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dawnwriterimagines · 5 months ago

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Traitors Among Us

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Part Three: The Guilty Plea

Part Four: The Verdict Due

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #ghost x yn #call of duty x reader #cod angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #simon riley angst x reader

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acid-ixx · 5 months ago

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ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.

i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.

why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.

is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.

i don't want to pray anymore.

so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—

i hate you."

"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."

you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.

"alfr-"

a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.

salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.

you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.

"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."

"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"

his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.

you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.

alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.

it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.

you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.

and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.

it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.

it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.

the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.

you pose secrets that speak of the underground.

he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.

you stared at nothing.

not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.

it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.

what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.

you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.

(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.

he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.

yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.

you were more like batman than you were bruce.

alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.

when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.

the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.

alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.

yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.

the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.

"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.

the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.

yet you do not display pain.

a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.

you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.

the world does not deserve someone like you.

alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.

through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.

even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.

you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.

another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.

"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.

a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.

the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.

alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.

you could only hear yourself.

"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"

you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.

"no—" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."

it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.

he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.

despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.

you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.

everything hurts, it truly does.

you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.

you at least try to stifle your sobs—

"happy birthday, master (name)."

— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.

you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.

it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.

though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.

"alfred?"

it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.

"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.

"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"

... (name) wayne was full of surpises.

even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.

you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.

but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.

except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.

when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.

it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.

he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.

alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.

"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"

alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.

"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...

— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."

alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.

you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.

but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.

it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.

it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.

but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.

and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.

alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.

he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.

"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.

"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."

alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.

he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.

and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.

he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.

in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.

alfred misses you.

does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.

but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.

it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.

yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.

for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.

even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.

it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.

before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.

bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.

in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.

his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.

that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.

he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.

he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.

"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.

"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.

but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.

bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.

it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.

if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.

he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.

"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.

"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."

huh?

"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"

"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."

... (name)?

ah, his... other child.

alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.

it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.

"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"

alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.

"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.

"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"

to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.

"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."

at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—

but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?

shit, what grade are you in?

why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—

"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"

"roughly six or seven months ago, master."

"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."

"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."

eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.

it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.

his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?

alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.

bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened

the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.

he denies himself of any relief.

"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.

so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.

"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."

if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.

but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.

and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.

bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.

also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)

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nebulaafterdark · 5 months ago

Text

The Rats Pt. 2

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Part 1

“Princess Y/N of house Velaryon.” The guard announces.

Rhaenyra’s heart skips a beat, surely he is mistaken.

“Mother,” Y/N says, racing toward her. “Your grace,” she corrects herself.

Rhaenyra wraps her eldest child in her arms. “Mother will do just fine.”

Y/N buries her face in Rhaenyra’s shoulder.

“How did you get here?” Aegon would never let her go of his own free will.

“Daemon,” Y/N breathes. Knowing that her stepfather will owe her for the half truth.

“Where are the children?”

“In King’s Landing.” Y/N tells her, “to keep Aegon’s wits about him in my absence. He wants to come to an agreement, he’s more than willing to bend the knee. I only ask that he and Helaena be spared…as for Aemond Targaryen, he is a murderer.” Y/N’s voice breaks, “we will avenge the murder of my brother.”

Rhaenyra’s strokes a hand over her hair, feeling the dark waves that remind her of Lucerys. “Aegon and Helaena will receive full pardons based on your testimony. Rest assured I appreciate what you have done on my behalf.”

“Thank you.” Y/N pulls back marginally, realizing her mother’s pregnant belly should be between them. “Where is the babe?”

Rhaenyra shakes her head.

Y/N covers her mouth with her hand, “I am terribly sorry.”

“It is no fault of yours, darling girl.”

“I should have been here with you.”

“When I offered your hand in marriage, I had no idea Aegon was capable of love. It has complicated all of this.”

Y/N nods, “speaking of my husband. I should send word that I am well, lest he take out his frustration on Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra taps her chin, affectionately. “I will fetch a scroll.”

————————————————————————-

Aegon’s youngest son is the only one of his children to share Y/N’s dark locks. His wife insisted they name him Aegon. After my dearest love. She said.

Aegon agreed of course as he can deny her nothing. The child wails nonstop, in the absence of his mother. At all of four months old, Aegon is the only one who can quiet him besides Y/N. As such, the King is now attending the small council meeting with a babe in his arms.

Their daughter, Dahlia, the eldest of the twins will sit the iron throne one day, through his line of succession and Rhaenyra’s. At all of six, she is sitting at the table. His other children Visera and Laenor have not been properly protected under the guard, they too must stay in his sightline.

“Gods be good.” Alicent frowns at her son.

“What is it?” Aegon huffs, arching a brow at her.

“The small council is no place for children, your grace.” Alicent explains. “They would be better tended by their maids.”

Aegon nods, “right. As you all know, two nights ago, the Princess Helaena was attacked in the children’s chambers. Our heirs were threatened and Queen Y/N was taken from us. During which time, not a single guard could be found on the entirety of the royal floor! Because you were-”

Aegon looks to his children in turn, “cover your ears my darlings.” He smiles, waiting until they have done as they’re told, holding his own hand over his infant’s ear. “Where were we, mother? Oh, that’s right, no one was guarding my children because you were fucking the royal guard.”

The council members lower their heads in acknowledgement.

“The men who carried out this attack, entered under the guise of rat catching. I want them found and swiftly executed.” Aegon demands, patting his sleeping son’s leg.

“We have been interrogating rat catchers for days, thus far we have no leads.” Otto explains.

A slow smile spreads over the King’s face. “Then hang them all.”

Alicent blanches.

“Anything else?” Aegon asks, watching Visera begin toying with Otto’s chair.

“A letter arrived from Dragonstone, your grace.” Lord Tyland informs him.

“Oh?” Aegon says, “from Rhaenyra?”

“From Queen Y/N.”

Aegon swallows, “did you read it?”

“No, my King.”

“Good,” Aegon reaches for the rolled parchment.

‘My dearest Aegon,

Please know that I am well. We would like to begin negotiations to end the blockade and create a peaceful transfer of power. This will require your cooperation, I hope you will meet me at Dragonstone to discuss this matter farther.

Forever yours,

Y/N’

Aegon exhales, sharply.

“What is it, your grace?”

“The children and I are off to Dragonstone.”

“Whatever for?”

“To negotiate the terms of Y/N’s return.”

“My King…”

“And if you cannot agree on said terms?” Alicent asks.

Aegon frowns, lifting a shoulder. “To war then.”

“He is unhinged,” Otto whispers to his daughter.

“As I warned he would be.” Alicent rises from her seat. “He is quite…devoted to her.”

————————————————————————

“It has been three days since you sent word to King’s Landing. We must assume Aegon’s silence is his response.” Daemon seethes, around the drawing table.

“Give it time.” Y/N insists, “you owe me that.”

Daemon smirks, “I owe you nothing, spoiled thing.”

“Mmm,” Y/N hums. “My mother does not yet know how I came to be here.”

“And you are not going to tell her. Otherwise, my distaste for your usurping cunt of a husband will be demonstrated at length.”

Sunfyre roars, calling their attention to the nearest window.

Daemon huffs, “I’ll be damned.”

“And he’s brought the children.” Y/N rejoices, running out to join her family.

Jacaerys is already helping to unload her children from the makeshift carriage on the dragon’s saddle.

“Mother!” Dahlia and Visera charge Y/N nearly knocking her backwards.

Laenor runs after them with his little legs as Aegon the fourth, stares at her, babbling in his father’s arms.

Y/N is moved to tears, “you came.”

“You didn’t think I would?” Aegon cocks his head to the side.

“It’s a rather large ask,” Y/N explains.

“For you, the world.” He replies, with a kiss to her temple. “Now, where is Rhaenyra? We have much to discuss.”

“Her grace will join us soon.”

Aegon nods, “I request a small audience, before the council.”

“That can be arranged.”

“After which your brother might tend the children whilst you show me your quarters.” Aegon whispers.

Y/N smirks, “of course.”

Part 3

Taglist: @minttea07 @callsignwidow @fallout-girl219 @syraxnyra @vickynephilim @jeondeluxe111 @geeksareunique @arya-brooke @7minutes-tomidnight

#house of the dragon #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon smut #aegon fanfic

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cntloup · 9 months ago

Text

18+ MDNI Price hiring Ghost to teach his bratty daughter, you a lesson

Part 2

He trusts him with his life. He knows he's a good man and would never really hurt you.

And he's a man. Not one of those boys that you sneak out with. He's a seasoned soldier. He's seen some shit. He's been through hell and back. He won't stand your bratty behavior one bit.

So basically Ghost is there to babysit a grown woman. And Price has given him the green light to do anything he saw fit with you.

Your mouth hangs open and your eyes widen the moment you set eyes on him. DAMN he's huge. And the mask is terrifying. And frankly a bit (a lot) arousing.

He threatens to get you on his lap the moment you act up and start whining which makes you act up even more.

"I need to go shopping. Where's my dad's credit card? I know I had it." "No you don't. And it's over, princess. No more access to his bank account."

You gasp dramatically and within seconds you're sobbing and squealing out incoherent words.

"Shh, princess. C'mere." he coos as he brings you to sit on his lap. He places your head on his chest, brushing his fingers through your hair as you bawl your eyes out until you pass out.

But him being soft with you does not last long as you get more comfortable around him and throw tantrums more often. And he's had it with the goddamn banshee screams.

That's when you end up on his lap almost every night. One hand holding your hip so you can't squirm away and one big strong palm hitting against your ass so hard, the sound reverberates through the room mixing with your cries and screams.

If you ever start whining about a boy, he just shushes you with a warning and goes on with his day, but if you ever try to sneak out, that's when you end up on all fours as he slaps your pussy repeatedly until you're a whining mess, both because of the pain, also the heat and slick between your legs.

And if you've been extra bratty that day, that's when he gets his cock out, slowly sliding through your folds, teasing you. Then he suddenly slams his fat cock into your soaking wet pussy as you let out sobs of pain and pleasure, muffled by the pillows.

And he starts moving without letting you adjust, hips slamming against your ass with full force, your needy little pussy stretched out so wide, the aching pleasure of his thick veiny cock dragging along your sensitive walls, so sweet and delicious.

And he cums inside. His thick warm cum filling up your womb. Not afraid to get you pregnant. Maybe you'll be less bratty then.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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lizzyiii · 2 months ago

Note

Hii, are requests open??

Yes, it definitely is!!!

The Dragon's Treasure

pairing | young aemond targaryen x niece!reader

word count | 6.7k words

summary | when you were but four years old, your mother had declared jacaerys as her heir, despite the fact that you were born first. in truth, it was a measure born of love; she knew you, with your striking silver locks and lilac eyes—her sweet daughter—would be safe, whilst her sons would not.

tags | FLUFF, FLUFF, targaryen incest, reader is described to have silver hair and lilac eyes (that's all), very very soft aemond, and after fluff comes ANGST, ANGST and more ANGST, also reader is a sensitive queen.

a/n | wrote this in 2 days 💪, and there will DEFINITELY be a PART 2

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 3

Duty and shame. These were the threads from which you were woven—not love, nor passion, but the heavy fabric of obligation and regret.

The firstborn of Rhaenyra Targaryen came into the world not as a son with dark hair and brown eyes, but as a daughter, blessed with ethereal lilac eyes that mirrored her mother's lineage and the shining silver curls that heralded her Velaryon heritage.

Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen had fulfilled their solemn duty to conceive an heir. For Rhaenyra, each night was steeped in a prayerful longing to erase the memory of her wedding night—a night marked by discomfort and tears. The truth was evident to all: Laenor's heart was not inclined towards her nor any woman; his desires lay with men. Yet, their obligation demanded they play their parts.

After their hurried nuptials in a clandestine ceremony, they found themselves confined within a chamber, the weight of expectation pressing down upon them. When the act was done, the silence that enveloped them was shattered by Laenor's grief; he collapsed into Rhaenyra’s arms, his body wracked with sobs as he mourned the loss of his beloved, wishing loudly that he could be “normal.” It was in that moment, as she held him close, that the young princess, overwhelmed by the weight of her fate, found herself wishing she could shed her identity, to become someone else entirely.

But when Rhaenyra beheld her daughter for the first time, it was as if the world shifted. A spark of profound love ignited in her heart, banishing the shame that had once gnawed at her spirit during her pregnancy and the painful hours of labor. There had been moments when she had cursed the very life growing within her, moments steeped in bitterness toward the infant she carried. Yet now, cradling her sweet babe—her precious dragon treasure—Rhaenyra understood that she would willingly endure a thousand painful pregnancies for this singular joy.

What a delight you were, a soothing balm for Rhaenyra amidst the swirling intrigues of King’s Landing. It was your voice that first captivated her heart, from the moment your tiny lips could form sounds, you babbled with delight, engaging your mother in joyous conversations, even though she could scarcely grasp what you were saying. Your smiles were a sunbeam that brightened her darkest days; the first time you graced her with a radiant smile, it became a memory she would hold dear until the end of her days.

But as the tides of fate turned, life grew more intricate. Once Rhaenyra and Laenor fulfilled the sacred duty of securing an heir, they were free to pursue their pleasures separately, allowing Rhaenyra to take Harwin Strong into her bed. To Rhaenyra, her time with Harwin had never felt like a mistake, nor the first child they conceived together —Jacaerys Velaryon.

Yet, his hair—dark as the raven's wing— and eyes — brown as the earth—set him apart from Rhaenyra’s lineage, with none of her ethereal silver locks or striking violet eyes. Instead, he bore the unmistakable mark of his mother’s sworn protector, a truth whispered in the shadows of the Red Keep, even as Laenor publicly embraced him as his true son and the rightful heir of Driftmark.

Alas, Rhaenyra found herself repeating the same error. Another son came forth from her union with Harwin—a second boy with hair as dark as night and eyes of rich brown. Lucerys Velaryon. Whispers began to flutter through the court, dark murmurs and scornful jibes accusing her children of being bastards. It was the painful truth, yet Rhaenyra, fiercely protective as any mother, longed for her sons to live free from the burdens of her choices.

And so, Rhaenyra was faced with the most harrowing decision of her life, a choice that would weigh upon her heart for years to come. When you were but four years old, she declared Jacaerys as her heir, despite the fact that you were born first, and had Laenor declare Lucerys the heir of Driftmark. In truth, it was a measure born of love; she knew you, with your striking silver locks and lilac eyes—her sweet daughter—would be safe, while Jace and Luke would forever need her protection in a world that could be mercilessly unforgiving.

In the quiet confines of the Red Keep, a yawning silence enveloped the lesson, a silence only broken by the steady, droning voice of Septa Agertha. As a ten-year-old princess, you found your patience with such tedium wearing thin, particularly in the tedious recitation of the Faith of the Seven—each doctrine blurring into the next, sapping your spirit with every word.

Beside you, your beloved aunt Helaena sat in her own world, her delicate hands guiding the needle in and out of the fabric, her gaze distant as though the colors and threads offered more solace than the dull teachings of the Sept. You could see it in her eyes; the spark of interest had flickered away, leaving a solemn stillness where interest once danced.

Embroidery, you thought, was a most tiresome endeavor—how many times had you pricked your own fingers accidentally? It seemed the needle was always too eager, as if it shared your disdain for the task at hand. Your heart longed for the vibrant strokes of paint on canvas, the joyful freedom of creation, but Septa Agertha had sternly deemed such messiness unfit for a princess of House Targaryen.

"Focus, my princess," Septa Agertha’s voice broke through your wandering thoughts, pulling you back from your reverie. In that moment, you wished for nothing more than a dragon's flight, high above the clouds, far from the confines of the castle and the constraints of your title.

You glanced at your Septa, your expression hesitant as you mustered the courage to speak. “Septa Agertha,” you began, your tone dipped in respect, “mayhaps I might be excused to inquire if my mother has finished her labor?”

The Septa regarded you with a mixture of exasperation and fondness; her demeanor softened as you widened your eyes and pouted just enough to tug at her heartstrings. “Very well, my princess,” she relented with a heavy sigh, “our lesson shall conclude for today.”

A joyful smile bloomed on your face, and you offered a swift, sincere thank you, excitement bubbling within you. Leaning over, you pressed a quick kiss on Helaena’s cheek—a fleeting farewell—before darting toward the door. Your sworn sword, Ser Rowan, steadfast and vigilant, attempted to match your youthful enthusiasm, but your spirit was unbridled and wild, leaving him struggling to keep up.

You raced breathlessly down the corridor, your heart racing with exhilaration, until you reached your mother’s solar. As you reached for the door’s latch, you hesitated, hearing the comforting jingle of Ser Rowan's armor behind you. With a bashful grin, you withdrew your hand, glancing back to find him nearing, his breath coming in measured puffs as he opened the door with a respectful bow.

But as you stepped into the warm chamber, your excitement began to wane. A sudden twinge gripped your young heart at the sight of nearly everyone gathered within your mother’s solar, unbidden thoughts swirling as to why you had not been summoned.

Yet those troubling questions were swiftly banished as you cast your gaze upon your mother, weary and glistening with the exertion of childbirth. Ignoring the soft coos of the newborn cradled in your father’s arms, you dashed toward Rhaenyra, laying your small hand against her damp cheek. “Mother, are you well?” you asked, concern threading through your words.

A tender smile softened Rhaenyra’s features at your worry, and she grasped your hand gently, kissing your palm in a soothing gesture. “I am better now that you are here,” she replied, her voice warm like the sun breaking through the clouds.

You turned at the sound of your brother Luke's voice, a warm smile stretched across his face. "We selected an egg for the babe, and for you as well, sister," he announced, his eyes bright with excitement.

"Ahh," your mother’s voice came softly from your side, laced with affection, "Those look perfect indeed."

"I let Luke choose," Jace declared with a hint of pride.

With a nod and a grin, Luke acknowledged his brother's words, "Thank you, Jace."

"Not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit, Princess," Ser Harwin Strong intoned, his hands clasped thoughtfully before him. "I deemed it fit to escort the lads."

Rhaenyra turned to him, her voice gentle, "Laenor and I thank you, Commander." Her gaze shifted slowly to you, warmth radiating from her eyes. "What do you think, my love?"

Your eyes were drawn to the two shimmering eggs nestled snugly in the hatching pot. You should have felt joy, perhaps excitement, yet a shadow of sadness draped over your young heart. "Why was I not included?"

An uneasy silence fell over the chamber, heavy and palpable. Ser Harwin broke it first, offering a sympathetic smile, “You were busy with your lessons, princess. We did not wish to disturb you.”

"But surely Jace and Luke were occupied with their dragon lessons as well," you replied in a soft voice, the undertone of hurt evident in your words.

Rhaenyra immediately noticed the glimmer of tears pooling in your lilac eyes and the tremble of your lips, as she rushed to uplift your spirits. "Look, my love, it is purple, your favorite color."

