at people when he was pissed off.

it was no easy task, and at one point he had thrown you against the wall and knocked your head. as your vision swam, he picked you up with one of his suctioned limbs and squeezed.

it all happened so fast.

a flash of orange and yellow swirling at the edge of your vision. orange silk shooting into your captors face. and then someone shot forward and sliced the tentacle that held you.

you sank to the ground as you caught your breath, vaguely hearing someone say “Lyla, run a diagnostic. what’s the best way to take this guy down?”

as you wheezed, a large hand rested against your shoulder, and a soft voice greeted your ears.

“Sit tight, kid. I’ll handle this.”

you didn’t have time to argue when the hand vanished, and you peered up just in time to see a large spider-man in a blue suit throwing himself at the villain.

you stood as you caught your breath, rushing right back into battle to help the man that had saved you. the Doc Oc dragged you both to the bay, sinking down into the water. it was advantageous for him, being a water dwelling creature, and you and the man struggled. it took another spider, a woman on a motor cycle, showing up to help defeat him.

but it was you who dealt the final blow, wrapping the villains limbs to a nearby pier to keep him underwater. when the pair of new spider people got him all tied up and prepared to take away, you just…collapsed.

everything came down on you at once. your exhaustion, your sadness, your loneliness. everything.

you barely heard the spider woman murmur to the brash man across from her, and it was only when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you and pick you up that you snapped back to reality.

but just as quickly as you zeroed in on the feeling, your brain whispered sleep in your ear, and you passed out.

₊ ⊹

you woke to a strange bare bedroom and an odd watch that flickered with light on your wrist. noticing the glass of water on the bedside table, you chugged it, coughing when you got too eager.

“You’re awake!”

you screamed, a small voice coming from right beside your head unexpectedly. you turned to see a small woman illuminated in the light from your watch.

“no need to be afraid. i’m lyla.”

lyla. that rang a bell.

“where am i?” you asked as you noticed the clothes folded in the corner of the room. you cast a sideways glance at the projection, and lyla turned to give you the illusion of privacy.

“miguel will answer all your questions. i’ve alerted him of your new condition.”

you slipped on the black sweatpants and top gratefully, relishing the feeling of soft cotton against your skin. as your hands moved over your body, you quickly noticed various cuts and bruises.

that’s right, i passed out.

“where is this miguel?” you asked as you studied the watch, noticing the flickering ‘EARTH-928’ across the screen.

almost immediately, little glowing footsteps were projected from the watch, making you whip your hand away from your face.

“i guess that’s my answer?” you asked lyla, and the woman nodded.

you sighed, figuring you might as well follow them.

fantastic survival skills from the one and only spider-woman.

well, you thought, not the one and only.

₊ ⊹

the man before you seemed almost nothing like he was when you were fighting Doc Oc.

he seemed…infinitely tired. his shoulders hunched, head ducked down. you supposed that you were distracted during the fight.

but his expression revealed much more than his body language. he had deep eye bags, and his cheeks were sunken in a way that expressed not just natural bone structure but also a lack of eating and sleeping properly.

miguel looked drained.

you were still processing what he had told you, about the cannon and the ‘Spider-Society’ and the ‘Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse.’

you had actually openly scoffed at that one, and he looked dejected by your reaction.

“but i can’t just send you home now. i’m pretty sure jess would actually web me for all eternity if i did.” he was saying, rubbing his brow.

“so what exactly am i doing here, then?” you asked, curious but hesitant.

he turned his back to you, looking forlornly at his screens.

“i’m going to train you.”

“why?” came your response, surprised and uncertain. you may have only known miguel for less than an hour, but you could already tell that taking on a young apprentice wasn’t exactly in his character.

he didn’t turn to you. he just kept looking at a picture of a young girl on one of his screens.

“because you remind me of someone.” he said quietly. then he looked at you, and you were struck with the amount of guilt and suffering that lived in his eyes.

“and because you remind me of myself. and i can’t let you become like me.”

masterlists | part ii

#oh lord save me with these father daughter dynamics #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #platonic!miguel ohara x reader #dad!miguel #daughter!reader

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prettyyoungandbored · 5 months ago

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See You Again - Charlie Dalton

Pairing: Adult!Charlie Dalton x Fem!Pregnant!Reader

NOT MY GIF

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” Charlie asked, rubbing his wife’s back.

“Everything that is terrible for me,” she replied with a tired sigh, putting one hand on her belly. “Probably a bad idea bringing me into the grocery store.”

“We’re almost done with the list,” he told her. “Besides, we’ll be here for a week. We can always come back if you need other stuff.”

They decided to spend the week at his parent’s vacation home in Vermont. Y/N had been itching to get away from the city but considering she was four months pregnant, Charlie didn’t feel like going too far.

“How about we do some roast chicken thighs tonight?” she suggested. “It’s easy enough.“

“Perfect.” He kissed her cheek.

“Ok, so for that we’ll need some chicken thighs, rosemary-.”

“Charlie?”

Charlie looked away from Y/N, his smile falling. His blood ran cold at the figure standing in front of him.

Mr. Perry.

The last he saw Neil’s father was at Neil’s funeral. That was a little over 10 years ago, yet the man hadn’t aged all that much.

In all the times Charlie’s returned to Vermont since being kicked out of Welton, he managed to avoid seeing the Perry’s. There was the scare when his mother invited them to his and Y/N’s wedding, but they never responded nor showed up.

Y/N’s shifted from Charlie and the old man, wondering if she should stay behind Charlie and protect their baby.

“Mr. Perry,” Charlie spoke up, trying to swallow the lump in the throat.

Y/N’s eyes widened in realization and she wondered if she should step in for Charlie’s sake.

Meanwhile, Charlie saw Mr. Perry’s eyes fall to Y/N’s stomach. Charlie tightened his jaw, fists clenched.