No sooner had Rhaenyra spoken than Laenor interjected enthusiastically, “I have a good feeling about this one, my darling. You know what they say—third time’s the charm.”

Third. This was to be your third dragon egg. The first, a vibrant orange, had turned to stone in your cradle, a cruel fate none could have foreseen. The second, a deep crimson egg, had been bestowed upon you with the birth of Luke, yet it too remained unhatched. As you gazed at the violet egg in the pot, hope eluded you, replaced instead by the grim certainty that this egg too would not awaken.

“Now I am certain you would like to meet your new brother,” Rhaenyra murmured, wrapping an affectionate arm around you.

“A boy?” you whispered, your eyes lifting to seek the babe cradled in your father’s arms.

“Yes, my love.”

“Oh.”

Rhaenyra could instantly see the disappointment which weighed heavy on your features at the prospect of yet another brother, and it became ever clearer in your silence. Rather than springing toward your father, you chose instead to nestle deeper into your mother’s embrace, seeking comfort in her warmth.

As you reclined against your mother’s side, you gazed at Ser Harwin, who now cradled your newborn brother, Joffrey. At merely ten summers, you could discern the affection in Ser Harwin's gaze as he looked at Joffrey—a tender look reminiscent of the affection he often bestowed upon your mother. It was a gaze filled with adoration, one he also offered to your other brothers, yet curiously, yet it never seemed to touch you. How curious this felt, a wonder mixed with a hint of sorrow.

When your father ushered your brothers from the chamber, it left a stillness that enveloped you, your mother, Ser Harwin, and the tiny new life nestled in his arms.

“Mayhaps you should return to your lessons now, my love,” Rhaenyra said, her voice soft and melodic, turning her gentle gaze towards you.

A twinge of sorrow flared within you once again, and you glanced up at her, barely able to protest. “But—I just arrived,” you murmured, the longing in your tone betraying your desire to remain by her side.

Ser Harwin, ever the loyal knight, defended your mother, answering with a reassuring tone, “I am certain it is merely that your mother seeks rest, my princess.”

Reluctantly, you eased away from your mother’s embrace, turning slightly so she wouldn’t witness the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “I’ll go find Helaena,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

You heard her sigh, a sound laced with affection and understanding. Then, you felt her hand encircle your wrist, drawing you back to her warm side. She pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, her love wrapping around you like a cloak. “If you wish to keep me company whilst I rest, I shall never protest, my treasure.”

And so, you settled back against her, safe and cherished, while Ser Harwin gently rocked Joffrey to sleep. Your mother cast the same tender look upon him that Ser Harwin had, her eyes shimmering with a light of love—a look you noticed she had never bestowed upon your father. With this curious thought lingering in your mind, you surrendered to the soothing comfort of your mother's embrace, drifting gently into a blissful slumber for an impromptu nap.

“This one has rings...and two pairs of legs on each,” Helaena whispered, her voice a gentle hum as she held a slithering black insect close to her face, its glossy body glinting in the soft light.

“That makes two hundred and forty,” she concluded, her gaze fixed on the peculiar creature, while you regarded it with wide, curious eyes.

“Yes, indeed,” the Queen murmured thoughtfully from her perch beside Helaena.

You had awoken to find your mother still lost in slumber after drifting off beside her. With utmost care, you slipped away from her warm embrace, seeking out Helaena as you waited for the boys to finish their dragon lessons — and by boys, of course, you really meant Aemond.

“It has eyes...though...I don't believe it can see,” Helaena continued, bringing the strange creature nearer to you. Instinctively, you leaned back, wary of its closeness.

“And why is that so, do you think?" Queen Alicent inquired, her brow cocked in gentle curiosity.

Helaena merely shook her head, a mystique in her expression. “Some things lie beyond our understanding.”

“I suppose you are right,” Queen Alicent replied in a soft tone, a touch of wisdom in her words. “Some things simply are.”

"That sounds quite scary," you ventured, finally chiming in.

Both heads turned to your direction, and Helaena regarded you with a gentle curiosity. "Why do you say that?"

You offered a slight shrug, your finger gliding over the peculiar, scaly texture of the insect before you. "I suppose I’d feel so helpless, not being able to see anything. It would be a sad too, not to behold colors or shapes."

Queen Alicent regarded you with a softened gaze, her expression a mixture of contemplation and warmth. While her heart held a shadow of disdain for your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, and your brothers, who bore the stigma of bastardy, she recognized the innocence in you. A precious blend of Targaryen and Velaryon blood, you were a vision of purity akin to a delicate flower springing forth amidst thorns. It certainly didn't hurt that your sweetness was reminiscent of the ripest strawberry tart.

"Well, since it has never encountered colors or shapes, my dear princess, it has no reason to feel sad," she said softly.

Your brow furrowed, the Queen's words weaving through your mind like threads of a tapestry, before a radiant smile broke forth on your cherubic face in understanding.

The calm of the Queen's solar shattered abruptly as the heavy door swung open, revealing Aemond, forcibly ushered inside by a stern Kingsguard. All eyes, filled with concern, turned toward the commotion, “Your Grace.”

Alicent sprang to her feet, her voice laced with accusation. “Aemond. What have you done?”

You trailed closely behind the Queen, keeping a respectful distance as she unleashed her frustration upon Aemond, who stood there, cloaked in ash from head to toe. “After how many times you've been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?!"

Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of your friend’s distressed expression. “They made me do it!" he pleaded, desperation lacing his tone.

"As if you needed encouragement," Queen Alicent rebuked him, her hands firm upon his shoulders. “Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding."

“They gave me a pig!” Aemond’s voice rose, indignation spilling forth, and you flinched at the raw hurt echoing in his words.

Alicent paused, her brow furrowing in confusion. “A what?”

He turned his gaze away from his mother, the shame evident, but when his violet eyes fell upon you, they swiftly darted back, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. “They said it was a dragon… but it was a pig.”

The stern lines of the Queen’s face softened, and she spoke with conviction. “You will have a dragon one day. I know it."

“They all laughed at me,” Aemond murmured, his sorrow palpable in the air.

You yearned to bridge the distance and offer solace, for in that moment, you understood his pain more profoundly than anyone else in the room. Yet, you recognized that he needed his mother’s embrace more than your support. As Alicent enveloped Aemond in a tight hug, his violet gaze met yours once more, and all you could offer him was an understanding look, a silent promise that you would be there when he needed you.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting amber rays that danced across the ornate shelves of the Red Keep’s library, you found yourself seated beside your uncle, who had only just tidied himself after that unpleasant encounter. His eyes remained fixed on the pages of the book detailing Aegon's Conquest, but the tense silence between you weighed heavily in the air.

The heavy silence lingered, thickening the air around you. Restlessly, you glanced up at your uncle and whispered, "I am truly sorry."

He did not lift his gaze from the book, his tone icy as he replied, "Why do you say you’re sorry? You bear no blame in this."

Your heart ached for him, as you said softly, "I am sorry for what happened, for the pain it brought upon you. I will speak to my brothers about their behavior, I promise."

Aemond’s expression hardened, his lips pressing together in frustration. "I don't need you to save me, niece," he retorted, the sharpness of his words echoing in the quiet library.

Your heart sank, and you instinctively dropped your gaze. You could sense his turmoil; and you understood the pain and inferiority he was feeling. You had only wished to help, yet somehow, your kindness seemed to have been misread. You recognized when your presence was unwelcome, so with a small, resigned 'alright,' you began to rise from your seat, intending to leave him in peace.

Yet just as you turned, Aemond’s head snapped up, a wave of guilt crashing over him. He realized harshly that he had been unfair to you—his darling niece who was merely being her sweet, caring self. In a swift motion, he reached out for your hand, "Wait," his voice softer this time, “I did not mean to be cruel. I...I apologize.”

A warm smile crept across your face as you met his earnest eyes. “I accept your apology, uncle." You furrowed your brows playfully, a hint of mischief in your voice. "Come with me."

Before he could protest, your fingers intertwined, and you pulled him along with a gentle urgency. Aemond, caught off guard, found himself captivated by the warmth and softness of your hand in his. In the innocence of your youth, holding hands and being with each other everyday all day had felt natural, but with each passing day, as you both grew older, the simple act took on an air of unspoken indecency. Still, he let himself be led, wrapped in the comfort that his niece eagerly offered.

Aemond hesitated as you guided him into your chambers, pausing at the threshold, uncertainty written on his brow. However, any tension was quickly vanquished as you drew him inside. Your quarters brimmed with the elegance one might associate with a princess; the canopy bed was adorned with delicate pink linens and plump pillows, while vases scattered throughout the room overflowed with a lush assortment of pink and purple roses, their fragrance sweetening the air.

Yet, it was the object resting on the small table before the crackling fireplace that truly seized Aemond's attention. Nestled atop the table was a warming pot, housing a radiant violet dragon egg that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. "A dragon egg," he murmured, his fascination palpable.

You guided Aemond to kneel beside the table, where the two of you were drawn into the stillness of the moment. With a tender whisper, you began to recount the story behind the egg. "My brothers retrieved it when they sought an egg for my newest brother, Joffrey."

"Joffrey?" Aemond asked, a hint of skepticism lacing his tone as he met your gaze, "That name sounds far from Targaryen."

Your focus remained on the egg, brushing aside his remark. After a moment of contemplation, you finally shared the weight that had settled in your heart. "I fear it won't hatch."

Aemond's reaction was immediate; his head snapped towards you, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Do not speak such things."

"It is but my opinion, Aemond," you replied gently, undeterred by his sharpness. You understood that his frustration was not truly aimed at you; it never was.

“Why do you believe such a thing?” His voice softened, a hint of curiosity threading through his concern.

You averted your gaze, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “It is foolish,” you murmured, hesitant to reveal the depth of your fears.

“And so?” he pressed, his intensity unyielding.

Drawing a steadying breath, you finally revealed your heart. “In my mind, the egg shall only hatch if I do not care for it deeply.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed, understanding dawning. “So, you do care, then?”

“No, I do not!” you insisted too quickly, casting a furtive glance at the egg as if it had heard Aemond's words.

Frustration etched across Aemond’s features, he clenched his fists tightly. “It is unfair that your brothers possess dragons while we remain without, since they are—”

“What?” you interjected softly, concern lacing your tone. “They are what?”

Your earnest look tugged at the fragile threads of his heart. He couldn’t assume you were unaware of the whispers that painted your brothers in shadows, nor could he believe you were deaf to the harsh truths woven through courtly gossip. Yet, he would never voice those words to you. Instead, he muttered grudgingly, “Not as special as us.”

A small pout formed on your lips, drawing his attention away from the dragon egg that lay neglected between you. “You do understand that it was most likely Aegon who orchestrated that prank, yes?” you pressed, your voice laced with a gentle resolve.

Aemond scoffed and turned away, the weight of your words lingering in the air like an unwelcome specter. “Are you truly defending them?” he challenged, though he felt the shake of his conviction.

“No, Aemond,” you replied, your voice as sweet as summer rain, “What my brothers did was wrong. But more often than not, you never hold Aegon accountable, despite him being the leader of their little group.”

His back remained turned to you, pride keeping him rooted as he mulled over your words. Deep down, he recognized the truth in them, though he loathed to concede, for Aegon was his elder brother. He longed for the bond that appeared so effortless between you and your siblings, and it felt far more convenient to direct his ire toward them instead.

As Aemond continued to brood, you glided closer, resting your chin on his shoulder, your presence as warm as the sun’s rays. “If my egg should hatch, perhaps we could share the dragon?” you suggested brightly, seeking to lift his spirits.

He let out a disdainful scoff, turning to face you so closely that your noses nearly brushed. “Now, that is simply absurd.”

“Aemond,” you admonished softly, undeterred.

“Never has there been a dragon with two riders,” he rebutted gloomily, his voice laced with skepticism.

“So we would be the first,” you retorted, rising to your feet with animated gestures. “There must always be a first, for only then can things be normalized. Just wait and see, Aemond—one day, a Targaryen will claim more than one dragon!”

He regarded you with an unreadable expression and replied matter-of-factly, “That is entirely selfish, niece.”

You huffed in exasperation, settling back down beside him, your patience wearing thin. At moments like this, Aemond’s stubbornness made him seem dreadfully dull. “You fail to see the vision, uncle."

It was curious how swiftly the tides of life could turn. You had often confided in your mother about your aversion to change, and her response was always the same: "Change is inevitable, my love." You were not certain what that meant, but you understood now, as the world around you shifted in the blink of an eye. The sudden sadness that gripped your heart was puzzling, especially since you were so young. Just like that, you had been whisked away from the familiar streets of King’s Landing to the distant shores of Dragonstone, all because of your mother’s choices, which felt like a shadow beyond your grasp.

Dragonstone loomed before you, ominous and strange. You had never set foot on its rugged shores, but a sense of dread weighed heavy in your chest, telling you you would despise it here. The library would be smaller, you thought—if Dragonstone even had one at all—and the gardens could not possibly rival those sprawling ones in the Red Keep. Most troubling of all was the thought of being separated from Helaena and Aemond.

Helaena, your sweet aunt, sometimes it felt as though you could almost imagine her as your sister. Though her peculiar musings often escaped your understanding, it was her delightful oddities that you cherished most, setting her apart from all the other court ladies.

And Aemond—nothing in this vast world could rival the bond you shared with your uncle. You both understood one another in a way that few could fathom. The two dragonless Targaryens united by the same unspoken grief, felt the weight of their inferiority hanging over them like a storm cloud. Yet within that shared pain grew a deep-rooted connection. Aemond was your anchor in a world that often felt lonely and overwhelming. With him, you never felt truly isolated; you were never alone.

As the time arrived for your departure, Aemond attempted to mask his feelings with indifference, but you could see beyond his brave facade. The glimmer of tears in his violet eyes and the strength of his embrace told you everything: he would miss you just as fiercely as you would miss him.

Once again, the sea had darkened, mirroring the heaviness in your heart. The next time the two of you would gather would be under the shadow of sorrow. Your Aunt Laena had passed, and your family was bound for Driftmark to honor her memory. Despite having never met her, a sharp ache coursed through you, all the more intense for the grief etched across your father’s face. Laena had been his twin, after all. Then there was the loss of Ser Harwin Strong as well, which weighed heavily on your mother and brothers. Yet, for reasons you couldn’t quite grasp, your own heart felt strangely untouched by sadness.

The funeral had drawn to a close. Your mother gently encouraged you and Jace to offer words of comfort to your cousins, Baela and Rhaena. But Jace spoke without thinking, a clumsy remark about how you all should have been at Harrenhal instead of Driftmark. You felt a rush of frustration rising in your throat, longing to assert that his pain didn’t lessen the tragedy of the day. After all, he was only voicing his own hurt.

With a quiet huff, you had marched away in silence, finding your perch beside a jagged stone wall, where you could observe your father from a distance. He stood in the shallows of the ocean, the waves lapping at his knees, as if being closer to Laena might ease the sorrow that weighed upon his heart. It pained you to witness him so downcast; the truth was, you had always thought your father impervious to sadness, having never seen his face devoid of a smile before this moment.

“How fares Dragonstone?”

A smile began to bloom on your lips at the familiar sound of Aemond's voice, bringing warmth to your gloomy thoughts.

"It is cold and windy," you replied quietly, shifting your gaze toward him.

Aemond paused, taking in the sight of you. It had been merely weeks since you left the Red Keep, yet in your absence, the loneliness had curled around him like a thick fog. Seeing you now felt like sunlight piercing through gray clouds after a long storm. He regarded you for a moment longer before nodding subtly toward your brothers. "My condolences for Ser Harwin. I assume that is what had your brothers weeping."

“The bond between him and my brothers was indeed strong,” you admitted, a furrow forming in your brow as Aemond stifled a laugh with a cough. “I am sad he has passed, just as I mourn Aunt Laena. But the sorrows I feel mostly arise from witnessing the devastation their losses have cast upon my mother and father.”

Your lilac eyes shifted back toward your father, worry etched across your youthful features. You bit your lip, glancing at the water below. Surely it had turned icy, “I wish I could help him, to see him smile once more. But I’m not sure what to say.”

This was a curious moment for Aemond. Throughout his life, he had cherished you as his dearest friend, his beloved niece. Yet, recently, he began to view you in a new light—the way your silver curls captured the sunlight, glowing as if spun from starlight, or how every gown you wore magnified the beauty of your lilac eyes.

He licked his dry lips and spoke gently, “I reckon there’s little you could say that would ease his pain. Instead, find a way to show him you stand with him. That might be enough.”

You nodded thoughtfully at Aemond's words, your gaze drifting toward Rhaena and Baela. "I feel so awful," you confessed, your voice scarcely above a whisper. "I could never imagine losing my mother."

"Me neither," Aemond replied softly.

After a moment of silence, you added, "I think I would die from the heartbreak." You could sense Aemond’s eyes upon you, a question hanging unspoken in the air between you. A small sigh escaped your lips as you said, "It didn’t hatch, if that’s what you were thinking?"

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Aemond's head lower slightly. "Oh," he murmured, disappointment lacing his tone.

You lifted your chin, trying to display strength despite the disappointment gnawing at your heart. "I suspect I am not meant for a dragon," you asserted, forcing a brave smile.

"Don’t say that," Aemond insisted, his voice firm yet gentle.

Turning to face him, you allowed your hopelessness to seep through your facade. "Three times, Aemond. Three times my egg has failed to hatch."

"There are many unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone," Aemond suggested with a hint of resolve. "Perhaps you could try with them?"

"At the risk of my life?" you replied, arching an eyebrow at him. But then, your lips curled into a playful smile as you reached out to take Aemond's hand in yours. "But really, why would I seek a bond with a dragon when my bond with you is far more precious to me?"

Your words made Aemond’s cheeks flush a deep crimson, his heart thudding like the wings of a dragon. Though you seemed to find comfort in his friendship over the absence of a dragon, Aemond couldn't shake the feeling of urgency. If a dragon was to be claimed, it would be up to him—the time had come, for both of your sakes.

He remembered that at this very moment, there was the legendary Vhagar, unclaimed and free, somewhere on the island, waiting for someone worthy to forge a bond with her. And he would do it in your honour.

You were jolted awake from your slumber, the sound of your name ringing insistently in your ears as someone gently shook your shoulders.

Opening your eyes with heavy lids, you frowned to see Jace’s eager face hovering over you, his hands gripping your shoulders.

“Jace, what is it?” you mumbled, pushing him away with tired reluctance as you struggled to sit up.

“Vhagar has been stolen! We must find out who did it!” he exclaimed, his voice bubbling with urgency as he tugged at you to rise from your bed.

“We?” you replied slowly, letting the word hang in the air. Your gaze drifted past him, landing on Luke, Baela, and Rhaena, who stood ready to storm out.

You groaned and collapsed back into your pillows, muffling your voice as you protested, “Can this not wait until the sun graces the sky?”

Once more, Jace insisted, pulling you upright, even as you felt something being slipped onto your feet. You turned your bleary gaze to see Luke kneeling beside you, fastening your boots with surprising urgency.

“No time for that! We needed a person of age to accompany us,” Jace declared, lifting you to your feet with determined hands.

You froze in place, fixing him with a look that was a blend of disbelief and exasperation. “Jace... I’m ten, and you’re nine.”

Yet your protest went unheard as Jace and Luke eagerly dragged you through the castle’s dim corridors, Baela and Rhaena leading the way with purpose. A terrible knot of dread twisted in your stomach, and you murmured under your breath, “Perhaps we could find a guard.”

“That would take far too long,” Rhaena replied sharply, her steps firm as the twins guided you deeper into the shadowy tunnels beneath the castle.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, and your mouth gaped open as you caught sight of Aemond standing before you, his hair tousled and a cocky smirk dancing on his lips.

“It’s him,” Baela exclaimed, realization dawning on her.

Aemond's smirk widened, and he drawled, “It’s me.”

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon,” Rhaena said, her voice trembling with indignation.

“Your mother’s dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now,” Aemond shot back, his words sharp as a dagger. You flinched at the cruelty woven into his tone.

“You claimed Vhagar?” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. Aemond’s gaze met yours, filled with an expectation of pride, but instead, he found only shock and hurt reflected in your eyes.

But before you could gather your thoughts, Rhaena’s voice pierced the air, filled with anger, “She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should’ve claimed her!” Aemond roared, his voice echoing through the tunnel. “Perhaps your cousins can find you a pig to ride. That would suit you better!”

Disgust twisted your features at Aemond’s taunts, yet your attention shifted as you saw Rhaena charging toward him. “Rhaena, wait!” you cried out, but it was too late.

In a heartbeat, Rhaena slammed into Aemond, pushing him with all her might. In response, he shoved her to the ground, and the chaos spiraled out of control. Everything happened so swiftly that you barely registered Baela darting past you until the sharp crack of her fist meeting Aemond’s cheek rang in your ears. He retaliated in an instant.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” Aemond roared, fury lighting up his features.

A gasp escaped your lips as you instinctively shouted, “Aemond!”

“She hit me first!” Aemond yelled back, his frustration spilling out around them like wildfire.

Just then, you felt a rush behind you as Jace charged forward, his own fury ignited. He struck Aemond squarely on the nose. In the blink of an eye, the fight erupted around you, with Jace, Luke, Rhaena, and Baela striking Aemond from every side.

It was only when you felt that surge of panic return to your mind and body that you tore yourself away from your stunned silence, sprinting toward the melee. “Stop it! All of you, stop!” you cried, your voice rising above the clamor.

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as the thrashing continued. In the fray, Jace’s elbow inadvertently crashed into your face, sending you spiraling toward the stone wall. Your head thudded sharply against the rough surface, pain blooming as darkness threatened to close in.

Time seemed to slow, and suddenly, the fighting ceased. Jace’s wide eyes met yours, filled with shock. “I—I didn’t mean to,” he stammered, guilt clouding his features.

Through the ringing in your ears, you attempted to open your eyes, focusing on the concern etched on your brother's face. “I know you didn’t mean to, Jace,” you murmured, your voice a fragile whisper.

Yet the fury of the confrontation did not relent; the struggle surrounding Aemond grew more fierce, spurred on by your injury. As blood trickled down your forehead, thick and unwelcome, Aemond's anger erupted. “You hurt her!” he roared, his voice laced with venom.

A throbbing pain radiated through your skull, swelling with every clash of voices and yells. Gritting your teeth against the discomfort, you finally opened your eyes wide enough to glimpse Jace, knife in hand. A pang of urgency surged within you, prompting a weak plea, “Jace, put that away.”

You longed to retreat into darkness, to let the cacophony fade away, but the din continued to swell. Jace unleashed a handful of sand, blinding Aemond momentarily, while Luke, with fierce determination, rushed forward carrying Jace's knife. “Luke, no!” you cried, though your words were nearly drowned in the chaos.

And then, before you could breathe another word, the world faded away into shadows, consumed by the horrifying scream that sliced through the air — Aemond's anguished cry as Luke struck at his eye.

To Be Continued...

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x you #hotd #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell #hotd x reader

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rafesaddiction · 1 year ago

Text

It's not cheating when he's your best friend – Rafe Cameron x Reader

See here for part 2

Summary: You and your best friend Rafe want to watch some movies together, but your jealous boyfriend keeps calling you and makes you cry. Rafe takes care of you.

Concept: best friends, one bed

Warnings: mdni! – smut, fingering, sex, p in v, cheating (reader cheats on boyfriend), jealousy, hints at toxic relationship, name calling (reader is called slut), protective!rafe, but also kinda mean!rafe

Word count: 3.9k

“Now what has the dick done this time?”

“His name is Nick and you know that,” you punched your best friend against his chest, causing him to mouth an “ouch!” and rub the spot you had hit, pretending to be hurt, though you knew even if you'd tried, you could not actually hurt him. He was so much stronger than you. And hitting him with your fist, you just felt his hard muscles and actually hurt your own hand a little.

“Whatever. He's a dick for sure,” Rafe shrugged, reached over you to grab the popcorn. His arm brushed your chest, just hardly touching your shirt, and weirdly it made you shiver.

You frowned at Rafe who had already turned his face towards the TV screen again. You were sitting next to him on the floor in front of his bed. Sure it wasn't as comfortable as if you had been sitting on the bed, but it was kind of your thing. Yours and Rafe's. When you were kids you used to do that all the time, sit as close to the TV screen as possible, because “it was like going to the movies”, the screen seemed so much bigger. Now the screen was actually huge, it still felt bigger sitting on the floor and looking up. You kind of felt like kids again, even though you were both adults now. It was a feeling of nostalgia, something you hadn't known you had missed that much.

It had been a while since you had done this, just a movie night with your best friend since childhood. Though your college wasn't that far away from the island, you had hardly seen Rafe in the last couple of months. And you'd missed this, hanging out with your best friend. Watching a movie marathon – Rafe had picked tonight's movies: all four John Wick films. And even though you had rolled your eyes when Rafe told you, you had to admit the movies were actually fun to watch. And you enjoyed yourself, eating popcorn, sitting next to each other, chatting or just watching in silence when a scene got extremely exciting.

You enjoyed yourself more than you had in a while. And you were so glad that you had agreed to spending time with Rafe before you would have to drive back to college the next day.

Well, you had enjoyed yourself, until your phone just wouldn't keep quiet. You had it on silent, but you could see the screen blinking. And you couldn't ignore it, because it might be important.

It was your boyfriend who had been texting you. And you hated to leave him on read, so you replied. But he didn't stop. You told him – again – you would call him later, you were watching movies with your best friend. His answer wasn't what you had hoped for.

You were just typing back when Rafe asked you what your boyfriend had done.

You really didn't want to talk about it, you wanted to relax, not think about your boyfriend or college or the next day when you would have to return, not think about how much you had missed just being yourself in the company of your best friend.

But your phone kept ringing. Your boyfriend was now calling you. You sighed.

You saw Rafe glancing at you sideways.

You should just put your phone away, and ignore it. But you were already too upset to enjoy the movie.

So you got up.

“I gotta take this,” you told Rafe, pointing at your phone, and you didn't even wait for his reply, but went to the adjoining bathroom and closed the door behind you.

You took a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hi babe, I—” But your boyfriend didn't let you finish. He started talking right away, though it wasn't actually talking, he was yelling at you. He was furious that you had ignored him. You tried to explain, but he wouldn't listen.

“Why haven't you told me who you are meeting?”

“I didn't think it was such a big deal. Rafe's my best friend, you know that. I've known him since forever…”

Your boyfriend went to high school with you, so he knew who Rafe Cameron was. And he had never gotten along with him. Which was okay, because you only started dating at college. And that was when you found out that he hated your best friend. But since you hardly ever saw Rafe, he was never really a topic in your relationship. Until now.

“Don't think I'm stupid, y/n. He's not just a friend. He's Rafe Cameron.”

“But he is my friend!” You had tried to keep quiet, but your emotions were in turmoil. You didn't know how it had happened, but you were almost feeling angry.

“A friend who wants to fuck you. But that's what you want, huh? You just wanna be one of his dumb sluts? He's using you!”

Tears filled your eyes and you couldn't hold them back at his harsh words.

“That's not true,” your voice sounded weak and you sobbed.

He wouldn't listen. He just accused you of these ridiculous things, calling you names, and then he just hung up. You tried to call him back, but the call went straight to voice mail.

Your mind was racing, your heart was beating so fast, you felt it would explode in your chest. Tears were running down your cheeks, but you didn't even care to wipe them from your face when you left the bathroom to return to Rafe's bedroom.

He was still sitting on the floor in front of the bed. The movie was paused, you noticed from the silence in the room, and it kind of touched you that he had been so considerate to pause the movie, so you wouldn't miss a scene.

He looked up at you, but you tried to avoid his gaze as you walked closer.

“I need to go,” you said, hardly audibly.

“What?” Rafe frowned at you. “Dicky calls and you come running?”

For a moment, you wondered if he was hurt. After all, you had promised to spend time with him, watch a John Wick marathon. And you hadn't seen him for so long.

“I can't do this now,” you sniffled and shook your head. You couldn't deal with your best friend's hurt feelings too now, even though you felt bad. But you needed to leave now, you needed to make things right with your boyfriend.

You reached down to pick up your bag that was lying on the floor next to Rafe, when he suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you down. You let out a surprised gasp as you fell right onto his lap, where he caught you, where he held you.

You struggled and tried to get up.

“Let me go, asshole,” you punched his shoulder, but Rafe only held you closer in both his arms.

“What now? I'm the asshole, but he makes you cry?”

Rafe grabbed your jaw, making you look at him when you tried to turn your face away.

“Let me go,” you said, blinking tears away.

“Only when you tell me what's going on. What has he done to you?”

You tried to shake your head, struggling to get up, but he was stronger, so much stronger, and the way he held you, held you like he would never let go off you, you became overwhelmed by your emotions, no longer able to get your act together, instead of pushing away, you now clung to your best friend. You buried your face at the crook of his neck, and he held you. Tears were soaking his shirt and he caressed your hair. You were shaking and trembling and sobbing, and Rafe pulled you closer.

This side of him wasn't new to you, but no one else knew him like this, caring, protecting. And you had only seen him like this on few occasions. And it was like your body reacted to his. Though your feelings were still in turmoil, your shaking had stopped, your crying became quieter. Your hands were still clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

He was quiet and you could just feel his calm breathing, when you got quieter yourself after some time. He did not say anything, did not urge you. And you felt so comfortable. So safe. And you realized that you hadn't felt like this in months. You hadn't felt like this since you left.

You were only sobbing quietly after a while and moved your head back, to gaze at your best friend.

He looked at you, and on his lips was a little smile, as if he was looking at something precious.

You suddenly became very aware of his gaze.

“Don’t look at me. I look like a mess,” you cast your eyes down.

“Hot mess,” he said softly and you felt your cheeks flushing.

You tried to punch his chest, but he caught your fist in his hand, wrapping it around it, holding it. This time, you didn't try to struggle and pull it away, you felt this warmth from the closeness, not just surrounding your hand. You looked up from his big hand holding yours to his face, finding his eyes still on you.

“You're fucking beautiful and if he doesn't make you feel that way, he doesn't deserve you.”

An incredible heat was rushing to your face and you knew you were blushing crimson.

“You only say that because you’re my best friend.”

“I shouldn't say that because I am your best friend…”

Your lips opened at his words, but instead of speaking you only breathed in. And you could feel his breath on your face, on your lips. You closed your mouth and unconsciously your tongue touched your lips, as if trying to feel something there.

His blue eyes looked at you, so intensely, you could almost feel them on you.

His fingers moved and he was caressing your hand still in his. It was such a light movement, such a delicate touch, but it sent waves of electricity through your body. This tingling sensation made you restless and your body wriggled in his arms, making you well aware of the fact that you were sitting in his lap. You inhaled sharply.

“I should go,” you mumbled and tried to get up.

Rafe held you tighter, his hand around your fist pressed against is chest. His other arm around your back.

“Rafe, let me go,” you urged.

“Only when you tell me what he's done to you.”

“Nothing.”

You shook your head, but Rafe suddenly gripped your jaws again, and this time so hard, it hurt a little. He looked at you, his eyes narrowed, a frown on his forehead and his voice was so stern, so commanding, it made you shiver.

“What did he say to you? Tell me now.”

You looked down with your eyes but somehow you couldn't refuse his command.

“He called me a dumb slut and said you just wanted to use me.”

There was silence, a cold, icy silence. You watched his face.

His brows furrowed, his nostrils flared, his jaws clenched.

“I'm gonna kill him.”

You saw his eyes darken, his handsome features grew tense. And even though you were sure that he didn't mean what he said, you felt a shiver running down your spine, because he kind of looked as if he meant it.

He was about to get up, and you were slipping from his lap in that motion. But you clung to him.

“No, Rafe, don't!”

And even though you were weaker than him, your hands pressed on his broad shoulders and you somehow managed to push him down, so he remained seated and you found yourself straddling his lap now.

His chest was rising and falling, as if from exhaustion. His hands found your hips and you felt you were panting too. Suddenly feeling so hot and restless.

“I'm gonna go,” you said, but you didn't get up.

“I can't let you drive like this. You’re a bad driver anyway, and you'll surely crash into some tree or something when you drive in this state.”

You frowned at his words.

“But I need to get back to college in the morning.”

You felt his hands grip your hips firmer, even though you didn't try to move.

“You can just stay the night and drive in the morning after you've rested.”

It wouldn't be the first night you spent at your best friend's. Though it had been a while.

“Rose is redecorating the guest room – again. You can't sleep in there. But you can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the floor.”

“But –”

“No buts.”

And that and the stern look on his face shut you up.

You weren't in the mood to continue watching the movie marathon and it was late anyway, so you decided to go to sleep. Rafe gave you one of his t-shirts to wear for the night, and you went into the bathroom to change and wash your face. It was a warm night, so you only wore the t-shirt over your panties, it was way too big for you, but it was extremely comfortable.

When you returned to the bedroom, you found Rafe putting a blanket on the floor next to the bed, making some make-shift bed. He was just wearing boxer briefs, and even though the light was dim, you could see his well-defined body clearly. You'd seen him like this before, of course. Like when you had been at the beach or swimming in the pool. Yet somehow, seeing him in his underwear felt different, more intimate.

You stood there, hands clutching the hem of the oversized t-shirt at your thighs. And you looked at him when he straightened up and turned towards you.

You felt his eyes travelling over your body and you quickly started moving towards the bed.

“What are you doing there?”

Rafe tilted his head. You pointed at the floor.

“You don't have to sleep on the floor. Your bed is big enough for the two of us. This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, maybe I don't want to get hit when you're tossing and turning in your sleep?”

“I did that once! When I was eight!”

“Once was enough. And it really hurt when you punched my ribs in your sleep. So, no thank you. I'll take the floor.”

Rafe took a pillow from the bed and was about to set it on the floor when you grabbed his arm, to get that pillow back.

“You're stupid. This is stupid!”

You frowned at him, pulled at his arm, to get the pillow, and in your struggling with him, he must have lost balance, because you suddenly found yourself on your back on the bed and Rafe was lying on top of you. That pillow still in his hand, your hand around his wrist, with his arm and yours above your head on the bed.

You looked up at him, your face just an inch away from his. You could hardly see his features, but you felt the proximity, felt it so intensely. Felt that heat that was radiating from his body, felt it crawling over your skin. You felt the weight of his body on yours. And your breathing got harder.

You felt him shift, just a bit, on top of you, as if trying not to crush you and you inhaled and his scent filled your lungs.

You felt a light touch on your cheek. The fingertips of his free hand caressed your face.

“I'll sleep in the bed with you, if you promise me not to cry over that douchebag anymore,” his voice low, as he spoke those words, moving his lips so close hovering over yours. His eyes held your gaze. You nodded softly. And he got up and you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

You kept lying on your back, just for some seconds, unable to move, still feeling his fingertips on your cheek, his body's weight pressing you down, feeling dizzy all of a sudden.

But then the bed tilted and you looked to the side, seeing that Rafe was getting into the bed, and you moved to make room for him.

You lay on your side, facing him as he pulled the blanket over you. His face once again close to yours, just for some seconds.

“Night, y/n.”

“Good night, Rafe.”

He turned on his back and switched off the lights. You turned to the other side and closed your eyes, focused on his breathing. You felt your own heart beating so rapidly at first, but after some time, you got calmer and were able to relax.

You must have fallen asleep, because when you woke up, you felt Rafe's body close behind yours, his arm loosely wrapped around you. You smelled his dark scent so intensely, felt his heat getting under your shirt. You felt his breath at the back of your head and a light shiver was running down your spine.

“Rafe?” You softly whispered his name, but he must have been fast asleep. He didn't answer, didn't move.

Carefully you placed your hand on his, your fingertips feeling along his long fingers.

He didn't move. His breathing still so calm.

His chest was pressing against your back and you could feel his regular heartbeat. It felt so familiar. You felt so safe.

And yet you couldn't stay still.

You bit your lips and moved, just a bit, arching your back, moving your butt back, pressing it against his crotch.

His breathing remained calm, telling you, he was still asleep, still unaware of what you were doing.

And you moved your butt just a little bit more and you felt him, felt him so prominently, you gasped in surprise. That tingling you felt turned into something hotter and you felt your core pulsing all of a sudden. You were breathing through your opened mouth as you felt this heat rushing through your body.

But Rafe was still breathing calmly, he was still asleep.

You felt him stir behind you, felt how hard he was, poking against your ass.

His palm was on your lower stomach. You felt it move under your hand. His calm breathing so close to your ear.

His hand moved down, moved over the fabric of the t-shirt you were wearing, and the pressure made you gasp and push back a little more.

You let go off his hand, but grasped the sheets. You tried to calm your breathing, but you were panting as you felt his fingers move under your shirt, felt his warm touch on your burning skin.

You couldn't see anything but you pressed your eyes shut nonetheless as his fingers slipped into your panties. They touched your heat, touched your most sensitive parts.

You let out a small whimper and your back arched further.

You listened, but he was so calm, so still, as if he was still asleep, and only his fingers were moving. And they moved between your legs. His fingers gently parting your folds.

You pressed your mouth shut, but you were sure that embarrassingly whining sound could be heard in the darkness of the room.

His fingertip rubbed your pearl and your body reacted, tensing up as you felt this incredible hot need literally throbbing.

You felt his breath so close to your ear and it sent a different kind of shiver through your body.

One finger slipped inside you, and you clenched around it hard. But he pushed deeper and you gasped. And you didn't know how but you were so wet, it made it easy for him to add another finger, though you pressed your legs tightly together.

For a moment, his digits just remained there, inside you, not moving. So very still like the rest of his body.

Then you felt his hard cock pressing against your ass, the length between your cheeks. And as if following some instinct, you rocked your hips, rubbed against him, creating more friction, creating more heat that made you shiver.