“Congratulations…son,” the old man said with a nod.

Once the old man turned away, Y/N sighed in relief. “Let’s just pay and go, ok?”

Charlie wasn’t going to argue.

==================================

Following by a silent car ride home, Y/N spoke up the moment they walked inside the vacation home.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we’re going to,” she said.

“Honey-.”

“Non-negotiable, Charlie.”

His jaw tightened. “Fine. Alright. He has no right to show his face to me. Not after what he did. And the way he looked at your stomach…like…who am I to be a father, right? Like he…he…”

“Charlie-.”

“Neil should be here, dammit! He should be here and the fact his asshole of father is still walking around after what he did! After what he caused!”

Tears streamed violently down his face. Y/N reached out to him, but he stepped back. He turned around and walked outside, slamming the door.

Y/N exhaled softly, guilty tears filling her eyes. She just wanted to talk with him about it, but she knew she should have known better.

As she sat down on the couch, she pretended to ignore the sound of the car driving off.

==============================

Charlie closed the car door and made his way up the hill, hands buried in his jacket pocket. He walked across the cemetery, glancing at the names until he saw the one he needed to see.

And then he spotted it, his heart dropping to his stomach.

NEIL ROBERT PERRY

NOVEMBER 10, 1943 - DECEMBER 15, 1959.

He’d avoided coming here long enough. He’d sworn after the funeral he wouldn’t go here, already traumatized by the fact his best friend was in a casket.

Hot tears strolled down his face, as he lowered his head.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come out here,” he spoke up. “I would say it’s not for a lack of trying, but…”

He shook his head. “You know, I never forgave myself for not stopping your dad. I thought if maybe I intervened or actually did something, I could’ve…you know. I promised myself that next time I’d see him, I’d give him a piece of mind. Tell him what I should’ve told him at the funeral. Yet the second I see the son of a bitch in the grocery store, I choke.”

He lowered his head, a tear rolling down his cheek and hitting the headstone.

“I’m gonna be a dad, Neil,” he continued. “How can I protect my kid when I couldn’t protect you?”

The silence that fell was a reminder that Neil could not respond. He couldn’t tell Charlie what he needed to hear. He couldn’t tell him that things would be ok.

And he never would.

Charlie wiped his tears and sniffled. “I miss you, Neil.”

===================================

When Charlie returned to the house, he hung his jacket and slid off his shoes. Figuring Y/N was probably asleep, he quietly made his way up the stairs into the master bedroom.

There, he found Y/N lying awake in bed, the soft glow from the television reflecting on her.

She propped herself up when she saw him walk in. “Charlie, I’m sorry I-.”

“No, no don’t apologize,” he said, crawling into bed beside her. “I’m sorry I screamed and ran off like that.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s ok. You were shaken up and I-.”

“No, Y/N, it’s not ok. There’s no justification for it.” He grabbed her hand, kissing her open palm. “I’m sorry and I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Y/N went to turn off the TV when Charlie asked, “Can we keep it on a bit longer?”

“Of course.”

She snuggled into him, as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

Not a moment passed by when Y/N broke the silence and returned to the subject. “Where did you go?”

Charlie sighed, wishing to avoid it but knowing he needed to face it one way or another.

“I went to Neil’s grave,” he answered.

She straightened up her posture, mouth hung open slightly. “You actually went?”

“I didn’t really know where else to go. Plus, I figured it was time.”

He wanted to end the conversation there, but she had that look he knew all too well. It was the kind of look that begged him to keep talking about it.

“It was strange,” he continued. “The idea of talking at a headstone, knowing that’s the only way I can talk to him.”

His eyes fell to her stomach. “You know what kills me the most? The way Mr. Perry looked at me after he saw your stomach, like I had the audacity to become a father.”

“He knows you’ll be better than he was and that’s what kills him,” she said.

He glanced back up at her. “You think so?”

“The fact you’re opening up about it means you care enough not to repeat the mistakes you’ve seen others make,” she said. “I know you’ll be a better father than Mr. Perry and your dad ever was.”

His hand met her stomach. She placed a hand over his.

“I promise I’m gonna do my best,” he said.

He used his other hand to take a strand of Y/N’s hair, tucking it behind her ears. “I’m sorry I yelled and walked out on you. You never deserved that.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you to talk about it. I should’ve let you had a moment to process it.”

“You were trying to help.”

“I could’ve gone about it better though.”

“How about we leave it at we’re both sorry and we focus on enjoying each other’s company during the trip?” he suggested gently.

She smiled in agreement. “Works for me.”

#charlie dalton #charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton imagine #dead poets society fanfic #dead poets society

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katerinaaqu · 14 days ago

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The Death of Odysseus: The funeral

This is an old request done by @that-greek-mythology-girl when she asked me in an ask for an extra chapter for my 3 part fic about Odysseus dying and traveling to the underworld. So this is that extra chapter showing that specific story. Sorry I was so late! Set after, Part 1 , Part 2 and Part 3 (Although one can say they happen simoultaneously too! Your choice!)

The night was not particularly hot that day and yet Telemachus was sweating. It was a long night and celebrations were indeed lasting way longer than expected. It wasn’t that it wasn’t a good thing; it was just that the King of Ithaca felt rather uncomfortable staying in large crowds for too long. Surely he would pinpoint his natural shyness or natural introverted nature or even his experience for over five nightmarish years when he was constantly harassed and taunted by over a hundred men, some of them barely a few years older than himself, who wished to force his mother to new matrimony. Whatever the reason was, Telemachus preferred just to sit on his throne and enjoy his wine while observing rather than engaging too much into conversations. He even felt rather dizzy and he needed his moment of peace before he finally decided to retire to bed after a short walk in the gardens to clear his head. There was an intriguing sensation that wouldn’t leave him in peace. His wife; a real beauty with hair in the color of walnut and large brown eyes, was walking by his side, holding his arm as well, making sure he was alright.