His fingers started moving inside you, pushing deeper, curling, and finding a spot that made you outright moan, and unable to suppress that sound.

His thumb pressed hard on your pearl, teasing you and sending hot bolts of pure need through your body. And your body was on heat, there was no other way to describe it. Every cell of your body was aching for his touch now. And he touched you, so good, so intensely, so determined.

You were moaning and whimpering as his fingers opened you up, made you spread your legs, urging him to go deeper, pushing against his thrusts, and pressing against his hardness.

You felt your climax building up quickly as his fingers pushed harder, moved deeper and more ruthlessly inside you, taking you.

You felt his hot lips on your neck as you pushed your head back, your body convulsing. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, but you weren't sure if you were trying to stop him – or if you even could.

His thumb rubbing your most sensitive pearl, making you clamp your walls around his fingers, you couldn't have stopped it, it was almost as if he was forcing that orgasm into you and you gave in, gave in willingly and with everything you had, everything you were, letting that wave of pure pleasure roll over you. Moaning shamelessly, your body trembling as his fingers fucked you through an overwhelming climax.

You lay there, panting, sweat covering your body, and you were still feeling dizzy from the aftermath of that amazing orgasm, when you felt a shiver of cold. He lifted the blanket off of you. And before you could ask why, you felt his hand on your thigh and he lifted up your leg. And before you could wonder what he was up to, you felt his fingers push your soaking wet panties to the side. And before you could really grasp what was going on, you felt his hard cock push inside you from behind.

You cried out as you were stretched by his thickness.

His hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries, as he pushed deeper, pushed his whole length into you. You felt like he was splitting you in two, he was so big, pushing so hard, but at the same time this was all you wanted, all your body was craving for.

Your body shook from his hard thrusts, and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close, making you feel his rapid heartbeat, making you feel him, so intensely, you forgot where you ended and where he began. You felt as if you were melting into him as he took you with long hard thrusts, took you as if you were only his.

And when you felt his hot cum spilling inside you, your body convulsed so hard around him, making him gasp into your ear and you came again, and he was fucking you through another high, this time not as fierce, but even more intense as you felt this connection with him, something you had never felt before.

You were still panting and your body was trembling as he rolled you around and took you in his arms. His lips kissing your face, tasting your sweat, tasting your tears.

“You're one of my sluts now.”

You froze as you heard his dark whisper.

“What?” You moved your head back to look at him though it was too dark to make out his features.

“I said, go back to sleep now,” he said, softly. And kissed your forehead, before cradling you in his strong arms. Your head resting against his shoulder, as he held you. Held you close.

a/n: Thank you for reading. This was probably much sweeter than what I usually write. I hope you enjoyed it. All feedback is very much appreciated.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #smut fic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe x y/n #rafe obx #rafe fic

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writtenapoiogy · 4 months ago

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patience running thin; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: 'You two were to be wed by the week’s end. He was getting impatient. You were both getting impatient.'

word count: 1.3k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w/o plot, somewhat canon compliant, hot HOT make out, fingering, hair pulling, groping, high valyrian used w translation (if it is wrong i obviously don't know hv please forgive me), jacaerys is feral.

a/n: i had to write and publish something about jace pronto i hope everyone enjoys! i may write a part 2 😁 (this is so minimally proofread it is 1am)

READ PART TWO HERE

“What are you doing here my love?” You said as Jacaerys walked you into your bedchamber and shut your door with his foot.

His eyebrows furrowed. “What can I not see my betrothed?” Jace leaned down crashing his lips upon yours. He needed this every day. Feeling your lips against his helped center him during this crazy war. He wrapped his arms around your back pulling you completely against him.

You two were to be wed by the week’s end. He was getting impatient. You were both getting impatient. He’s wanted nothing more than to be inside of you since the date was set. Every time you two went to share a kiss there was nothing but heat behind it, a simple peck would lead to deeper kisses. Pushed against walls. Hands anywhere they could reach. Hushed moans drowned out by kisses.

He brought his hands from around you to cup your face and yours went to unpin his cloak. It fell to the floor alongside his sheathed sword they both fell and a loud clank resonated around the room.

“I missed you today.” Jacaerys ran his nose from behind your ear down to your collarbone. Taking in your scent. A warm vanilla, he could moan at your smell alone. You had just had your nightly bath.

He walked you towards your bed until the two of you fell on top of your bed cover. He kneeled over you, his mouth was all over your neck and the parts of your chest that were exposed.

Your hands were entangled in his exquisite curls. Gasps and moans left your mouth. You spread your legs and he ran his hand up one, piling your dress around your waist.

“I do not think I can keep my honor intact much longer,” Jace spoke his hand entirely too close to your small clothes.

You let out small gasps reaching your head towards him, wanting nothing more than to grasp his lips yet again.

“Jacaerys.” You whined desperately against his lips. “I cannot wait.”

He groaned and pulled away from you shaking his head. “Do not say that.” He sat on the backs of his legs looking down at you. “I cannot hear that. We marry in less than four days and every day we get closer, I am finding my honor on a very very thin line. I cannot be in control of what happens if I hear that.”

“Does it really count as dishonor when we marry so soon?” You smiled.

“We cannot.” He began to look at your frame. He could see your hard nipples through the thin material of your sleepwear. Looking at your beautiful legs. All the way up to where your dress was just barely covering your most intimate area. You looked so beautiful in front of him.

“We can.” You sat up running your hands up his chest. “And you are wearing too many clothes.”

“We canno-.”

“Jacaerys! Do something, please. Anything I’ll take anything you’ll give me… please.” You couldn’t take it anymore. These past few weeks, you’ve become touch starved for your soon-to-be husband. But touched starved in a place you have never felt him. Between the promiscuous kisses against walls in empty corridors. To the heated make-outs in each other beds. It was simply too much for you. You couldn’t handle it anymore.

You saw something flash in Jace’s eyes at your words. He was on you in seconds. Pulling your night dress down just enough to see the swell of your breasts. “I do not wish to spoil myself of your entirety before we are vowed to each other. I wish not to ruin the anticipation. To see my wife in all of her glory.”

You moaned at his words. He took your lips, pushing you back down on the bed, moaning into your mouth. He was kneeling over you. Your hands were tangled in his hair. This was all too much for both of you.

His cock screaming for release inside of his tight pants. You felt your stomach twisting in such delight. Your skin was ablaze, feeling his hands and mouth all over you. He brought his mouth down to the tops of your breasts, groping one through your clothes with his slender hands.

“Ja-Jacaerys. More. Please.” You struggled to get out through gasps and groans.

Jacaerys pulled his mouth away from your breast. He dragged his hand down from your breast slowly down your side till it was past your dress and going up the inner side of your thigh.

You felt your breath get stuck in a lump in your throat as you anticipated his next move. His eyes never left yours. Beautiful browns. So deep right now they almost looked like were brown mixed with blood red.

He brought his other hand down with him to pull your thin undergarments off of your body. His body had a visceral reaction to the smell of your arousal, which filled his nose as soon as he removed your small clothes. “Ao jāhor sagon se morghon hen issa.” You will be the death of me.

You not being of Targaryen blood, you did not understand what he just said. But him speaking the ancient language of High Valyrian did something to you. “Jace.” You whined.

Jacaerys brought his finger forward rubbing it through you wet folds. You jerked when his finger lightly touched your clit.

His eyes sparked mischievously, “Do you find that pleasurable, my love.” You mewled when he circled his finger over it. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He continued to play with your clit as you threw your hand to the back of his head, rocking your hips against his finger. You whispered in his ear that you needed him to put it inside of you.

He quickly slipped his index finger inside of you and groaned at your tightness. He began to pump his finger. All he could do was look at you in pure awe. Your breasts struggled to free themselves as you arched your back at the pleasure. Sweat droplets pilling up on your forehead. Your mouth was wide open as you let out wanton moans and cries of his name.

“Oh, you are perfect. Please look at me.” Jacaerys spoke when he curled his index finger inside of you, trying to see what made you tick. Looks like he hit it right on the spot. He couldn’t help but smirk, feeling a bit arrogant.

You opened your eyes as you let out a loud whimper. Jace immediately crashed his lips to yours in an open mouth kiss full of tongue and spit and lust. He pulled away, keeping his finger curling into the soft spot inside of you.

You looked down at the tent in his pants and couldn’t stop yourself from reaching your hand out to touch your prince but he immediately protested.

“If you touch me there that line of honor I have will snap. Do you rea-,” Jacaerys began before he was cut off by a knock at your door. Jacaerys stopped what he was doing and looked at you with wide eyes. “Tell them to go.” He leaned down and whispered against your lips.

“I am feeling a bit unwell. Please could this wait till the morning?” Jace smiled at you and then took your lips again. His hand resumed its actions as well.

“Little prince, I know you’re in there. Your mother is waiting for you at the painted table.”

Both of your faces blanched as you recognized no one other than Daemon Targaryen on the outside of the door.

Jacaerys removed his finger from inside of you and you hissed. He gave you a quick kiss before getting out of your bed to straighten himself up.

After he donned his cloak again, he gave you another kiss. “I will see you in the morning, Princess.”

You smiled at him as he helped get you situated under your covers. He was out the door before you could help him fix his hair. You laughed at the thought.

READ PART TWO HERE

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd

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selineram3421 · 10 months ago

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Deer Demon Child Headcanons

Requested

Alastor & Child Reader

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ implied death, mention of blood, mention of cannibalism, weapons-gun ⚠

It was a surprise to everyone that a child wandered into the hotel.

A little deer demon.

That's you

Climbed up one of the bar stools and stared the cat man down until he finally noticed them.

"Uh..hey? Kid."

"I want juice!", you pointed at a bottle behind him that was on the shelf.

"That's not juice."

While distracting you with magic tricks and cards games, Husk called Charlie to let her know that a new guest had arrived.

The Princess ran to get to the lobby and rushed over to the bar.

"Hi! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!", Charlie sings out before noticing the little deer. "Oh."

Everyone is called into the lobby.

"Ok!", Charlie claps her hands together and introduces you to the group. "Everyone, be nice and say hi."

Later on you are asked by Vaggie and Charlie how you got to the "red place."

Mostly everyone left and it was only you three. Four.

"Before I woke up here I was with my moma.", you said while coloring your drawing. "Dad had a shiney toy in his drawer and showed it to me a lot of times. It made fun clicking noises. I wanted to play with it, so I took it out."

As you were explaining you drew out the shape of a gun.

"I wanted to show Moma but she looked scared. And when I tried to make the clicky noise it came out different. It made a bang and then Moma fell."

You drew your mother covered in red.

"I tried to wake her up but she wouldn't get up. I got sad and started crying."

You didn't notice Charlie and Vaggie looking sad.

"Then Dad came home and started screaming at me and took the toy away. And then everything went dark for a while."

Picking up your paper, you showed the girls your drawings.

"And then I woke up to the red sky!"

Charlie hugged you after and said that she'll make sure you go to Heaven.

Oof sad backstory.

Husk literally growls at Alastor everytime he mentions venison for dinner.

Alastor has joked to others that he'll eat you but stopped once he grew fond of you.

"Little fawn.", he smiles as he greets you. "Would you like gingerbread cookies?"

To be honest, everyone is worried that Alastor might kill you. But surprise, surprise! They are shocked when he takes care of you instead.

You're the favorite hotel guest.

Anyone that tries anything will be taken care of.

Charlie did a talent show day and you sang, surprising everyone with your angelic like voice.

You're a curious little deer and the hotel guests and staff find you in odd places.

Once Angel found you upsidedown behind the couch that was against the wall.

"What are ya doing back there?", he asked after pulling you out.

"Niffty said there was treasure!", you smiled.

Alastor finds it adorable that you go to him when someone you don't know/scary person is in the hotel.

Sir Pentious is told to put all of his weapons away.

Everyone dubs you as Alastor's child. Even the Radio Demon himself.

Vaggie threatens Alastor after he jokes that you'll be a cannibal like him.

Of course he'd never do that but its funny to see Vagatha's and Husker's pissed off faces.

Alastor keeps up with the human news and learns that your father went to prison. So the Radio Demon waits for the man to fall.

Art will be provided. (Later)

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Art

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @faioula16 @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

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spideyjimin · 1 month ago

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sweet love | pjm

⤷ part of the dads universe

⏤ pairing: coffee shop owner!jimin x female reader

⏤ genre: parents au, exes to lovers, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ summary: jimin is the father of your four-year-old daughter, moon, and he’s also your ex. an ex you never considered getting back to, but that wasn’t until you both found yourself being single again. watching a movie with moon every sunday became the perfect excuse to flirt together discreetly. a flirt that brought back ten years of sweet love.

⏤ words: 14,388

⏤ warnings: mention of pregnancy, mention of breakup, sexual tension, flirting, long-haired!jimin, little moon is sick, mention of jealousy, some teasing, a lot of making out, mention of struggles after a breakup, praising, mention of postpartum struggles, some swearing, pet names, thigh riding, dirty talking, masturbation, dom!jimin, big cock!jimin, missionary, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, nipple play, creampie, and multiple orgasms

⏤ author’s note: hiiii guys ✨ so here you finally have sweet love!! as “before you”, it’s an old fic that i rewrote and in this one i’ve added extra scenes and conversations. it was definitely fun to rewrite it and make it part of the dads universe 🤗 hope you’ll enjoy it & happy jimin day 💞

Slowly, you open the door of your daughter’s bedroom.

“Are you ready?” You ask your small daughter.

She’s struggling to put on her little blue dress, but today, she insisted on dressing by herself. Apparently, a little girl at her school already does everything alone, and Moon, your four-year-old daughter, wants to be just like her. But in general, your little daughter has been showing you that she wants to become more and more independent.

You can totally understand her, you absolutely want her to do things on her own but it’s also okay to ask for a little help.

“Let me help, booboo.”

You rush in her direction to help her out with her dress. She doesn’t push you away or anything, she just lets you give her a hand. As you do so, you simply can’t believe that she is already four years old. For you, she’ll forever be the tiny little baby that she was at her birth.

Moon was born prematurely, almost five weeks before the due date. She was tiny and more fragile, but she quickly grew once outside and she easily gained weight. The doctors and nurses were actually very impressed by her fast growth. You still remember how proud you were of her ⏤ and you’re still very proud of everything she accomplishes.

But since the day she was born, you can only see her as a tiny little baby. Your tiny baby.

“Mommy, daddy is coming soon?” Her little eyes look up at you.

You quickly glance down at your watch to check what time it is.

“He should be coming any minute,” you tell her.

Moon’s father, Jimin, isn't your partner anymore, and today is the day he’s coming to pick her up to spend the week with her. When you broke up with Jimin, you agreed to share Moon’s custody. One week she’s with you, the next one she’s with Jimin. In the last three years, everything has been working out pretty well.

“Have you already chosen the movie you want to watch?”

For the past couple of weeks, the day you or Jimin pick up Moon at the other’s place, the three of you watch a movie together. You always come around 2 pm to enjoy a good afternoon together. Moon is always the one to choose the movie, and you and her father just let her do. It’s better if she enjoys this moment as much as she can. She doesn’t like watching tv, but she can open an exemption for her disney movies.

Since she’s a little baby, you’ve been watching all the disney movies with her so she would know them when she’s older. Today, she loves them so much that she just wants to watch them, making you and Jimin watch them again and again.

“Not sure yet,” she answers. “We can choose when daddy comes.”

“Okay, booboo.”

The dress is finally correctly put on your baby, she looks so beautiful. Every week, when Jimin takes her, it always breaks your heart. You perfectly know she’ll be in good hands but being apart from your baby is tough. If things depended on you, you’d be 24/7 around your daughter. But that’s life. She has a father who isn’t your partner anymore, and she deserves to be with him and to be loved by him. The only perk of sharing custody is that you can do your own things when Moon is at her father’s.

Your eyes roam at the tiny little girl standing in front of you, causing a smile to spread on your face. She looks a lot like her father. She isn’t totally a mini-living version of him, but she inherited a lot of his traits. There’s also a lot about her personality that reminds you of him. She clearly takes a lot after him. However, your favorite thing about their resemblance is the way she smiles with her eyes just like him.

The doorbell rings, making your daughter run to the entrance to open the door to her beloved daddy. She always does that when he comes, she always wants to be the first to see him. As you leave her bedroom to join the two of them, you hear Jimin’s voice.

“My little princess,” he says before grabbing his little daughter.

From afar, you watch this tender moment between a father and a daughter. Their reunion every two weeks melts your heart. It just perfectly shows the sweet and gentle love they have for each other. Even if today you aren’t with Jimin anymore, for sure, you chose the best father for your daughter.

As you see them today, you believe that breaking up was the best decision you both took three years ago. Things wouldn’t be as they are today, you’re completely sure about it. Most probably your little family would be more broken, and you’re convinced that you wouldn’t even speak with your ex which in the end would be absolutely sad.

At first, you deeply regretted offering your daughter this kind of dysfunctional family. For a long time, you were persuaded that she would be destroyed because of this separation that happened when she was only seven months old. However, as you and Jimin made everything to remain friends for her own good, you got to see your daughter blooming into this remarkable human being. In the end, this dysfunctional family is her kind of normal because you always made sure she came first.

“Hey,” you say as you get closer to the two of them.

Jimin’s face turns to look at you, his smile never leaving his face. Your heart squeezes when his eyes lock with yours. He looks absolutely stunning with that brown polo and black classic pants. His sleeves are rolled up, and you can see in his hands a black cap. His strong arms tightly hold your little princess who is now looking at you too.

Lately, things have changed between you and Moon’s father. After you ended things with your ex, a sexual tension has been growing between the two of you. At first, it was just a simple flirt between the two of you, something completely innocent. Honestly, you let it happen because it reminded you of the ten years you spent with him. It felt good to be back to how things were.

Seeing movies every sunday with your daughter is just an excuse to spend more time together. Honestly, it’s good to be able to spend more time together. Also, you’ve noticed how happier your baby is after the now-weekly movie session. In the end, this little excuse to flirt more and be more together has a lot of positive outcomes.

None of you has actually thought of what could eventually happen if you decide to ever go further than flirting. However, you are both trying to be extremely careful because there is Moon. Any decision that you might take will impact her first, and you both want to keep this dynamic that has been working for three years now.

“Hi, yn,” Jimin says as he takes a step closer in your direction.

The man presses a kiss on your cheek, causing an intense wave of heat to suddenly grow inside you. Lately, every time he presses a soft kiss on your cheeks or even if his body brushes against yours, you instantly feel extremely hot. The power the man holds over you still blows your mind.

Moon also takes advantage to press a kiss on your other cheek, and you smile as the two of them simply show you affection.

“Mama is really beautiful,” your daughter says as she looks now to her dad.

Your daughter always adores complimenting you, she probably takes that after her father. While you were together, the man would shower you with compliments, it was his way of showing his love for you. It honestly made you extremely happy, and now, you have this little pumpkin who constantly does the same.