“Now, now…” Nausicaa chuckled, “You do speak about your father but you too lost control tonight!”

Telemachus smiled shyly.

“I know, Nausicaa…I am sorry for that. I guess I got carried away!”

Entering their temporary chambers made him sigh in relief in his little sanctuary. He removed the circlet of gold from his head with a sigh of contentment, placing it aside.

“Perseptolis is…”

“He is fine, Telemachus” Nausicaa said, assisting her husband out of his mantle and some of his jewelry, “He went to bed hours ago”

“Ah…good…” Telemachus mumbled absentmindedly

“It is good that Theoklymenos is taking good care of him as his tutor. He knows a lot”

“He was godsend, that’s for sure!” her husband replied, “If it weren’t of him I would be dead now… He just needed a second chance in life and he hasn’t disappointed ever since…even if he is old now…”

“That’s you, my darling…” Nausicaa smiled removing her own rich garments and jewelry, letting her long hair cascade down her back over her light, cotton dress, “You always see the best in people… You are always kind…a bit naïve at times but…”

“Hmm…”

Nausicaa looked over from the cloth she used to remove her makeup. It was obvious her husband hadn’t heard a word. His eyes were stuck to nothingness in deep thought. For a moment he reminded her of him…his father. His eyes would also glue themselves to nothingness, appearing like out of the world. It was just his eyes were black as coal while Telemachus had the gentle blue eyes of his mother.

“Seriously, Telemachus, what’s wrong?” now his wife seemed worried, “You seemed weird all night ever since your father retired to bed. Care to share with me what’s going on?”

Telemachus eyed her and his blue eyes shone apprehensively. His wife was a very clever and bright young woman. He couldn’t believe his ears and eyes when his father came back from his redemption trip and had this treasure with him on the ship and announced him that he had found him a bride. For Telemachus it was almost love at first sight. He never expected that to happen to him but it had. Nausicaa was incredible wife and even better queen, bringing knowledge and treasures from her own homeland. A few years later she brought to this world their son, Perseptolis and only then Telemachus could really comprehend what his father must have felt for him and his mother. Nausicaa and Perseptolis were his entire world; two stars in a nightly sky. Telemachus could entrust literally anything to his wife and his wife was always there for him. Despite the sudden news, Telemachus was now grateful to his father for casually bringing a wife to him. In one way Telemachus who was raised protected almost like a child till the day he was 20 suddenly felt like growing as a person. How strange, he thought thinking back, I didn’t consider myself as much of a man when I killed those dreadful men but when I got married; when I have gotten someone to love and protect…someone I felt completed me! He wasn’t so sure he would be as good king as he was now if he hadn’t Nausicaa by his side! There were moments, though, where he felt there was a shadow between them even after all these years. Telemachus couldn’t or didn’t want to put his finger on it. Much less now. He sighed and ran his hand through his long, thick, curly hair.

“Nothing in particular…it is just…” he tried to put his thoughts in order, “When we spoke…father was… He seemed very strange to me…sad and yet happy at the same time…hard to explain but…”

He nervously played with the end of his beard.

“It almost felt like he was trying to… If you heard what he told me he…” he softly bit the corner of his fingernail; a habit he had developed ever since he was a child

Nausicaa sighed and playfully slapped his hand down.

“He is a grown man, Telemachus” she said, slowly opening her husband’s shirt to help him remove his clothes for bed, “I am sure he knows how to take care of himself!”

“I know!” Telemachus retaliated, “Is not that is just… I just don’t like this feeling that’s all.”

“Is this the reason why you were a bit gloom drinking tonight?”

Telemachus thought for a second and then nodded.

“Perhaps…I am not sure”

“I am sure is just you over thinking again, my dear…” Nausicaa said airily, “That’s what you do. You always worry too much and over think”

“Do I?”

“You do. It is who you are. You always think too much, you care too much. It is part of your charm.”

Telemachus sighed a bit as his wife helped him out of his shirt and sandals. She often did that; attending to him herself, the same much as he attended to his father. It felt more familiar; more intimate that way.

“You always take care of me, Nausicaa…” he whispered

Nausicaa’s answer was a soft chuckle and a kiss to his cheek.

“I am your wife” she said emphatically, “I’m supposed to…”

Telemachus had no answer to that. He smiled softly and finished the rest of his toilette before bed. He made a praying gesture with his hand for protection.

“Where are you going?” Nausicaa asked seeing him walking to the door

“To father” Telemachus admitted, “Wanted to check on him”

“Leave him be, my dear” Nausicaa held on him, “He’s asleep. Don’t disturb him now”

“But…”

“Please, Telemachus, come to bed. You need to rest now otherwise you won’t have a fresh mind tomorrow”

Telemachus sighed. Truth to be told, he was kind of tipsy and he needed to have a clear head the next day; not to mention how his father said he would sleep. And yet that feeling tickling his gut wouldn’t leave him in peace. He absentmindedly caressed her arm in deep thought. Nausicaa kissed his hand tenderly.

“Enough with the gloom thoughts. It is too late, I am tired and I cannot rest properly without you by my side, you know it! Come to bed with me”

Telemachus smirked.

“Are you seriously trying to seduce me to obtain healthy sleeping habits?”

“Is it working?”

Direct. Clear. Honest. That was probably the thing he drew him to her the most. He smirked again, reminding for a little while he was his father’s son.