“She really is!” Jimin agrees, his eyes still devouring you.

Your eyes don’t ever leave his figure. Jimin has been letting his hair grow lately, and you believe that it suits him really well. With the cap in his hand, you can totally picture him with it on his long hair. He must look like a whole damn snack. A snack you’d definitely love to take a bite.

“And both of you also are very handsome!” you reply with a bright smile on your face.

They are more than handsome. They are perfect. The most perfect human beings you have ever laid eyes on. Well, technically, Moon is only this perfect because the man holding her right now made love to you almost five years ago. She is perfect because her father is too.

For a brief moment, your eyes glance at the two of them, but every time they land on Jimin, all you can sense is the growing sexual tension. The tension between you and Jimin has reached its highest peak for the past few days. The man in front of you has been texting you a lot, being quite flirty with you, and honestly, he would have preferred if the two of you were alone. But today, he’s here for his daughter. For you, he already has some ideas behind his mind for another day.

“So, we’re going to watch that movie?” Jimin asks your little daughter.

His eyes move from you to his princess. Every time he looks at her, all he thinks about is the ten years of sweet love he shared with you. The ten years spent with you were definitely the best years of his life, and just like you, today, he doesn’t regret how things have changed between the two of you. For sure, he would have preferred to give another kind of family to his baby. If he could, he would give her the same kind of family he grew up in.

But it’s life.

Things can’t always be the way we want them, but Jimin has been trying to give the best to his daughter. Being on good terms with you has always been his top priority because he knows it will affect your little baby. Her happiness comes before anything else.

“Yes!” Moon exclaims with delight.

The three of you head to the living room, Jimin sitting on the couch while you grab the remote control. He sits on the couch with Moon on his lap, she gets all comfortable in her father’s arms before you quickly join them. As you turn the tv on, you take a seat next to your ex. Your little baby looks at you with a bright smile on her face, showing you just how much happiness this moment brings to her.

“Which movie do you want to watch?”

Moon starts thinking about what she’d like to see but knowing her, it’s probably going to take her three hours before she makes a decision.

“What about Frozen?” you suggest as you set Disney + on tv.

“No,” she says, shaking her head.

“Zootopia?” Jimin proposes.

Moon doesn’t seem convinced by your suggestions. That girl doesn’t watch that much tv but she’s still very tough when it comes to choosing something. On top of that, she’s also extremely tired today. Last night, she wasn’t feeling very well which led her to not sleep a lot. Most probably, she’s going to fall asleep during the movie but it’ll be okay. You prefer that honestly.

“Raya!” She almost screams as she sees the movie being suggested on the screen.

“Okay, booboo,” you say as you select Raya and the last dragon.

Moon gets all comfortable on her father’s lap after he pulls a blanket on her small body. You smile as you see them. The bond between a father and a daughter is truly magical. Every time you see Jimin and Moon interacting together, it reminds you of the close relationship you have with your father. He has always been there for you, he has always given you the right amount of love, and since you were a little baby, you’d do anything for him.

As you see Moon and Jimin, you know that they’ll share the same bond. It will for sure be different but it will be a very strong one. Plus, she’s a total daddy’s girl. She has Jimin wrapped around her little fingers, and he’ll do anything for her. For sure, in the future, she’ll be the one doing everything for him.

On the couch, you try to get as close as possible to them, but you also try to not stick your body against your ex's. Although things are getting to a completely new place with him, you’re just scared to do something completely inappropriate, especially with Moon around. When there’s just the two of you, it’s okay to be very touchy or to be flirty, but when Moon is around and awake, you try to be very careful with everything you do.

The movie starts, but you already know it by heart. Your daughter adores it so much, you have seen it a million times. But honestly, you also like the movie so you don’t mind watching it over and over again.

As the movie progresses, Jimin slowly moves closer to you while your baby is falling asleep in his lap. Since he’s really subtle, you don’t even notice his body getting closer to yours.

“She must be pretty exhausted,” Jimin whispers in your ear, causing you to jump with fear.

“Gosh, you scared me, Jimin!” You press your hand on your chest before looking up at him.

His face is very close to yours, his hot breath is falling on your face, and his dark orbs are glued on you. The last time you were this close was a week ago, at his place. Before the movie session, you both prepared some snacks in the kitchen, and you almost bumped into each other. That closeness almost caused you to kiss but it didn’t happen since Moon abruptly appeared in the kitchen.

Your heart is beating extremely fast in your chest. He’s way too close to you, and you don’t really know what to do. So your eyes glance down at your daughter to avoid looking at the man who has been haunting your wildest dreams for the past few weeks. As you look at your baby, you can see that she’s already sleeping peacefully on her daddy.

“She didn’t sleep well last night,” you admit as you watch her sleeping like a little angel. “She wasn’t feeling well, and she spent most of the night awake.”

Slowly, you glance up at him to catch a bit of his reaction. His facial expression gets softer as he realizes that his baby must be pretty exhausted. Nights like this are something you are both familiar with. Moon is still very young so she gets sick pretty easily which also impacts her sleep quality. Thankfully, she takes naps the day after to compensate.

“I’m actually relieved that she fell asleep now, I was scared she wouldn’t sleep at all today,” you tell him.

“But how was she this morning?” He asks with concern.

“She was sleepy but I put her in front of her favorite cartoons,” putting her favorite cartoons always makes her sleep, and it’s something that surprises you. “My parents were supposed to come but I canceled last minute to see if she could sleep a bit before you’d arrive.”

The entire morning, she was lying on the couch with her little milk in her hand and her eyes glued to the tv. Those things comfort her when she’s not doing well, and they always help to put her back to sleep. However, this morning, she only slept for about an hour.

“She didn’t sleep a lot, I guess she was just too excited to see you today.”

A small smile appears on his face. He also gets pretty excited when he needs to come to your place to pick her up. He loves to see his daughter.

“You could have told me,” he says. “I would have come on another day.”

“She’s not doing well, Jimin, and she needs her father.”

Just the thought of telling her that her daddy wouldn’t be coming today devastates you. You know how much she was looking forward to this exact moment. Nothing is as important as this right here.

“She would have cried if you didn’t come. She loves those movie sessions with us, she loves to see us coming to pick her up every Sunday. This is what helps her to feel good. I don’t want to take this away from her, especially when she’s not feeling well.”

Jimin presses a soft kiss on your forehead. Even if today you aren’t together anymore, he’s sure he chose the best mama for his baby. There’s nobody else he would have loved to have a kid with, and if he ever wants to have more, it’ll be with you. Nobody else. Even all the exes he has accumulated for the past three years can’t compare with you.

His mother told him once that no matter what, he’ll always be drawn to you. Not only you are his first love, but you’re also the mother of his child. Even if you’ll never be together anymore, the love and bond between you will always be special.

However, today, he’s convinced that it goes beyond that. Today, he’s convinced that he’ll never be able to love anyone else. Those last three years without you have taught him that. He has grown to understand that a life without you isn’t even possible.

The two of you started dating when you were only fifteen. You were very young but madly in love. Nobody thought things would work between you because you were very different. Jimin was the typical bad boy while you were more of a discreet girl. It almost looked like a cliché teenage movie, but eventually, the two of you completely changed the other.

After eight solid years of relationship, things started to get pretty rocky. All due to a friend you met at work. Jimin considered that he was clearly flirting with you, even in front of him when you strongly believed it wasn’t the case. Slowly, jealousy started to take a big place in your relationship and it destroyed the trust you both had for each other.

Since you didn’t want to lose Jimin, you took some distance from that coworker but it was obvious that your relationship with your boyfriend would never be the same. Things were different but you were doing everything to try to save it. In the middle of all that turbulence, you got pregnant, and you both worked harder to make it work.

Moon’s arrival clearly changed everything, but she didn’t help to improve your relationship. Everything was already falling apart when you got pregnant. When you realize it, you simply decide to end everything before it got worse. It wasn’t easy for the two of you. It was definitely hard to put behind ten years of love.

But it was the best decision for Moon.

“And how are you feeling?”

Jimin knows that if Moon hasn’t slept, you didn’t too. His little girl always needs her mama when she’s not feeling well because nobody can bring as much comfort to her as you do.

His concern warms your heart. Beyond being all flirty with you, Jimin has also shown a lot more love to you. In the end, you’re not just Moon’s mother. Slowly, you rest your head on his shoulder because you need to feel him in any way. He puts his head on top of yours, his heart being overwhelmed with love. Two of the women he loves the most are snuggled up against him.

“I’m tired, but I’ve known worse,” you whisper.

The first weeks of Moon’s life were a nightmare, and you survived them. She was very tiny and needed her mother and father. She’d cry a lot which was totally normal for a newborn since she wasn’t able to take care of herself. On top of that, she was born prematurely so you’d visit the pediatrician quite often to make sure she’d be alright.

So if you survived that period, you believe that nothing can be worse than that.

Although your daughter is sleeping peacefully, you and Jimin keep watching the movie together. This feels like heaven for the two of you. Almost like you were brought back to three years ago.

Once the movie is finished, Jimin takes Moon in his arms and places her on her little bed. He’s definitely not going to take her home now, he prefers that she sleeps. From her room’s door, you watch him put her carefully on the bed, an apparent smile growing on your face. He pushes the sheets on her tiny body before joining you.

As his eyes roam your face, he tries to think of a way to express his wish to stay longer. He’s thinking about how to formulate it without sounding like a desperate man. However, he ignores that you want him to stay.

“Do you want to stay until she wakes up?” you offer him.

Without any second thoughts, he nods, more than happy to stay longer than he was supposed to initially.

“A glass of wine?” you suggest.

“No, I still need to drive Moon to my place,” he tells you. “But if you have anything else, I won’t say no.”

Certainly, you have more than just wine to drink in your house. Your little daughter is too young to drink alcohol, but she’s obsessed with apple juice. You always make sure to have enough of her favorite juice at home so for sure you have some of it. The two of you leave her little room to head to the kitchen. Once you’re inside, you open the fridge to see what you have inside to drink.

“I have some leftovers of Moon’s apple juice in the fridge,” you tell your ex. “Or I have water,” you show him the bottle on the worktop of the kitchen.

“I’ll take the apple juice.”

His fridge is also full of apple juice just for his little baby. Every Saturday, he does some grocery shopping, and he buys everything Moon loves. He constantly makes sure to have all her little things in his house in case some emergency appears and she has to stay with him on the week she’s supposed to be with you.

You take the juice box as well as two glasses, and you fill them with the sweet juice. You hand one glass to Jimin before taking the other for yourself. His eyes never cease to glance at you. He takes one sip before putting his glass on the little table. The man comes closer to you, your heart hammering in your chest as the distance between the two of you slowly disappears.

Your mind keeps wondering what he’s going to do. After ten years of relationship, you can easily say that this man right here is completely unpredictable. He can go from sweet to dirty in a blink of an eye. And when he gets dirty, he really gets super dirty. His super dirty mind will bring the two of you to bed, his head between your thighs.

Once his face is super close to yours, your eyes are instantly fluttering shut. A smirk grows on his face as he watches you closing your eyes. His breathing caresses your face while his sweet scent lingers in the air. Your heart is beating extremely fast, ready to leave you at any moment.

“There’s something we started last week that Moon didn’t let us finish,” he whispers in your ear with his deepest voice.

Shivers run down your spine, and you keep your eyes close, too scared to take a look at the man in front of you. You perfectly can picture the expression on his face right now. For sure, the dirtiest smirk is on his face, and his eyes are filled with lust. That expression will for sure have you so weak that you’ll instantly fall into his arms.

“What are you talking about?” you tease him a bit.

You perfectly know what he’s referring to, but it won’t hurt to just play a tiny bit with him. Well, most probably, Jimin will tease you a million times more.

“Do you want me to remind you?”

Instantly, you open your eyes, your heart pounding extremely fast as you realize what is about to happen. For the past week, your mind has been thinking over and over again about the moment where you almost kissed. That moment, you desperately wanted to taste his lips on yours again but Moon put an end to that.

Jimin’s eyes are hungrily devouring you while he waits for an answer from you. Your eyes move from his eyes to his plump lips, resting a little too much on them while you wonder how it will feel to kiss him again. Will it be like before? Or will it feel like kissing him for the first time? The more you think about it, the more you want to taste them.

“Yes, remind me what Moon interrupted,” you almost beg.

The black-haired man doesn’t waste another second before pressing his lips against yours for a fervent kiss. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you while he hungrily kisses you.

After three years, you’re kissing again. It seems unbelievable.

His lips are extremely soft, but you were kind of expecting it. His plump lips have always felt soft when you both kiss, and you always loved that. However, even if you were expecting this softness, this kiss feels like the first one. This seems like it’s the first time you’re doing it while you have ten years of kissing history. Slowly, he starts moving his lips to passionately kiss you.

Soon enough, his tongue is licking your lips so you can open your mouth. His tongue is desperate to meet yours after all this time. He’s desperate to deepen this kiss because just your lips on each other aren’t enough for him. He has been dreaming of this for the past couple of days.

His hands move to your waist before bringing your body closer to his. He’s craving to feel more friction and to simply feel your body pressed against his. This sudden closeness after three years of simply co-parenting is driving both of you completely crazy. The two of you are starting to pant hard but it clearly doesn’t matter.

His hands snail up to cup your face in them while the kiss becomes more and more ardent. This kiss is clearly indicating how desperate you both are for each other. The sexual tension has really been too much to handle lately.

Out of breath, you break the kiss before pressing your forehead against his. Jimin is smiling, his eyes glued to your face while you try to catch your breath. Even after all those years, he still finds you extremely pretty and attractive.

As you look down at his hands, you notice the tattoo on his wrist. Four years ago, a couple of days after Moon’s birth, he got the number 13 tattooed. Not only does it stand for his birth date but it also stands for Moon’s birth date. Just like her father, she was born a 13. That tattoo always warms your heart in unexplained ways.

“We should probably move to my room in case this goes any further,” you suggest before looking up at him.

“But do you want to take this further?” Jimin asks.

Even if your body is showing all the apparent signs that you want to do more than just kissing, he wants to be completely sure you want this. He doesn’t desire you to regret this tomorrow morning when you wake up. Even though this might be a simple one-night stand, he doesn’t want you to regret it.

“More than you can imagine,” you reply before pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

The father of your child kisses you back, more than excited to show you how much he misses you. You intertwine your fingers together before guiding you both to your bedroom. The two of you try to be as quiet as possible since Moon is peacefully sleeping, and you don’t want to wake her up after the terrible night she had.

Once inside your bedroom, you make sure to close the door. It wouldn’t be a great idea to have Moon seeing you doing unholy things with her father. Hopefully, she’ll sleep for a good two extra hours, and you won’t need to worry about being caught by your daughter. But it’s better to take precautions.

Jimin’s eyes roam the room where he hasn’t ever come in three years. After your breakup, you sold your shared apartment to move into a new one. The memories shared in that place were too intense and none of you wanted to stay there. Quickly after, you moved into this apartment but the only room Jimin never got to see was your bedroom.

There is barely any decoration. There’s just a big bed in the middle of the room, two nightstands, one on each side of the bed, and there are some pictures here and there, mostly pictures of Moon. This room reminds him of his own bedroom.

After living with you, it was hard to be on his own. A bedroom without you by his side was also extremely hard so he decided to put the bare minimum. However, his bedroom feels constantly empty, almost as if someone is missing. Today, he’s convinced that you’re the one missing.

Jimin kisses you again once his eyes have done a quick tour of your bedroom. Naturally, you move to your bed where you know things will take a sexual turn. You can still stop things if you desire but your body is desperately craving for your ex. Your body needs are completely clouding your mind, and you honestly don’t care. Right now, all you want is to be intoxicated by your first love.

As you break the kiss, you take his brown polo off, revealing his bare skin to your hungry eyes. You enjoy the view while being sat on his lap; his torso is in full display just for you. The first thing that catches your eyes is his ‘nevermind’ tattoo, it’s still extremely big but you always loved this tattoo so damn much. Then, you can’t help but notice how toned his torso has become.

“You’ve been working out a lot for the past three years,” you say as your fingers touch his rib tattoo.

“After Moon’s birth, I became so lazy, and it was time to work out again like I used to.”

Jimin used to work out so much before your daughter’s arrival. There wasn’t a day where he wasn’t at the gym working out or he wasn’t doing any sport. He used to dance a lot as well as doing karate.

“Do you still dance?”

Your fingers trace from his tattoo to his chest, causing Jimin to shiver at the feeling of your fingertips brushing against his skin.

“Of course, I never stopped,” he replies before pressing a quick kiss on your lips. “Dancing saved me after our breakup.”

Hearing that your breakup equally devastated him breaks your heart. Jimin deserves all the best in the world because he’s such a beautiful soul. Never before have you met someone like him. He was your sunshine when you were together. Unfortunately, things weren’t working anymore, and it was definitely better to simply let go even if it was painful.

And it was.

Raising Moon on your own and not having Jimin constantly by your side was extremely hard. For sure, it was the most complicated time you faced in your life. But today, things are better and that experience made you grow as a human.

You press your lips against his, expecting to reassure him in some way. He licks your bottom lip before he grips it with his teeth, making you moan. As he hears your sweet moan, his dick twitches inside his pants. As the sweet moan leaves your lips, you open your mouth, and Jimin seizes the occasion to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Another moan leaves your pretty lips at the feeling, and unintentionally, Jimin flexes his toned thigh. That simple action is felt in all the right places in your body, making your pussy clench around emptiness.

Jimin instantly smirks, looking like the devil himself, and his hands snail down on your body to take off your shirt. His fingers softly caress your back as he brings you closer to him. His soft gestures create goosebumps all over your skin and a small whimper leaves your lips.

His lips come closer to your ear before he whispers in the shell of it. “Take your pants off, honey.”

Slowly, you stand up to undress in front of the man. He bites his lower lip as you unbutton your jeans, his length growing harder in his pants at the sight you’re offering him. He hasn’t seen you dressed in so little clothing in more than four years. The last time it happened was during your pregnancy. After Moon’s birth, you simply avoid having any sexual interactions.

His cock twitches when he sees you wearing only your underwear. Even after giving birth to his favorite human, you look fine as hell. The thought of knowing that in a couple of minutes you won’t be wearing anything is slowly driving him crazy.

When you start walking closer to him, Jimin adjusts himself in the bed, his back pressed against the headboard. He spreads his legs, subtly making you understand to take a seat on only one leg. There’s no doubt that he wants you to ride his thigh, and nothing in the world would make you happier than doing it.

Dry humping is something you used to do a lot when you were together. Your sex drive was insanely high during your whole relationship, and you’d have sex in very unusual places, even in public. It was hard to resist each other.

As you place yourself on his thigh, Jimin’s eyes roam your body. He bites harder on his bottom lip, especially once your body is on his thigh. This is highly alluring.

“You look like a fucking dream!” He whispers.