“Yes”

He had no idea what made him wake up but when he did the sun was softly caressing his face directly. He felt the familiar yet pleasant weight of his wife’s head on his chest but that was not the weight he was concerned on with right now. The same feeling of uneasiness he had felt the night prior was still there. It wasn’t the light dizziness he had from drinking the night before that was causing it. It was something profound that wouldn’t leave him in peace. He tried to move without waking her but he should have known by now. She was a light sleeper.

“Hmm…Telemachus…?” she whispered, “What’s wrong? It’s too early”

“Go back to sleep, my love…” Telemachus smiled, putting a robe over his body, “It’s early. I just…I need to check on him before I move to the hall…”

“Hmm…Okay…” Nausicaa stretched herself, “I will follow you later. Shall I order for your bath to be prepared?”

“Oh, yes, please” the King of Ithaca smiled, “I will need it to clear my head a bit”

Fixing a bit his messy hair and beard with his fingers, Telemachus marched across the hall. He didn’t spot Odysseus. Usually his father would wake before the crack of dawn (habit he picked from his years at war along with his old age) and he would rouse the servants to start the day. Then he had the habit of going to Perseptolis and wake him up for his lessons before walking out to the gardens. This alone had him worried. Had his father more to drink than they thought that he needed to stay in bed longer? He moved to the olive tree chamber.

“Father” he called from the door, “Are you awake yet?”

He got no response. That was strange. His father was not a heavy sleeper and he certainly wasn’t THAT drunk the night before so that he would be in a deep sleep. He walked in without thinking much.

“Father, come on, the day has begun time to…”

His voice froze. Odysseus was indeed in bed, covered with his favorite blanket. One of his arms was outside of it, as if he had reached for something before. He was unmoving, circled by fallen leaves and olive flowers. His face looked pale and his lips were smiling. He looked like sleeping indeed; a peaceful sleep and yet he was unmoving. Cold. Frozen.

“F-Father…?”

Telemachus cared to touch the wrinkled cheek of his father. It was cold to the touch.

“No…” he whispered tears burning his eyes

He felt his chest twitch by sobs. Suddenly he was a child again, crying tears plenty and salty like the sea. He sat on the edge of the olive bed, slowly lifting that old body in his arms, placing his lips upon his forehead and the top of his head. He let more tears flow upon that cold, lifeless body. More burning sensation down his throat as his fears had been confirmed.

“Liar…!” he whispered between his sobbing, “L-Liar…! The last thing you said to me…was a lie…! F-Father…! Gods…”

Why was he crying so much? His father was old. He had reached his 80th year of life. None of the kings he knew ever lived that long. Not even his grandfather Icarius who was alive when he was 20. And yet Telemachus knew…he had lost the last family he had. Right now he truly was alone.

“Gods…!” he whispered sobbing, “H-Hermes…Argophontes…p-please take care of his soul…P-Persephone…accept my father down to your embrace…!”

His father was dead. He would never hear his voice again; his laughter, his advice, his stories from war and his trips… He was orphaned now. He thought he was 20 years prior and yet now that he lived with his father for so long and bonded with him his loss was much more painful than he would ever think of, even if he was prepared theoretically for his passing. Nausicaa barged into the room with some of her handmaidens.

“Telemachus what takes you… Oh…”

She saw her husband, holding his father and crying as if he were a baby that had lost his favorite puppy; not able to part with it upon the face of death. She didn’t need her intelligence to know. Odysseus, the son of Laërtes had finally met his inevitable death.

“Cry for your king…” Telemachus whispered, acknowledging their presence in the room, “Come, women! Mourn! Mourn and cry, paint your faces with tears and ash. The King of Cephallinians is dead!”

The slaves released a wail of sorrow and released their hairs from their headpieces, pulling them with both their hands, tearing their clothes and cheeks and beating their chests and knees with their hands. The sorrow was presented so typically and yet Telemachus wanted to believe they weren’t pretending. Odysseus was beloved to his household. He wanted to believe they truly cried with him. He saw Nausicaa, his wife, trying to hold her composure, for him, for their position. But her eyes were tearful. She approached him, placing her soft hand on his large shoulder.

“Go…” she murmured to him, “Go…you must cleanse yourself from the miasma of death and announce it to the world…that he passed to the realm of the One of Many Names. Leave the mourning and funeral to us…it is our job”

Telemachus’s answer was a moan of pain. He didn’t want to let him go. Not yet. He was barely sobbing; barely audible and yet Nausicaa could hear him clearly over the mourning of the women who wailed and cried for their dead king.

“Go, my love…” she repeated, “You must do your duty…”

For a moment her thoughts ran to her own father; how would she feel if she were this close as Telemachus was to his own? She lifted the thoughts away. She had to stand by her husband for this. She owed him this much. Telemachus slowly and reluctantly placed his father back to his pillows. He began walking away, being patted on the back by his wife for consolation.

“Oh…h-his blanket…we must let him keep…his blanket…” he mumbled

“He will” Nausicaa assured him, “Go, please!”

She then turned to the maids still mourning.

“Go, fetch water from the sea and oils and ointments! We must prepare the king for his final destination! And bring sage and sulphous to cleanse this place from the miasma of death. Go! All of you!”

And she was left alone. Only then she let her tears flow down her cheeks as she approached the death bed and leaned over the dead king.

“So…you finally decided it was time to leave…” she whispered, “You left…again… Like you did to me the first time…touched our hearts and minds…and left…”

Her hand hovered for a second. She hesitated, possibly her natural aversion towards death; perhaps the feelings she had once hosted in her heart she had kept to herself in her youth kind of reminded her of the man she saved at her land so many years ago. Eventually she touched his white, curly locks and cold cheek, lovingly; soothing the details.

“And…” she suppressed a sob, “You were right…I truly weren’t the one for you… If you had let me love you more than what I already did then… now this moment would seem unbearable to me. You were right. Of course you were. Our difference in age was indeed that great… And you brought me a husband, someone that I loved with all my heart…who gave me love in return…who gave me my beautiful boy, whom you named…and helped us raise…”

She stopped to mop some tears from her cheeks.