In those three years, he has seen a very huge amount of women but you are for sure the prettiest he has ever seen. He still perfectly remembers how he constantly compared all those women to you. It was most probably toxic, but you’re the only person he has ever found pretty.

The compliment makes you smile as you know it’s a sincere one. After giving birth to Moon, it was hard to look at yourself in the mirror. Your body changed so much but with time, you learned to love it even more than before. That body you were despising was the first home to your baby and it also provided her all the nutrients she needed after she joined you. That was more than magical. Your body deserved to be loved for that.

With the way you’re sitting on his leg, Jimin now has a proper view of your black laced panties. They hide enough of your private area but they also reveal just enough to make him want to see your pussy. His eyes are completely glued to your clothed pussy pressed against his dark pants.

As you’re scared that Moon will wake up in the next few minutes, you waste no time in rolling your hips against his toned thigh. One of the perks of all the dancing and karate classes he took younger is his extremely toned thighs. Even when he stops working out or dancing, they are still super toned.

But damn, those thighs have already procured you so much pleasure.

“Fuck, yn,” he groans when you start moving your hips against his thigh.

Jimin presses his lips on yours for a filthy kiss, his tongue passing past your lips to meet yours. This feels more than good. He forgot how everything about you can be addictive, and damn, he wants to do more than this. He wants to fuck you senseless until all you can think about is him.

As his tongue plays with yours inside your mouth, his hands find their way to your waist and guide your hips as you’re straddling his thigh. A small moan leaves your lips but the man in front of you swallows it directly. Those intimate moments between you are something he has missed dearly. The connection you have is something extremely unique that he never experienced before with anyone else.

Even if he wasn’t virgin when he met you, he truly discovered everything with you. The two of you explored so many things in your sexuality, and it made the bond between you grow stronger. When he looks into your eyes, he can exactly tell what you want, he doesn’t need you to verbally express it, something he couldn’t understand with any other girl.

Your first love pushes his thigh firmly against your clothed pussy before flexing the muscle once more.

“I like how you’re riding my thigh, yn,” he whispers against your lips.

As you’re slowly moving your hips faster, you place your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself. Jimin shivers as your soft hands touch his body.

“But I want to feel you properly,” he adds.

Of course, he’s enjoying this moment with all his soul but he craves more. One of his hands slides down on your body to tug aside the fabric of your panties until your clit is directly pressed against his black pants. A breath falls from your lips as you drag your pussy against the thick material of his pants.

Jimin pulls you firmly against his flexed muscle, and once his hands are back on your waist, he quickens the pace of your hips. Although you’re fighting as much as you can to not moan a lot, it’s almost impossible due to all the pleasure you’re feeling at the moment. This will for sure wake up your little baby. A trail of barely audible moans leaves your mouth, loving the friction of his pants against your pussy.

“I wish you didn’t have to hold back your moans, honey,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’d love to hear you moan my name.”

Jimin is a master when it comes to dirty talking. He just knows what to say and when to do it. In your ten years of relationship, he was able to make you come just with words which is extremely incredible.

As you’re riding his thigh harder and faster, his cock gets harder and tighter inside his pants. If he doesn’t do anything right now, he’ll explode in his pants. While you’re still completely euphoric by the way you’re riding his thigh, he lowers his pants and underwear a tiny bit to allow his cock to slap against his lower stomach.

When you notice the little monster being freed, your eyes glance down at it. His cock takes your breath away, standing proud in between your bodies. His fingers grab a hold of his cock before moving them up and down the length. This sight alone gets you wetter.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his head slowly going back at the feeling of his fingers on his length and your clit rubbing against him. “You’re doing this so well, honey.”

Your teeth bite your bottom lip as you stare deep into his eyes. The intimacy of the eye contact with the friction against your clit makes the wave of pleasure grow intensely inside you. You know that you won’t last long before your orgasm hits you hard.

“Pleasuring yourself on my thigh while I touch myself,” he growls in your ear while his hand keeps pumping his cock. “It’s extremely hot, honey.”

Jimin runs his thumb over the tip of his cock, his teeth gripping his bottom lip between his teeth. The pace of his strokes on his cock follows the pace of your hips working on his thigh. You can see on his face that it’s also a matter of minutes or seconds before he’s coming on his hand.

“Fuck, yn,” his eyes glance down at your throbbing pussy rubbing against his thigh, “you’re doing it perfectly.”

At his words, you buck your pussy faster against his thigh. You can feel that you’re getting closer and closer to hitting your orgasm.

“Jimin,” his gaze meets yours once again when you say his name, “I’m so close...” you almost whimper.

The hand resting on your waist snails down on your body, his thumb starting to circle on your clit. It instantly sends you over the edge, the wave of pleasure hitting you hard. You bite your lips and close your eyes at the overwhelming feeling. You try as hard as possible to not moan as you don’t want to make too much noise.

The sight of you coming undone makes him come. Just like you, he bites his lips to refrain any moan to leave his lips. Your daughter’s sleep is extremely important. As the orgasm overwhelms him, cum flows on his hand and some spurts of cum hit his abs.

Your eyes glance down with marvel at the way he’s coming. His hot cum flowing from his head makes you want to lick it. Before any of you gets the time to do or say anything else, you hear the handle of your bedroom’s door moving.

“Shit, she’s awake,” you swear before quickly standing up to put your clothes back on.

As you’re putting the clothes on again, you give Jimin some towels to clean himself before he also puts his clothes back on. A loud knock is quickly heard, and Moon’s voice calls for you. Her little sleepy voice melts your heart instantly, causing you to feel sorry to have closed the door. But damn, you don’t regret anything that happened with Jimin.

Moon knocks again at the door before speaking once more. “Mama, why is your door closed?”

Once you’re fully dressed, you take one quick look at Jimin. His clothes are again on him but his hair is all messed up. Anyone looking at him can perfectly understand that he just had an orgasm. A small smile appears on your face.

Quickly, you run to the door and open it to your baby. To her surprise, she sees both her parents in the same room. That is something quite unexpected for her, but she’s happy that her mama and dadda get along so well.

“Why is dadda in your room?” She asks, her little finger pointing to her father.

As she raises the question, you know that you have like five seconds to come up with something otherwise it’ll be suspicious. Jimin gets closer to the two of you, his hand pushing his hair back to arrange it a bit.

“We were taking a little nap while you were sleeping,” he presses a small kiss on her forehead before taking her in his arms. “But how are you feeling, my little princess?”

Jimin knows that if he completely changes the conversation’s topic, Moon will forget about this little weird moment. None of you ever imagined being interrupted by your little daughter during such a moment, but that for sure made it unforgettable.

“Tired,” she simply replies before pressing her little head on the crook of his neck.

Your heart instantly melts, and you can’t help but press a soft kiss on her forehead. She’s absolutely adorable but you know that she’s sick. For sure, tomorrow, you’ll have to go to the doctor with her to see what’s going on with your little baby. You and Jimin hate to see her like that, you feel extremely powerless.

Jimin’s aware that he can’t just take her home like that, she needs her mama more than anything else right now.

“I’ll take you home with me now, baby,” he starts saying. “What do you think if mama comes with us?”

His eyes glance down at you to see your reaction. He believes it’d be a good idea that the three of you go to his place so Moon can fall asleep easier tonight.

“If mama is okay to come with us,” he adds.

Your hand brushes back your daughter’s hair so you can see her little face even if she’s hiding most of it. Nothing will ease your heart than going with them to Jimin’s place. Tonight, you know you won’t be able to sleep if she’s far away from you while being sick.

“I will come with you, booboo. Is that okay for you?” You ask her before pressing a sweet kiss on her plump cheek.

Of course, you’ll only go if she wants it. You would never want to make her feel uncomfortable in any way. You’ve already been a lot of times to his place when she was feeling sick, and it wouldn’t be something new. But this time around is different, you’ll be leaving your place together to go to his place. This never happened before, and you’re a bit scared that she wouldn’t feel comfortable.

“Yes, I want mama,” she says with a very little voice.

Your heart aches at her little voice. You hug Jimin to have your daughter in between the two of you. Feeling loved during this hard time for her will for sure help her, you know it. She always calls for the missing parent when she’s sick.

“I’ll come then,” you whisper.

Although this little hug is mostly for your daughter, your and Jimin’s hearts are also overwhelmed with love. This sweet and soft moment right after such a wild moment feels like going to heaven. The three of you close your eyes to enjoy this very rare moment.

This is family, an unbreakable bond between parents and their children.

The three of you are in Jimin’s kitchen.

Moon is sleeping once again in her father’s arms, she fell asleep right after eating her dinner, and you and Jimin are talking. After arriving at his place, you and her father prepared dinner together. You also took her temperature, and it’s unusually high. There’s no doubt that tomorrow, you’ll call her pediatrician to check up on her health. Something is definitely wrong with her, and it breaks your heart.

“Tomorrow, I’ll call the pediatrician to check if she has some availabilities.”

Your fingers run through her soft black hair, the exact same hair color as her father’s. She looks like a little angel when she sleeps, and when she’s sick, her little cheeks get pink which makes her look even cuter.

“I’m so worried,” you add.

Jimin’s eyes move from his daughter to you.

“She’s going to be okay, she’s a little fighter like her mama,” he tries to reassure you. “She’ll be fine in a week or so.”

“I know but my little mom’s heart always gets so concerned when she gets sick.”

His face gets closer to yours before his lips press a soft kiss on top of your head. This tender gesture really warms your heart. You’re more than thankful to have him by your side when it gets hard with Moon.

“It’s normal, but I’ll always be by your side, yn.”

When your eyes look up at the man holding your baby, you close the small distance between your faces by kissing him. Those past few days and especially today have confirmed that the flame that you thought had died three years ago is still there. Your heart still deeply loves Jimin. Your ex wasn’t expecting this at all but it definitely brings hope for the future.

“Thank you, Jimin.”

He presses another quick kiss on your lips.

“We've been on this together since the second Moon bloomed in your stomach,” his eyes look down at the little princess sleeping in his arms.

Being a father has been the biggest achievement of his life. Nothing brings more happiness than seeing his daughter bloom into the little person she’s becoming. She’s very strong and independent which always makes him feel pride.

Becoming the father of Moon only happened because you carried her for nine months before giving birth to her. He’s a father because the two of you worked together to bring her to life and to raise her. So, he’ll forever be thankful for it.

“I’ll put her in her bed, she’ll be more comfortable,” Jimin says before the two of you stand up. He holds Moon tightly in his arms as he walks to her little bedroom. You open the door for him, and once again, he puts her on her bed.

Hopefully, tonight, she’ll be able to sleep a bit more than she did last night as well as during the day. Your eyes glance down at your baby with concern. All you hope is that tomorrow she’ll feel at least a bit better because you won’t be able to handle seeing her like this for a long time.

Jimin leaves her bedroom after he makes sure that she’s safe under her bedsheets. Since Moon is deeply afraid of the dark, he leaves the door open so the light of the hallway lightens her room.

“Would you like to stay a little longer?” he asks while you’re walking in the hallway. “I’d like to suggest bringing you home,” he quickly glances at his daughter’s bedroom, “but there’s Moon.”

Jimin would have loved to drive you home so he’d get a tiny bit more time with you. However, his little princess is sleeping in her little bed. He can’t leave her here or to take her with you.

Your heart is beating fast. It’s a bit surprising that he’s proposing you to stay at his place. Well, it occurs you that maybe ⏤ just maybe ⏤ he wants to finish what you started at your place. You wouldn’t mind at all to end what you began earlier. Sex with Jimin has always been mind blowing. For sure, after three years, you still have to rediscover each other in bed.

“Well, I’d like to if you let me,” you finally say with obvious nervousness in your voice.

A bright smile appears on his face as he hears your words. He doesn’t dare to look at you as he also feels nervous. Obviously, he likes you and wants to maybe give another chance to your relationship.

But being around you, and even thinking of spending the night with you, makes him feel like this is all new. It makes him feel like he’s back to high school when he was trying to flirt with you more than ten years ago.

“There’s nothing I’d like more, yn,” he says while finally looking at you.

You’re now at the entrance of the living room, standing face to face. He leans against the outline of the door while crossing his arms against his chest, his eyes never once leaving yours. For a moment, you simply don’t speak, only looking at each other.

His eyes are sparkling, just like they did when you started dating thirteen years ago. You wonder if you’re looking at him the same way. Definitely, you really want to stay a little longer with him. It feels good to be around him. It feels good to be wanted all over again by your first love.

“In all honesty, yn,” Jimin says after a little while. “I would really like to give us a second chance.”

The past three years, he has been hooking up with a lot of girls. At first, it was to drown his sorrows, to get you out of his head. He knew he’d never find love in those women, and honestly, he didn’t want to love any of them. The pain of the breakup was still hard to handle.

However, a year ago, he fell in love with Gayeong. He really loved her, he even introduced her to Moon. In his mind, he was certain that he’d be with her for a long time. On your side, you were dating Seokhoon for two years. This new blended family was working just fine for all of you. Moon even adored Gayeong and Seokhoon.

Nevertheless, things with them ended. It was hard but slowly, everything changed between you. What was an innocent flirt turned into Sunday’s movies and suddenly, you’re here, wanting to give each other another chance.

And now, your heart is hammering like crazy in your chest, ready to burst any second.

“Flirting with you lately has brought me back to when we were fifteen,” a little smile appears on his face. “To when I was trying to desperately get you.”

You still remember perfectly how it felt to be chased by the one and only Jimin, the popular guy every girl desired to be with. You were young and very naive as well, but he was the first man to have ever truly seen you. Of course, you really wanted to start dating him, but you still make it a bit difficult for him to see how far he’d go to have you.

However, once you got together, you thought it’d be for life. Time prouved you wrong. Yet, lately, you’ve been feeling like probably he has been the one since the beginning. Maybe, you just needed some time apart to grow.

“Things are for sure different now due to the fact that we have a daughter,” his smile grows bigger as he mentions his daughter. “But the feeling is the same,” he pauses for a hot minute. “I want you.”

Right there and then, you feel the world freezing instantly. Even though it was pretty clear that he’s been wanting you back in your life, it’s something different to hear it from his mouth. It makes it feel real.

Although it warms your heart to hear those words, there is a harsh reality. Today, you have a daughter, and obviously, she’d understand you’re together. Most probably, she’d be super happy that her parents are back together. So, if things go wrong all over again, she’ll suffer the most from it.

There’s no doubt that no matter what, you’ll keep it cordial with Jimin. But it’d be too painful because this time around, Moon will be hurt.

“Jimin,” you break the small distance between you. Your face gets super serious, and Jimin almost instantly regrets his words. “As you said, things are different now. We can’t just step into a relationship like that. There’s Moon. If this all goes wrong, she’d be the first impacted.”

His eyes briefly close. The last thing he wants is to cause any harm to his daughter, but he can’t just push away his feelings for you. It’ll be unbearable to be around you and not be able to love you the way he wants.

“I know, yn,” he opens his eyes. “She’s always the person I put first under any circumstances,” his right hand travels to your cheek to caress it. “But right now, you’re the person I want to be with,” you close your eyes. “This whole thing of watching movies together wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t love you,” he marks a little break. “I never stopped loving you, yn. Never,” he insists on his last word.

Jimin being vulnerable like he is right now doesn’t happen often. Most of the time, he hides his feelings, too scared to be hurt. During your ten years of relationship, he wouldn’t hide anything from you. But he closed himself to you once you broke up. So this right here warms your heart beyond comprehension.

You rest your hand on top of his, stroking it with your thumb. “I don’t want to get hurt,” evident sadness can be heard in your voice. “I don’t want our daughter to get hurt.”

Your daughter’s father wishes he could promise that none of you will get hurt, but it’s a promise he can’t make. The future isn’t predictable. However, he can promise he will do everything in his power to avoid hurting any of you.

“I can’t promise that, yn,” he murmurs.

Hearing those words break your heart. It’s obvious he can’t guarantee that, life is full of surprises after all. The proof is that you broke up three years ago when you thought he’ll forever stood by your side.

“But I can promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to not do it,” you open your eyes to look at your first love. “That’s all I can do.”

You press your head against his chest while closing your eyes. Although you wish he’d say something else, you perfectly know that it’s the only thing he can promise. And it goes both ways. Obviously, you want to try again but there is a possibility where you’re the one hurting him. There is possibility where you’re responsible for your daughter’s pain.

Jimin wraps his arms around you before pressing a gentle kiss on top of your head. For a while, you simply stay like that. There’s nothing to be said nor that needs to be said. This is a moment you both need. Of course, there’s been a lot of flirting, and teasing lately which inevitably lead to what happened at your place. You don’t regret it. But it opens the door to a possibility where you both give another shot to your relationship.

However, it leaves you wondering if it is a good idea.

“Can I stay for the night?” you finally break the silence.”I don’t want to stay too far from Moon,” you try to find an excuse.

“Yes,” he instantly replies. “I’ll leave you my bed and I’ll sleep in the couch.”

This sounds like the correct approach, especially since you’re not sure about anything right now. Even though there’s nothing more you’d want but to sleep next to him, it’s better like that.

“I can sleep in the couch,” you tell him. “I almost invited myself to your place so no need to make you sleep on the couch.”

“You’re my guest so I’ll never make you sleep in my couch,” he starts saying. “And my couch can turn into a bed so don’t worry, yn.”

Well, knowing Jimin, you can argue as much as you can, he’ll stand his position. There’s no way he’ll let you sleep on the couch so no need to keep arguing. It’ll just be a waste of time for both of you.

“Okay,” you say.

You don’t let go of Jimin for a solid ten more minutes. It feels good to be in his arms, it feels good to only be intoxicated by his sweet scent. There’s no other place you’d want to be right now.

After that, he guids you to his bedroom. This is a place you’ve never seen before. It feels like you’re violating his intimate area. Your eyes wander in this very simply decorated room while he grabs some bedsheets.

“Would you want pajamas?” he proposes.

“If you don’t mind.”

Jimin simply nods before handing you one of his pajamas. He doesn’t have many pajamas, he only used them during winter as it gets very cold. Otherwise, he doesn’t use them at all.

“Thanks,” you smile at him while grabbing it.

Your baby’s daddy smiles back at you. “I’ll let you sleep. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” you tell him.

“Goodnight, yn,” he whispers before pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Goodnight, Jimin,” you reply with your eyes closed.

This morning, Moon woke up feeling great which was a huge contrast with how she was yesterday. But it eased your mother’s heart. So you took the decision with Jimin to not go to the pediatrician today, but you’ll keep a close eye on your baby.

When she saw you this morning, she was more than happy. She definitely wasn’t expecting it, you could tell it by the way her eyes were sparkling. She was even happier when both her parents dropped her at school. Afterwards, Jimin drove you to your place so you could get ready to go to work.

This weekend was intense, but one you’ll for sure never forget. You flirted with your ex-boyfriend, then had sex with him, and finally, had an openhearted conversation.

The entire day, your mind was constantly replaying Jimin's words, wondering what to do. However, what you’re certain of is that you want to have a conversation with him. So, you texted him that your mother would pick up Moon at school.

Jimin is the proud owner of a coffee shop. He opened it a couple of years ago, it was his dream. It wasn’t easy at first. There were a lot of expenses and it wasn’t easy to find customers. But slowly with time, it became easier.

As you step inside the little shop, you instantly notice that there are quite a lot of people. You aren’t actually very surprised. This coffee shop is currently a bit popular on instagram and tiktok, and in some way, it makes you incredibly proud of him.

Your eyes look around, admiring how it has been decorated. It’s been a while since you last came here. Well, if you think about it, the last time you were here was at the very early beginning. This shop has existed for like four years, it’s as old as Moon. So, it definitely has been awhile.

Jimin now has four employees helping him out with everything. At some point, it became just too much for one person so he slowly hired new people. Right now, he is behind the cash register, talking with someone. He’s smiling at the person, and you can’t help but find him adorable.

As he looks up, his gaze meets yours before his smile grows bigger. Although you informed him you’d like to speak, he wasn’t expecting you to actually come here. He thought that you’d like him to come to your place or something like that. However, it’s a very pleasant surprise.

You walk in his direction, queueing as it’d be rude to just pass before everyone else. You look at menu hanging behind Jimin, thinking about what you’d like to order. When you’re finally in front of him, you both look at each other with the brightest smiles.

“What would you like to order?” he asks.

“Well, I’d like to order the owner,” you teasingly say, causing Jimin to blush. “Together with a simple latte with soy milk and a portion of banana bread.”

For a brief moment, your baby daddy seems to be thinking about what he could reply to this.

“I can give you all of that,” he replies. “For the owner though, you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“No problem,” you know you both look like two idiots right now but you absolutely don’t care. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, it’s on the house.”

“I can’t accept that, Mister Park,” you instantly say with evident seriousness.

Jimin sighs. If he even tries to argue, he knows it’s a lost cause. He knows how damn well you can be very subborn. So he ends up making you pay for your order. You then head to the counter on your right to wait for your order, but the wait isn’t long as a server quickly brings it to you. Afterwards, you look for a place to sit while you wait for Jimin, aka the man who owns your heart.

Since it’s almost closing time, it slowly gets less and less crowded. Once there are barely any customer left, Jimin takes a seat on the chair in front of yours, your bodies being only separated by a table.

“Wasn’t expecting you to come,” he smiles at you.

“Me neither,” you reply. “I decided last minute,” you continue. “I was going to wait at my place, but then I wanted to see your coffee shop.”

Jimin doesn’t know how to describe how he’s feeling right now. For sure, it’s been a long time that he hasn’t seen you here. Last time, Moon was only a couple of months old.

“I’m very glad you came.”

Seeing him this happy warms your heart beyond comprehension. On top of that, being around him lately also makes you happy. He’s obviously a fucking tease, but he’s someone you deeply care for and love too.

“Me too.”

“So where do you want to go?” he asks while placing his elbows on the table to rest his head on his hands.

“Maybe to my place?” you suggest. “Or yours if you prefer.”

“Both suit me,” he says. “Then, we can go to yours.”

He isn’t sure what you want to talk about, but as long as he gets to spend a tiny bit more time with you, it makes him happy.

You simply nod at his answer, and he quickly informs one of his employees to close the store since he’s leaving now. In a matter of seconds, he’s back again so you both can go to your place.

Jimin drives you to your place, and quite honestly, it’s incredibly hot to see him driving. As you sometimes eye him during the drive, seeing him so focus reminds you of your own daughter. She has the same face when she’s deeply concentrate. It always startles you how much she takes after him.

Once you arrive at your place, you both take a seat on the couch. Your love interest looks at you with evident joy, you don’t doubt at all that he’s glad to be here with you. Honestly, you’re happy as well.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday’s conversation,” you decide to not waste any second and jump directly into the much needed conversation. Jimin nods. “I guess you could understand by all that has been going on that I want you too.”

Jimin’s heart starts beating crazily in his chest. He’s more than aware of it, but it still makes him feel something to hear those words coming out of your mouth.

“I also never stopped loving you, and honestly, I only realized it when this whole Sunday’s movies happened.”

During your relationship with Seokhoon, you thought you had gotten over Jimin. It wasn’t easy sometimes to see him when you’d pick up Moon, but you were convinced you had moved on. Honestly, it was just a mirage. You never stopped loving him, and flirting with him is what made you realized it.

“I guess I will never stop,” you add. “I would also like to give us a second chance, but I’m so scared of everything.”

Jimin gets closer to you.

“I’m afraid to be losing you all over again, I’m afraid to unintentionally hurt you, and Moon, I’m afraid that this time around it won’t work, and I’m afraid of too many things,” you admit. “This time around, I feel like our decision will have a bigger impact on everything.”

Jimin is beyond grateful that you openly speak about your concerns. It isn’t easy to be vulnerable in front of someone we love.

“For sure, it will,” he tells you. “So much has happened since we started dating thirteen years ago, but we still want to be together.” Jimin makes a small break, his eyes roaming your face. “It won’t be easy, but we can at least try. We can still give each other another chance while still being careful.”

You bite your lower lip as you think about the situation. There is no doubt you’ll keep flirting as you still deeply crave each other. There will be more sex since you can’t resist each other. No matter what you decide, it won’t change the reality. At least, if you give your relationship another shot, on top of all this physical attraction, there will be romance.

“However, I’m not really sure how we could hide this from Moon, but we’ll have to be careful,” he says.

“Me neither,” you say. “She was so happy this morning to see us.”

You can still picture her radiant smile and the joy on her face when she spotted you at her dadda’s place. Naturally, you wish to constantly see her this happy but for now, it’s best she can’t imagine you being together again.

“Yeah, she really was,” Jimin smiles with evident joy.

Right now, being with Jimin is the only thing you desire with your entire soul, but as you said before, you’re simply afraid of too many things. However, for the entirety of the day, you’ve only been thinking about the fact that if you don’t try, you’ll deeply regret it. You can’t predict the future and there is a possibility where this doesn’t end well, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.

Maybe you’ll be extremely happy and fulfilled.

“I love being around you,” you say. “I really love our Sunday’s movie sessions, and I would like to turn it into an everyday thing.” Your heart is beating crazingly in your chest. “I’m very afraid, but I want to try because I love you.”

Jimin’s heart is ready to burst any minute.

“I just want us to protect Moon as we’ve been doing so far and to only let her know once we believe it’s the right time.”

Moon’s father wraps you around his arms as he’s noticeably happy. Even though he expected this conversation to be about a possible relationship, he never thought that you’d actually say that you wanted to try. He believed that you’d needed some more time before noticing the obvious.

However, he’s extremely happy to hear those words.

This hug catches you by surprise but it’s a very welcomed one. Jimin’s embraces are your favorite place on earth. Even when you were going through a break up, he hugged you a couple of times and it felt great. For a minute, it felt like everything was still going well.

“I’ll promise I’ll do everything to never hurt you,” he whispers in your ear.

Your eyes flutter shut to savour this wonderful moment.

“Me too,” you whisper as well.

Those promises are the only ones you can make. All the rest will obviously depend on external factors, but hopefully, it won’t cause any harm to your relationship.

Less than a year ago, none of you imagined this moment would happen. Back then, you were in happy relationships so this would be the last thing you’d think of. But you’re definitely in very different places today.

When you put an end to the hug, you fervently and desperately kiss each other. You kiss as if there’s no tomorrow. His tongue meets yours in your mouth, your teeth bite his lower lips, and soft moans escape both your moans as your eagerly kiss each other. It’s a kiss filled with passion.

“We didn’t finish what we started here yesterday,” he says against your lips and out of breathe. “Would you mind if we finish it?”

Your eyes look up at him. One of his hands place a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well, it depends what you have in mind…” You tease him before biting your lower lip.

A smirk grows on his face before he gets even closer to you.

“I was planning to have sex with you.” He whispers in your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

Instead of replying, you just press your lips again against his to kiss him. There’s no hesitation when he kisses you back, enjoying every second of being able to kiss you again.

“Maybe we should move to my bedroom,” you say.

Jimin simply stands up before holding your hand and rapidly walking to your bedroom. By the way he’s walking fast, you can tell how needy he’s right now.

“Take your clothes off, honey,” he says once you've reached your bedroom. “I need you, now.”

You simply nod before stripping for him. The urge can be felt as you quickly take off your clothes while he does the exact same thing. Jimin doesn’t want to wait anymore, he wants to have you in every possible way. After all, it feels like he has been waiting three years for this moment.

You also take off your underwear, offering him the opportunity to see your body completely naked for the first time in three years. Jimin takes the time to roam your body once he’s also naked. He still remembers how your body was before you split. Although most of your pregnant belly had disappeared, it wasn’t how it was before you got pregnant.

But today, as he looks at you, it almost feels like you’ve never been pregnant. There are no visible indications of pregnancy, but your body has clearly changed. He can’t really express it into words but you’re different, and he loves it. He loves every single part of you.

On the other hand, Jimin’s body is being hungrily scanned by your lust-filled eyes. He has also changed, he’s not the same anymore. His body is definitely more toned than before. For sure, he’s a damn dilf.

As you both look at each other, it feels like you’re discovering the other for the first time. Almost as if you’re about to have sex for the first time. Well, your first time together was a little bit awkward but you made it through together.

“Lay in bed, baby,” he instructs you once you’ve both finished glancing at each other.

The urge he’s feeling is something that you sense, and you can understand it. If Moon hadn’t woken up, you would have had sex right after that mind-blowing thigh riding. You don’t even question his commands, laying on his bed. His body hovers over you, his eyes getting lost in yours.

It’s been a long time that you both haven’t found each other in this exact position.

“I missed you,” he admits with a deep voice, his thumb caressing your cheek.

At the feeling of his soft finger on your face, you close your eyes. The love you share with Jimin has always been so sweet. A sweet love.

“I missed you too, Jimin,” you answer before pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Without any warning, his other hand moves down to your core, his fingers brushing over your folds, snatching a moan out of you. His thumb rubs your clit, making you moan even more. He’s doing this to prepare you for his cock, knowing perfectly that he can’t just slip it into you, it’ll hurt you too much.

Once he feels you’re wet enough, he stops torturing your clit with his fingers. He places himself in between your legs, spreading them a bit more while he pumps his cock with one hand, getting ready for you. His face leans closer to yours, his lips finding yours for a passionate kiss as he buries his thick cock inside your soaked core, stretching your velvety walls.

For the past three years, you’ve had sex with other men. It was good, and with others, it was like going to heaven. But having Jimin’s cock pushing inside you is like going back home. Jimin is your first love, he was the first man with whom you had sexual activities. Then, for ten years, he was the only man you ever had sex with. So, in a way, your body considered him as your home.

Having sex today with him is like you’ve found your way back home.

His cute little hands find their way to your waist, caressing your soft skin. Both of you softly groan as he slowly pushes his thick cock inside you, but his lips swallow every sound. Your eyes roll back, loving the feeling of his length stretching you open.

Jimin takes a little step back to take a look at the wonderful woman beneath him. As he does so, he gives you the time to adjust to his thick size.

“Did I already tell you how pretty you are?” he asks before he leans closer, pushing his cock a bit deeper inside you. You shake your head because you want to hear him say it. “You’re so damn pretty, yn!”

His lips kiss yours once more, but honestly, all this making out feels amazing. It brings peace to your soul. A much needed peace.

“I’m going to fuck you nice and slow,” his deep voice whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

When he takes that deep voice, you just want to come because damn, it’s so sexy.

“Go for it, Jimin,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him.

Honestly, all you want is to be fucked rough and good as he used to do it before. You want to see if this older version of Jimin can still keep up with how he used to fuck you four years ago. He pulls back a bit to look at you in the eyes, a smirk rising on his face.

“After this, you won’t be able to walk.”

You desire nothing more than this. To be completely sore.

Jimin slowly pushes back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you. His eyes never leave your figure, watching you holding back every moan that threatens to leave your mouth.

“It’s so good to feel you again around me.”

Brutally, he pushes his cock fully inside you, and this time around, you can’t hold back a moan. A smirk appears on his face as he realizes that this time around, he managed to cause a little moan to leave your pretty lips.

For a little while, he doesn't move. He’s only hovering over you and watching you with delight. His eyes glance down on your body. Watching your pussy sucking his cock is something that he used to love to do.

Jimin groans as he watches himself buried deep inside you. “Your cunt takes me so well, honey.”

You close your eyes, completely enjoying having him fully inside you. Once he sees that you’re ready to take more, he pulls back brutally before slamming himself back into you. The bed under you squeaks, the headboard hitting the wall just behind you.

Your first love once again stops when he’s fully inside you, torturing you just to hear you begging him to fuck you. This is also something he deeply missed, so he’s for sure going to make you beg all night long.

“Jimin, move,” you start saying. “Please,” you beg.

As he loves to hear you begging for more, he just gives you what you want, pushing his cock back before slamming into you with both hands on your hips. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock quickly fills the room.

“Shit,” he gasps, thrusting into you with no mercy, “you feel so good.”

You’re completely drunk in the feeling of his cock filling you up, his hips hitting against yours with every thrust. This all causes sparks of pleasure to shoot throughout your body, your arousal dripping from your core and creaming his cock. Jimin smirks as he notices the sticky mess you’re causing.

Everything about the moment that is happening right now is something you both missed so dearly. These past few days of flirting with each other caused your feelings and the physical attraction to grow a lot. It wouldn’t surprise any of you if you keep doing this all night long.

His cock is buried deep inside you, causing you to grip the sheets as hard as possible to steady yourself from Jimin’s hard thrusts.

“You’re so fucking wet, honey,” he hisses before biting his lower lip.

His hands press harder into your skin when he feels your walls tighten around him. Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way his cock is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this, you can see it in his eyes.

Jimin bends down, pressing a sloppy kiss on your lips while his thrusts slow down. A desperate whine gushes from you, a sound that he swallows directly. His hands move up on your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them before his fingers start playing with your nipples.

“It feels wonderful,” you whisper as you’re completely lost in your euphoria.

Slowly, Jimin begins to thrust hard into you again, your walls sucking in his cock as he slams his hips into you with more force. His fingers keep playing with your very sensitive nipples, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes look at you, contorting with pleasure as it slowly builds within you.

His hands can feel the way your body quivers with each thrust. The way he’s torturing your body is only making you lose yourself further.

Small groans leave his lips when he feels the warmth of your walls wrapping tighter around him. “Your cunt is clenching so hard, honey.”

The sweat is dampening his body, sticking his black long hair to his face. With your hands, you push some strands of hair to be able to have a proper look at his handsome face. Jimin looks like a god right now.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper as you move your hips to meet his thrust.

The man over you smiles at your compliment. It always feels heartwarming to hear you compliment him.

“Thanks, honey,” he presses another sloppy kiss on your lips while you keep creaming his cock with your arousal.

As he keeps thrusting into you, he senses how close you are. He knows that the vision of you coming will make him come as well. But before that happens, he needs to know where you want him to come.

“Where do you want me to come?” he asks, panting hard.

“On my belly,” you say as you touch your lower stomach.

For the moment, it’s better to not have him coming inside you. There’s absolutely no way you’ll get pregnant right now. You’re already scared of what is going on right now, and it’s better to avoid adding a second child to the mix. It’s preferable to enjoy your reunion.

His fingers pinch your nipples harder, making the wave of pleasure grow bigger inside you.

“I’m gonna come,” you exclaim with despair.

Jimin’s cock twitches inside of you at your words, a low groan rumbling in his throat. One of his hands slowly snails down on your body, passing your stomach, and landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers start to rub your sensitive spot.

The simple feeling of his cold fingers against your clit is what you need to be completely hit by your orgasm, making you come hard around him. Your arousal completely covers his cock while your walls are squeezing him on repeat.

While you’re completely lost in your euphoria, he speeds up the pace of his hips slamming into you to chase his own high.

The coil in his lower stomach tightens inside of him, and it completely clouds his thoughts. The only thing he sees is the image of you coming under him. Breathy whines escape his pretty lips as he looks down at the mess you made on his cock. His eyes are completely hypnotized by your body.

With despair, he pushes his cock out of you with his left hand. Instantly, hot spurts of cum are being projected over your stomach. Breathy moans escaping both your lips, a smile appearing on your face as you feel his sperm touching your skin.

Jimin collapses next to you, both of your bodies covered in sweat after this intense sex session. Your heavy breathing is now the only thing that can be heard in his bedroom, but you quickly stand up to grab a towel to clean yourself before his cum gets dry on your stomach.

Once cleaned, you hand him the towel so he can clean himself. “Well, this was something,” he says with a bright smile on his face while rubbing his cock with the towel.

“It definitely was,” you answer as you grab your bra and panties to put them back on. “Although you’re older, you’re still very good at it.”

“For the past three years, I’ve been taking care of other gardens,” you frown, not understanding what this guy is saying.

“You’re comparing a pussy with a garden?” you ask with obvious confusion and disbelief.

Jimin starts laughing at your reaction. He has an inside joke with his friends about gardening. Instead of saying that they are having sex, they’ll say that they are going to do some gardening. It all started when they were drunk and started comparing sex with gardening.

They said that it’s the exact same thing. For gardening, you take care of a garden, and for fucking, you take care of a pretty pussy. It’s weird, but it’s better to not raise any questions.

“Eeeh, you have a pretty little garden, honey,” he says while coming next to you to hold you in his arms.

“You’re weird,” you say before pressing a gentle kiss on his plump lips.

“And you love my weirdness,” you nod.

Jimin is your weirdo.

“Since Moon is with your parents, we could perhaps spend the night together and maybe go to a restaurant?” he suggests.

You nod once more before resting your head on his chest. It feels wonderful to be around him again. It makes you feel at home, and it’s such a powerful feeling. Even though you’re absolutely scared of what the future might hold, you feel a sense of completeness right now. It almost feels like everything is falling into place now.

You can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with your first love.

#bts #bts imagine #bts fanfic #park jimin #jimin #jimin imagine #jimin fanfic #bts fluff #jimin fluff #bts smut #jimin smut #bts x reader #jimin x reader #sweet love #spideyjimin

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luveline · 1 month ago

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hiii, could we please get bombshell!reader x spencer finding out they’re pregnant with baby no. 2 xxx

Hi thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

The second time, it catches you completely off guard. You still remember the afternoon you’d spent at Spencer’s apartment before you realised you were pregnant with Amy, your first, that nagging feeling of otherness that plagued you for days, and finally got too much to ignore. How Spencer had offered his hand, had sat you in the chair next to him despite it being a tight squeeze. You’d been more scared than you let on, quite hopeful, but you knew in a way before you took the test that it was already happening.

You figure you have a pretty good idea of what being pregnant feels like, and when your period doesn’t come, you don’t pay it any mind. They’ve been spotty since Amy, on and off and on again. Spencer stopped trying to log it for you a long ago.