“I will take care of him…” she promised, “Your precious Telemachus…and your grandson…I will do my best to make them happy… I promise you with all my heart…”

She leaned down and placed her lips upon that cold forehead, releasing her tears once more.

“Goodbye for now…my first love…” she finally whispered

The day seemed gray and cloudy for everyone that day. The palace was set for deep mourning as everyone was crying for the king that passed away. Women wore their black and dark gray dresses and men did the same. The palace smelt of incense and sage that was sending away the miasma of death and flowers were arranged as well as the personal belongings of the king that he would have with him in the tomb. The King and the Queen were doing their best to keep the ceremony according to the greatness the name of Odysseus bore to the island and to the rest of the kingdom. Nausicaa was worried about Telemachus. He always was a quiet and reserved person but after he received the news and discovered the body of his father he hardly spoke a word to anyone apart from the typical words to the servants that organized the funeral and to prepare everything for the funerary rites and games for the glory of his father’s passing. There was a shadow all over his features and Nausicaa didn’t like that. Not that she was afraid that Telemachus would despair; he was far too strong for that, but he was also sensitive and he was very close to his father plus it wasn’t the death itself that made him so. There seemed to be a million questions in his eyes and Nausicaa was afraid of them. They seemed to be questions he had reserved for years. These were her thoughts as she walked into their room already dressed for the funeral.

“Telemachus…everyone is ready…”

She stopped in her tracks before what she saw. Telemachus was sitting on a chair, already dressed in gray and black and had a razor in his hand…several small strands of hair to the floor. Half of his long till shoulders hair was already cut. She eyed him and he eyed her. Somehow words didn’t seem needed.

“Can you help me…?” Telemachus asked almost immediately, “I can’t do this on my own…”

She smiled sadly.

“Give me the razor…” she said

With soft yet capable fingers she slowly combed his long hair and half-braided it in one braid, trying to get a better view on the shape of them and then began to cut, one by one the rope-like curls of her husband’s.

“You’re very good at this…” Telemachus whispered

Nausicaa smiled sadly.

“I helped several of my slave girls cut their hair before….” She said as a matter of fact

“Ah…that explains it…”

His voice was low, almost nonchalant.

“Everyone is almost here” Nausicaa spoke again, “The funeral will be exactly as you want it, my love…”

She felt his wide shoulders tense; as if they suddenly were weighted down by something.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

The question hovered in the air like a terrible accusation. His voice was hoarse from sorrow and crying but it also hid plenty of frustration; anger even…plenty of unasked “why”s and “how”s in his manner. The sudden, direct question after almost two decades of marriage left her shocked.

“What…?”

“Please!” Telemachus suddenly exploded, “No more lies! I had enough of lies!”

His voice was almost trembling. He seemed ready to cry again.

“Don’t you think I didn’t notice? How you looked at him? My father! You loved him, don’t deny it!”

“Telemachus…I…”

“Nausicaa!” suddenly Telemachus looked at her and his eyes were piercing his soul, “Did you love me because I look like my father?”

The razor remained in her hands but his words cut much deeper than any blade would have. Such a direct and painful question! Was this what he was holding in his heart all these years?

“Telemachus…” she whispered, “Why do you hurt me this much? How could you say this to me!”

“Answer me!” Telemachus urged, “Did you love me because I look like him?”

“That’s not what happened, Telemachus!”

She sighed trying to collect her thoughts. She feared this day would come but she had prayed with all her heart it never would.

“I loved your father…” she finally whispered, “From the first time I saw him that day when he showed up before me; shipwrecked, ragged and naked; hit by the sea and fate… I loved him, yes, my father wanted him to marry me. I wouldn’t have said no. But your father didn’t love me, not like that. He wanted to come here, back to his wife…to you. Then one day, years later he came back to our island. He had the proposal for me I would come here. He looked at me in the eyes and said Nausicaa I never forgot my promise to you; for you gave me life and you deserve to be paid back for the good that you did to me. I cannot be your husband but I have found you a husband more suitable…a better man than what I ever wished to be. Come with me if you shall meet him and I bring to you the wedding gifts needed for your noble father…”

She sighed once, lost in her own recollections.

“That’s how he spoke and his words were soft like snowflakes at a first snowfall at the end of autumn. His rejection hurt me. But I trusted him and he took me with him and brought me here…to meet you…”

Her fingers hesitatingly started their work again, cutting her husband’s hair short.

“It is true that you drew my attention because you looked like your father; the man that inspired love in my heart for the first time in my life as a young, inexperienced woman that I was…However, Telemachus…” she brought her hand to her mouth to stop a moan from rising, she had to be strong, “I didn’t love you for that. I loved you because you are different from your father”

He looked at her. His blue eyes almost liquid; like a trapped animal waiting its doom.

“What?”

“You are not your father, Telemachus, your father was right. You are a far better man; kinder, softer, considerate of others… Yes, you do not have his renounced name or cunning but you have your wisdom, your heart…your ability to see good in people… I was drawn to you because you looked like your father…the reason I loved you, the reason I was so happy that I bore your child and rule this kingdom by your side is because you are totally different…”

She held his face in her hands.

“You are you, Telemachus…” she said emphatically, “Never doubt this, for Odysseus never did…”

And then she saw Telemachus come undone. Tears flowed out of his eyes; tears of relief and thankfulness. It was as if the thing he held inside him all these years stopped bothering him anymore; one less pain for him to feel now. He kissed his wife’s hand and palm and Nausicaa felt his lips burning. It was his way to apologize for his fears and doubts. For one more time words were not needed between them. The past that haunted them was there no more.

“There…” Nausicaa said, “I am done…”

Telemachus looked at his now shorter curls to the bronze spectrum. He touched his head with his hand.

“Thank you, you did very good job…”

“Looks good on you…” Nausicaa noted, running her fingers through it

“I seriously hope so…” Telemachus said, “For this shall be my haircut from now on”

His wife looked at him questionably.

“This world lost the last great man of the first of Troy…” Telemachus whispered, “I finally lost my father whom I thought dead for 20 years and I lived with for other 20… I shall mourn for him for 20 more to come…till my last breath…”

Nausicaa teared up but she smiled.

“If that’s what you wish, husband, I have nothing more to say…”

Telemachus stood up and placed the golden circlet around his head.

“Let’s go…” he said, “Our guests are here…it is time for the funeral…”

The King of Cephallinians was set upon his deathbed, dressed in his finest clothes and armor, like the warrior he was all his life. His head was adorned by a red-plumed helmet adorned with boar tusks. His sigil ring with the dolphin was on his finger. His bronze sword by his side and the golden mask covering his face. The obolus was already placed between his teeth for the boatman to let him pass; the locks of hair of his loved ones under his hands. Odysseus shone, just like radiant people of his land perceived him during the war of Troy… The body was lying upon the shroud made by Nausicaa and the precious blanket made by Penelope. Odysseus was seen off by his wife and daughter; the daughter that had given him his precious grandchild. The procession was moving slow, with the bed being lifted by the most faithful servants he had (two of them were the sons of Philoetius and two the sons of Eumeus with the wives Odysseus himself had picked for them). The women were mourning and chanting as the priest and prophets were singing their hymns to Persephone and the rebirth of the underworld. Behind them came the royal family. Telemachus walked steadfast and proud; his tall and well-built physique and he looked even paler as his already pale skin was toned up by the black on his clothes and the thick black beard. Nausicaa was also dressed in gray and had her cheeks scratched according to custom, shedding silent tears when she could. Their son, Perseptolis following with his tutor, Theoklymenos (the man Telemachus once saved). He seemed sad and confused. His grandfather would no longer play with him or show him things or teach him or promise him the trees that were for him after he would be gone… Now he really was gone and Perseptolis didn’t know how to take it. He only knew he had to be strong for his father who seemed to suffer the most.

Telemachus looked at the side as they moved upon the high rocks. He thought he saw a little girl sitting by the rock, one leg hanging from the edge and the other drawn to her chest. Her short, blondish hair was curly like his and her physique small and frail. She only had one black dress on her that reached till her skinny knees. And yet Telemachus could have sworn the girl was looking at him. He could see her shiny her gray eyes despite the distance. Her eyes seemed almost tearful and yet they were not. Telemachus felt the power in his veins emitted from that presence. His eyes watered and then he shed a tear. It was as if he shed the tear the girl couldn’t physically shed. He bowed his head at her as if by instinct. He averted his eyes for one second and the next the girl was gone as if she was never there. They reached the tomb and the slaves opened it. Telemachus felt his heart clench. He had opened that monument before when he buried his mother. And now his father had come to join her. He watched the slaves place the funeral bed inside, according to his instructions; leave it by the side of Penelope. He felt a squeeze in his hand from his wife. He squeezed it back. The prayers and cries became louder as the rock shielded the monument anew. Telemachus closed his eyes to fight back the tears.

It was done…

His father was to his final home…

The funerary banquet had everything their hearts could desire. Telemachus was more than generous as the meat of the sacrifice was also well-cooked and served. He had also ordered the best pig and the fattest goats to be slaughtered and cooked. There was also fish and vegetables and a variety of legumes to feed the guests. He had also picked the best wine from the kingdom and Scheria to offer to his guests.

Odysseus was a good host. He was entertaining for one last time.

Telemachus knew the dead man was the host and they were all eating and drinking to his name. He wanted to offer him the good passing; make sure he knew they would remember him; that they would be happy in his name and continue their life. And then the funerary matches happened. There was a running and a discus throw race with rich gifts given to the three contestants to win. Then there was a wrestling match and a sword fight. Telemachus watched and never intervened. He congratulated the winners and awarded them, he also thanked those who lost and praised them for their talents and efforts. The celebrations were about to finish when Telemachus stood up. Everyone fell silent. Telemachus removed a key hanging from his neck and passed it to his wife.

“My wife…” he said, “Take this key and please go down to the armory. Fetch me my father’s old bow. Tell the servants to bring the hollow axes!”

The sound of surprise passed like aura over the waves of the sea. The request was so sudden; so unexpected. And yet no one felt like refusing.

“Are you sure?” Nausicaa asked

Telemachus stood proud; steadfast. Certain.

“I am.”

And the Queen of Ithaca smiled. She took the key and moved to the old armory and unlocked it. On the wall there was the infamous heavy bow of which she had heard so many stories of. She took it in her hands, as if she lifted the sacred clothes to dress the statue of a god and carried it out. Telemachus took it in his strong hand. He hesitated. What if he wasn’t worthy of it? What if he became ridiculed by the entire kingdom for his request to use it? He shook his head and grasped the bow with both hands. He warmed the fat to the flame and smeared the wood; making sure it would be soft so it wouldn’t be cracked and then he pulled. The wood creaked and moaned; Telemachus felt sweat peaking to his forehead and yet the bow barely moved a bit. Telemachus felt his body tensing. No! He couldn’t give up!

“Why! Why can’t I…? Oh, gods…forgive me, father…maybe I am not worthy of your legacy after all…”

“Telemachus…”

It was a voice; an ethereal and heavenly female voice that echoed deep inside him. He looked to the side. The magnificent woman wearing the radiant bronze and gold armor; with the gorgoneion adorning her chest over her green aegis; the double-plumed helmet shining gold and a spear in hand. Her skin was clear and pore-less, iridescent even; often white as ivory often gaining a light color as the sun moved on it.

“Athena!”

Pallas Athena stood there, smiling softly; invisible and unheard to everyone else but him. Her hand touched his shoulder. Telemachus nearly felt a fire in his chest.

“Don’t forget, Telemachus… Your father was a strong man but his real strength was not his arms or legs or the power of his body. Think, Telemachus…and you shall have your answer…”

And then Telemachus knew. Somehow he felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner! He set the bow on the ground and passed his strong leg through it and then he bended the bow using his body as a lever. The gasps he heard and the smile of the patron goddess of his father, no, his family, gave him strength anew as the bow bended slowly yet steadily. Telemachus grabbed the string and passed it through and then he knew… He had managed to solve his father’s puzzle. It never was about strength. Not entirely. The answer was there all along. He tested the string. It played the tune of a well-tuned lyre, ready to sing anew after so long.

“Bring the axes…” he ordered

“Shall we use all 12, master?” the servant asked (He was Autologos, the son of Philoetius).

“No” Telemachus said, “Bring more”

“M-More, master?” the man almost chocked, “H-How many?”

“Twenty” Telemachus answered with a confidence he never felt before. “Twenty years I lost my father…twenty years I had him. Twenty shall be the axes of my test”

Once more his words were heard. His mind ran back to his youth where the blasted suitors would ignore his pleas or orders. Now his voice was heard; his orders were followed. Right now he knew he was a changed man. He had grown over the years. He watched the axes set in equal distances and then grabbed the bow. His strong arms and back worked to pull the string. He aimed. He stood there for a few seconds. His limbs had gained strength anew; something he felt flattering in his heart. It was like a primitive fire inside him; the spirit of his father; the spirit of his goddess! He released a breath, like the breath of a soul leaving the body and then the arrow was released.

The bow sang once more like a swallow

The arrow whistled in the air

Passed through the axes.

It got stuck to the tree behind them.

Telemachus slowly, almost in a ritual manner, lowered the bow. He drew a deep breath; the flowers of the mountain, the salt of the sea, the smell of the animals and crops. He smelt Ithaca. Yes, he knew now more than ever this place gave strength. He understood now. And now it was totally his to keep and protect. And he would protect it to his last breath! His eyes were no longer tearful. His heart was light.

Have a good rest… My King…Odysseus…Man of Many Wiles…Man Much Tormented… Sacker of Cities…King of Ithaca…King of Cephallinians…

Goodbye…

Father…

***

So this request is finally done... Unfortunately the reason I was so inspired to finish it was because today I lost one good conversation partner here on Tumblr for they deleated their account. They couldn't stand the toxicity of some people attacking them They were one of the few people getting out of their way to read my stories and ACTUALLY leave lengthy and meaningful comments under them for discussion and that meant so much to me. Now unfortunately their comments are gone and their account deactivated and couldn't even say a proper goodbye to them deleating their account for they were THAT eager to get out of this... I hope I shall see them in the future but still all the amazing comments and conversations we had no longer will be there... So yes inspiration for this request.

I combined funerary customs of Bronze Age times such as the tombs that were opened and re-opened to put new individuals in as much as we theorize but also the prothesis and funerary meals and games that we see in Homer and in later archaic and classical Greece.

And as you see here we have also the choice of Nausicaa as the mother of Perseptolis (an idea discussed with @ditoob too among others along with them expressing the need to see more stuff on mature Telemachus out there)

Some Nausicaa and Telemachus drama too.

Special thanks to @cr4zy-cycl0n3 for their comment to the second part of the main story and @styberusartz to the first one. And as always @loco-bird account!

Working also on ideas with @artsofmetamoor as always!

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starogeorgina · 1 year ago

Text

Heart of glass

Warning: Smut, swearing

Pairing: Helaena Targaryen × Targaryen OC

1.02

You take in the sea air while watching as your dragon, the cannibal, devours a few sheep nearby. Your dragon only briefly stops eating to raise its head and hiss as someone walks up behind you. Cannibal observes for a few moments, making sure you are safe, before returning his attention back to his prayer.

“Your dragon must be the most terrifying in the world,” Jacaerys says, sitting down beside you on the damp grass outside.

“The she-dragon bonded with your uncle is still alive from Aegon’s conquest, and my father's is pretty war-hardened.”

“I’d much rather face Vhagar and Caraxes than the cannibal.”

“I hear dragons grow while staying in Dragonstone; perhaps he will become bigger,” you grin.

Jacaerys stares at you blankly for a moment before laughing. He makes polite small talk with you, but you knew he had an alternative motive for coming out and joining you in the murky weather. Eventually, you grow tired of waiting for him to say whatever is on his mind. You place your hand atop his and ask, “Jace, what is it you want to ask me?”

He looks down at the grass and says, “I’ve noticed you haven’t spent much time with the ladies, Baela and Rhaena.”

Snarkily, you ask, “Did my father or your mother send you out here?”

“Neither. I’m bringing it up because you don’t seem happy.”

You desperately wanted to get to know your sisters but always felt like an outsider from the moment your father remarried shortly after your mother's death, so you returned to Runestone. When Lady Laena died, you thought it would be the perfect opportunity to reunite with your family, but on the same day as his late wife’s funeral, you saw your father and Rhaenyra redressing on the beach. Even though you were a child, you knew what had just transpired between them. Solidify your opinion of them. Any visits since that day have been political and fleeting.

You were only two years older than Jace, but much more free-natured than him. He always found it shocking that you just did whatever you wanted without consulting Daemon, whereas he did nothing without his mother's approval, something that you actually respected him for. He took his duties as son of the heir very seriously.

You rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re more my brother than they are my sisters.”

Jace wraps his arm around your shoulder. He was the only one who truly knew how hurt you were on the inside. Jacaerys was the sibling and friend you needed; he understood you like nobody else. You had stayed in touch over the years, sending each other ravens and gifts; he was your only connection to your family on Dragonstone. He was the only one who informed you of important things, such as Rhaenyra being with a child again or that your sisters were to marry the eldest Velaryon boys.

“You should dine with us tonight,” Jace says softly. “I know Luke and Joff would enjoy your company.”

He had a point: in the two weeks you’d be on the island, you hadn’t once dined with them. You look up at the sky and smile, seeing that the sun is about to disappear. “Perhaps in the morning, I have somewhere to be right now.”

You slap Jace on the thigh playfully before getting to your feet and walking towards your dragon.

“Where do you go every night?” He calls out.

You doubted the young prince would approve of your secret friends with a benefit arrangement with his auntie. Laughing, you say, “I could tell you, but then I’d need to feed you to my dragon afterwards.”

“I look forward to seeing you while we break fast in the morning.” Jace shakes his head, but the corner of his lips still pulls into a smile despite him pretending to disapprove of your actions.

—

You grin hearing Helaena moan as you greedily suck her clit into your mouth; her back arches as you do. She looked so beautiful as she approached her second orgasm of the night, and your only goal was to make sure she reached her peak many more times before the sun rose again.

Helaena made the sweetest noises as she rutted against your face. She cums hard, her legs shivering around your head as she rides out her orgasm. Pulling back, you admire the slick glistening down her folds and swipe your finger along it, then teasing her clit with your thumb.

Helaena giggles, “Come here, sweetling.”

“That sounds like an order from my princess,” you say, kissing up her leg.

“Mayhaps.”

When you reach her collarbone, the pretty princess tilts your head up and captures your lips with her own soft ones. She smiles into the kiss. “I have an idea, something I’d like to try... if that’s okay?”

A smirk plays on your lip. “Anything you want, dārilaros, I shall do.”

Her pale cheeks redden. “I saw it in a brothel once—two women pleasuring each other at the same time.”

“Anything you want,” you say, kissing the tips of her fingers.

Helaena pecks you on the lips before gently pushing you until you are lying on your back. She moved up the bed until her knees rested on either side of your head. She lowered herself until her cunt was right above your mouth. You take the opportunity and dive your tongue into her. Helaena was the sweetest thing you’d ever tasted. She lets out a soft moan before leaning down, so press a soft kiss to your clit before swiping her tongue through your folds.

You groan loudly when she adds a finger, “fuck!”

You two stay in that position, licking, sucking, and fingering each other's tight holes until you both cum.

The rest of the night you and Helaena spent tangled in the sheets of the tavern together, like you had every night for the last two weeks. You didn’t always have sex; some nights you just talked or, in the dead of night, would go dragon riding together. Seeing daylight starting to creep through the window, you knew it was time to go.

“Sorry, princess, but I believe our time is up.” You give her one last passionate kiss before standing to get dressed.

While you dressed in the clothes you wore over, including a dark black cloak to hide your face, you noticed Helaena holding a book. She looked slightly nervous before handing it to you. “I was in the library searching for a book to read to Jaehaerys and Jaehaera and found this; I thought you might like it.”

You feel slightly stunned as she places it in your hand.

“It’s a book on wild dragons,” she says, standing to redress. “He was the largest and oldest of the three wild dragons dwelling on Dragonstone; the Cannibal was black as coal, with menacing green eyes.”

“Does it actually say that about my dragon?” You ask while flipping the book open to see for yourself.

“Yes, the book is mainly about the cannibal, Sheepstealer, and Grey Ghost.”

“This is... thank you, it's a wonderful gift.”

A warm sensation you weren’t familiar with filled your belly—a fuzzy, warm feeling. It meant a lot to you that the princess not only remembered the part about your own dragon but also the fact she saw it and thought of you—it suddenly occurred to you that you may be starting to develop feelings beyond just a friendship with Helaena.

—

All eyes are on you as you sit down beside Jacaerys to break fast. Chatter resumes once again until your father loudly and sarcastically says, “How kind of you to finally join us, daughter.”

Amused by his reaction, you reach for an apple that was on the table, smiling, before taking a bite out of it. Rhaenyra lets out a deep sigh and calmly says, “Everyone out.”

When you go to stand, your father says, “Not you, Vissera.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit back down and take another bite from the apple in your hand. Jace pats you on the shoulder on his way out, then gives you a look that silently says ‘drop the attitude’ which causes you to chuckle. You tried to list off what your father could possibly discuss with you in private: Why are you wearing the same clothes as last night? Why aren’t you spending more time with your sisters? Why are you avoiding me? Why do you hate my wife so much?

You notice Rhaenyra biting at her nails nervously. You wondered briefly if she found it as painful to be around you as you did. You break the silence and say, “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They share a look, and your father rubs at his forehead. “I would have told you sooner if you had actually spoken to me and to us.”

You shrug. “What difference does it make? You don’t seem to care when I’m not here.”

“That’s because you make it impossible. You refuse all invitations, ignore my ravens, and last time I tried to visit you, your dragon almost ate me.”

“He’s protective of me.”

“I’m your father,” your father snaps, slamming his hands against the table.

The atmosphere suddenly becomes a lot more tense; even Rhaenyra seems taken aback by her husband's outburst. She steps back as her hand rests on her invisible bump protectively. You hadn’t meant to rile your father up so much that he scared her.

Quietly, you say, “You’re a stranger to me.”

Rhaenyra gives you a sympathetic look as she hands you the scroll. “Yesterday, a raven arrived for Daemon from the keep. Queen Alicent would like to betroth a marriage between you and her son, Prince Aemond.”

Dārilaros - Princess

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