“Mama?”

You smile. It’s a rare day when Amy calls you ‘mama’: she didn’t spend long in the mama-dada region of time, moving on quickly to ‘mommy’.

“What’s up, love bug?” you whisper.

Amy —Amanda, Spencer’s idea, meaning ‘worth of love’— tilts her head back. Spencer swears she’s all you, but you can see both of you in her face, threads of your families. “Daddy’s sleeping?” she asks, her lips screwed into his pout, her eyebrows pulled into your worried pinching.

“He got home late last night, remember? He’s just tired.”

She frowns at his face turned into your thigh. “Wake up?”

“Let’s let him sleep, okay? Sleep is important, it keeps us healthy.”

“You’ll play?”

“I can’t, he’s sleeping in my lap.”

“Push.”

“We don’t push.”

Amy, perplexed by this, clambers onto the couch despite her father’s entire body being in the way, and Spencer, so used to this mistreatment, doesn’t so much as stir. Amy slides into the space between his chest and the back of the couch and leans down to grin at his lax face.

“Gonna give daddy a kiss?” you suggest in a murmur.

Amy gathers the curls from his face and kisses his forehead, smack dab in the middle.

Spencer’s breath starts to quicken. Amy senses a change and begins patting the back of his neck. “Shhh,” she says, uncoordinated fingers trying hard to be gentle as she pets her father. “Shush, daddy. Sleep.”

Spencer spends hours sleeping in your lap, until eventually Amy tramples him one too many times and his stomach growls its protest. He wakes, turning back, his hair crushed to your thigh, and when he sees you he gives you the same lovely smile as always.

His teeth peek from behind his lips. “That’s a pretty sight to wake up to,” he says.

It’s this sleepy afternoon together that means later, when you’re sitting on the closed toilet with a pregnancy test taken from four parts curiosity and one part responsibility, you’re unafraid of the result. You think of Amy’s small hands stroking Spencer’s hair from his face, her head under your nose as you’d cuddled, and you think of Spencer’s dozy smile and his months spent pouring over baby name books, and you know it’s all gonna be fine.

“You alright?” Spencer asks when you make it to bed some short minutes later. His nap has left him wide awake.

You climb into bed and turn out your lamp, laying down, curling in, a secret smile playing on your lips as he drags the blankets to your neck. “I’m good.”

“What’s making you smile?” he asks.

You gesture for him to lay down with you in the middle dark. Yellow from Amy’s hallway night light bleeds under the door, illuminating the hints of his features. You don’t need it to know what he looks like, where his cheek is in the dark as you lift your hand. “Love you,” you say.

He pulls you in for a gentle kiss. “Love you,” he says into your lips, hand slipping to the nape of your neck. He squeezes it, groaning at the very back of his throat as he adds, “Missed you.”

“I missed you too. Sleep well, sweetheart.”

He wraps an arm around you and cradles you against him. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, angel.” His nose presses to your temple. His lips brush your eyebrow.

You linger in the quiet for a while. Spencer nearly falls asleep.

“Spencer?” you ask.

“Mm?” He doesn’t sound tired at all, but he’d been content to lie with you in the quiet.

“Just, by the way. Just so you know,” —you rub your face into his chest, breathing in his smell— “I’m pregnant again.”

Another lapse of silence. Then Spencer springs up and turns on his bedside lamp to your squinting ire, eyes alight with shock. “You’re what?”

“Pregnant.” You turn your face into the pillow to hide from the unwelcome light. “With a baby,” you say, your voice mildly muffled, “maybe two or so months.”

Spencer slips a hand under your cheek and turns you back around. He holds your face in both palms, a rueful sort of acceptance about him as he leans down for a good look at you, though underneath it you can see the same thrumming contentedness you’d felt seeing the double pink lines. “And you’re telling me now?”

“Didn’t you always say you expected to be the last to know?” you tease. “I did a test a few minutes ago. Clear Blue. Very accurate, or so you’ve said.”

Spencer laughs and presses his face sharply into your own. Your nose throbs after a while, but you say nothing. You smile when he sniffles, raking your hand through his mousy brown hair.

“I didn’t have an inkling of a suspicion,” you confess in a whisper.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, laughing under your breath as his hand creeps down to your stomach. “It’s the same as it was yesterday, I promise.”

“Well, it’s not.” Spencer’s face falls into the nook of your shoulder, hand slipping from your stomach to behind you, where he holds you like you’re at risk of escaping him. You have no such inclination.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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dilatorywriting · 6 months ago

Text

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: Teaching a Siren to read is perhaps the best or worst idea that you've ever had. If only you were half as capable of reading between the lines.

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

‘U-G-L-Y’

“Wow,” you drawled. “What a wonderful use of your new talents.”

The fish you were cooking landed upside down on the hot stone with a crackling sizzle of skin that you could feel as a jumping prickle of heat all along your arm. You poked at your impromptu stovetop with your impromptu stick-spatula and prepared your impromptu leaf-plates. A true culinary connoisseur, you were. When you were rescued, you were going to argue to Riddle that you deserved a promotion to the kitchens. Though, apparently not everyone appreciated your talents.

‘UGLY’ the Siren poked again, jabbing his talon into the sand.

“Then bring me prettier fish,” you returned, pointed. “It’s not that hard.”

His sharp, black claws came up to point at you next alongside his wonderful, two-syllable insult. Then back to you again, with four fingers this time. Both hands going for it. There was a tight, irritated expression on his face that you refused to call a pout because firstly, surely this vicious king of the seas could never pull something so childish. And secondly, because in these past few days you’d developed a terrible habit of just chattering each and every one of your thoughts aloud. And if you called him bratty, or dared imply such pouting was coming from his regal visage, you were just setting yourself up to get drenched by his flailing tail all over again.

“You can’t hurt my feelings,” you said, bland. “Ugly is the nicest thing you’ve ever called me.”

He huffed and smacked his fins against the sand. The trailing, dark tips cracked against your leg and you kicked him right back. It didn’t actually hurt, no more than a pinch to the side, but you’d spent enough time with this asshole now that not fighting back like a toddler pitching a tantrum wasn’t an option anymore.

Just over two weeks, now. Fifteen days and counting.

Those first few days had been spent in a nervous, prey-like panic, of course. Watching him circle the bay with his shredded fins, crying at the top of his lungs until your goosebumps had goosebumps. And then you’d helped untangle him from the mess you’d made, delicately working salt-brined twine away from weeping wounds. Sure, there’d been that whole hoopla of him pinning you in the sand after your act of Great Chivalry and promptly threatening to rip your throat out with his teeth, but you’d moved past that. The offering of home-cooked meals had softened his scaly hide, and then the even greater move of handing him your species’ alphabet like some great, guarded secret of old had sealed the deal. Cheers all around. It’d only taken you nearly being eaten, disemboweled, and drowned, but you’d made peace with your roommate. What a success story.

And now instead of trying to murder you, he just called you U-G-L-Y.

So, you know, baby steps.

The thin, pointed end of his tail whipped up from where you’d kicked him to twine around your ankle and give a sharp tug that had you sprawling face first into the sand with an oomph. Your great tumble sent all those pretty letters of his scattering in the breeze, and you spat out a mouthful of grit.

“Here’s a new one for you,” you chirped, digging your fingers into the muck. F-U-C-K—Y-O-U.

The Siren yowled, which you’d come to recognize far too well as a prickle along your nape and that forever echoing tug, tug, tug somewhere in your head that could never return the call with its corresponding answer. His tail flailed out again to smack at your hands. It was thick, and scaly, and all smooth, powerful muscle. The fact that he hadn’t crushed your poor fingers into a sad, bony paste by now beneath its wrath was a miracle. If you were a more optimistic person, you’d say he was being extra gentle with you on purpose. But even you weren’t delusional enough to think he liked you that much.

“Okay, okay,” you grouched, spitting out another mouthful of pebbles. “Fine. Just not around the food. Unless you want to have to go hunting for dinner all over again.”

The Siren huffed, rolling his eyes like it was a professional sport, and settled himself prettily back against the butt of his tail like he’d never even tried to beat you to death with his fins at all.

You sighed and pulled yourself back out of the sand, scrubbing it from your salt-sticky skin as best as you were able. You returned to poking at your fish. They weren’t too terribly singed, despite your distraction. And the Siren seemed to like the edges extra crispy either way, so it wasn’t any kind of loss. You were in the middle of balancing your impromptu stick-spatula against another impromptu stick-spoon to try and flip the fish without destroying it entirely when you felt a gentle poke, poke, poke against your arm.

You looked back and the Siren stared down at you, lips canted in a sharp smirk that was all pride.

U-G-L-Y—A-N-D—S-T-U-P-I-D, the sand said.

He’d been struggling with applying the whole -pid noise to the proper lettering, because of how similar it was to -ped. And the spelling had been tripping him up (with much obvious frustration) for the last day or so.

“Well done,” you sighed, not even too terribly upset that it had taken you months in Riddle’s impromptu classrooms to learn what he was picking up over the course of a few, harried sessions delivered with broken bits of sharp sticks and an ever changing canvas. “Try this.”

You scribbled another message in the sand. An insult, naturally, because he seemed to like those. You sounded out the letters as you hopped the tip of your finger over them one-by-one, and the Siren stared down at the inscription with the sort of intense focus meant for ancient tomes or sacred texts. You watched his lips move silently as he sounded it out alongside your mini-lesson, and then he was reaching forward to trace over the letters with the curved tip of a claw—knuckles bumping yours for a moment before shooing your hand away.

You returned to your dinner—finishing up the poor, murdered fish as best as you could and doling it out as usual. You reached out to hand pretty boy his leaf-plate, which he took like a lord accepting a meal from a lowly servant. All upturned noses and pointed disinterest. He set it beside him and nibbled on the offering as he continued to study the new task you’d given him—grand, purple fins splayed out at his sides to brush against your hip like a habit. And this was your life now, apparently. Sitting and frying lazy, shallow water fish over a heated stone while your Siren student studied curse words in the sand. If you managed to survive this, no one would ever believe you.

The wrecked ship called to you like, well, did you even have to say it.

(It felt like a low hanging pun at this point. You’d never be able to use the expression again for as long as you lived without thinking of narrowed, purple eyes nearly rolling up into the back of a too pretty head because you were apparently that annoying.)

Every day when you ventured towards the western side of the islet to feed your teeny, round octopus friend, you couldn’t help but sit and stare at the shattered hull. It’s not like it was in any sort of shape to actually get you off your little, sandy prison, but it was… There was something about it that was familiar enough to scratch an itch in your brain, but just alien enough that figuring out what was itching was outright impossible.

Silver songbirds.

‘Not safe,’ the Siren had demanded, with an almost frantic look to him. Not safe.

Every time you tried to venture closer to get a better look, it was like he could feel it. And he’d be pacing the shoreline like a blood-frenzied shark—rattling off muted, angry complaints the whole time that popped against your skin like soda fizz. So, lesson learned. Keep away.

It was a particularly sweltering afternoon today. Not a cloud in the bright, blue sky and nary a breeze to be seen. Sweat was beading unpleasantly along your brow and all down your back, and you hated it. At least on the Rose Queen there had been shade. And the lower decks of the ship submerged in the waves had always felt at least a little chilled. You could practically feel the damp, cool wood against your cheek. The smell of salt and pine oils in your nose. But here, on this stupid not-island with its barren trees and nothings, you just had to suffer in silence. The memories of your ship had you thinking of the washed up Songbird all over again, and you were in the middle of a heated, internal debate over making a swim for it again when something cold rained down over your face in small, scattered droplets.

You blinked back into focus to see Mister Merman at your ankles. You’d been sitting with your heels in the water, but no deeper. Because the shallows were still his territory, and while he hadn’t tried to hold you under in a while now, it was hard to forget something like that so easily. You didn’t really want to chance it if a foul mood struck him, no matter what sort of fragile truce seemed to exist between the pair of you lately.

Last you’d looked he’d been sunning himself on one of the wide, flat rocks—as he was wont to do. Lavender-tipped hair splayed out along his cheeks in a pool of soft gold and fins spread at his hips like the finest, plum silks. How he never seemed to burn with that delicate, ivory skin of his you had no idea. Maybe it was a Magical, Mystical, Merman perk yet undocumented. Or maybe he was just Like That. But he’d been snoozing away on his favorite boulder, and now he had rolled in with the tide to lounge by your toes. His fingers were spread, still dripping with sea water from where he’d flicked you in the face. You frowned at him—partly curious, but also pissilly blinking salt out of your eyes that stung, because come on dude.

He flicked more water your way and said something that you couldn’t manage to catch the shape of. When you didn’t respond with anything other than a pointed scrub of the water dripping down your cheeks, he reached out to wrap a clawed hand around your ankle and give a gentle tug.

“What?” you frowned, confused, and he tugged again.

He canted his head towards you, and then out to the cove behind him. He slipped back with the soft, frothy roll of the waves—just a foot or two—and clearly meant to pull you with him. You slid against the sandbar with a yelp and dug your heels into the muck to keep from getting yanked all the way in.

“No way,” you snipped, kicking a mess of water into his face. He didn’t even blink, just frowned down at you with a twisty sort of petulance. “I thought we were over this. If you drown me you won’t get any more cooked food, y’know. And I, in turn, would very much like to not be drowned. Win, win.”

That frown of his went stiff, and his lips twitched down at the corners. His amethyst eyes darted away and for a moment you swore that those gemstone irises flashed with something almost like guilt. He rolled forward with the next curl of surf and pressed a claw into the damp, dark sand at your hip. He scratched out a careful message, stubbornly refusing to meet your gaze all the while.

Won’t, it said.

“Forgive me for not believing that,” you returned, dry. “You’re oh-for-two now, I think. And, you know, fool me twice, and all that.” Though maybe the first one didn’t really count, seeing how you were both tangled together and sinking to the bottom in a mutual sort of destruction. But whatever. You were keeping it.

The Siren’s brow pinched in the middle and he reached forward to dig his claws in again.

Accident.

Your own brows jumped nearly to your hairline. You were just about to politely point out that dragging someone to the bottom of the ocean until they were bubbling from the nose and flailing wasn’t really an accident,but then you remembered the startled look on his face. The way he hadn’t stopped you from clawing your way back to the surface and how he’d carefully helped tow you back towards the shore after. And… maybe he hadn’t really meant it. It had to be strange, probably. Being able to thrive so easily below the waves and then be faced with someone who would die if they were left facedown in a puddle.

“…Fine,” you huffed, and his eyes jumped back up to yours with all cat-in-the-cream smugness. “But just because I’m about to drop from heatstroke. Not because you asked.”

The Siren rolled his eyes at you and returned to dragging you by your ankles into the shallows.

The bay really was very lovely. It was crystalline clear and the sort of brilliant blue that you’d never even known existed until you’d left the land for a life on the open ocean. The sand below your feet was soft and white, with barely any pebbles or broken bits of shell to dig into your toes. You watched a few crabs scurry out of the way as you were led deeper and deeper, but most of the cove’s occupants were spoiled and slow. Unbothered by this weird, fleshy, bipedal creature stepping past because they’d never known anything else. Once you hit waist-deep, the Siren let go of you to sink more fully into the water. He swam around you in a languid, looping circle—plum fins cresting the surface to flick water against your arms and scales shining like polished glass in the sunlight. It was still far too shallow for him to move around in earnest with how massive that tail of his was, and how wide and trailing his great, beta-like fins were, but he was still elegant. Still fast and flexible as he swam rings around you like an orbit.

“Show off,” you scoffed, but couldn’t quite bite back the grin twitching at your lips.

Because creature from the deep trying to devour your crew or not, Sirens really were so impressive, weren’t they? Straight out of a storybook, and deserving of every song and tale attributed to them.

You reached out before you could help yourself to run your fingers along his tail. The scales were smooth, and sleek, and cool against your palm. The wispy ends of his fins caught along your fingers, but other than a bit of a tangle, you almost managed to run your hand along the whole of it. And what was it? Eight feet? Ten? Bigger than you at least, that was for sure. It wasn’t like anything you’d ever felt. No fish, or whale hide, or shark. Something entirely of its own.

You realized on the next loop when your fingers danced over a patch of still healing scales that you’d felt already that he had most definitely realized your err in personal space, and was letting you poke about on purpose. You glanced up, embarrassed and warm faced, to see the tail end of a smirk quirking out from the water’s surface. Preening bastard.

You turned up your nose and waded deeper. There was a ripple in the water around you, like a chuckle, and he returned to his looping circles. Occasionally his tail would brush up against you to get you to jump, but otherwise he kept his hands to himself and—as promised—did not attempt to wrestle you down to the sandy floor and your subsequent watery grave.

Once you’d made it up to your chest, the Siren was able to start his dance in earnest. He darted away to make a wide arc around the edge of the cove—sunshine catching on his scales like a glare on the water. He shot from one end to the other, so fast it was nearly dizzying to try and keep up with. And then he was back to circling your ankles all over again—tangling your legs in his fins and curling his talons against your calves to try and drag you deeper.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, paddling after him until you were well and truly above your head. The bay wasn’t very deep, but there were a few areas that dipped down to at least fifteen feet. So soon enough you were bobbing like a top in the gentle surf as he looped around your idly kicking feet—brushing up along your ankles and tugging at the frayed edge of your shirt with his claws when he passed by.

When he next rose above the surface, you’d already taken in a big mouthful of water in preparation, and shot it right into his face. The Siren’s whole expression shriveled up like a hundred-year-old prune and you laughed so hard he had to curl his tail around your waist to keep you from dipping under the waves and choking yourself. You let him drag you around and only grabbed at his fins a little. He would dive below your feet and you’d sink after him. Not nearly as agile or adept, but competent enough to follow his little game of tag without losing completely within the first few seconds. It was—it was nice. Genuinely. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d swam for the fun of it. Way back when you’d first joined up with Riddle’s crew, maybe. It’d been a hot day, just like this one, and you’d been anchored in a safe, shallow inlet off the coast of an archipelago. Deuce and Ace had jumped in first, already brawling, and you’d dove in soon after. It’d been a mess, and Riddle had nearly hung the three of you up by your toes for it. But it’d been fun. Familial. Warm. Something you’d never forget. And while this moment didn’t feel entirely like that one had, there was something similar about it. Sure, you weren’t trying to give the Siren a bloody nose and there were no rock wars, but it was… well, it was nice.

By the end of it, he was swimming lazy, looping shapes around the cove, and you were being dragged alongside him like a raft—kept afloat by the curling press of his tail and relaxing in the afternoon sunshine with the cool ripples of the ocean water to keep you both comfortable in the heat.

“Do you do this a lot?” you asked, as you relaxed in the gentle lull of the surf. “With your pod, I mean.”

The Siren stiffened beneath you, but after a moment he nodded. Slow and rigid. Which—

Oh. Right.

“…sorry,” you mumbled, gaze darting away.

Because he was missing his family just as much as you were missing yours, wasn’t he?

All that frantic pacing at the start of your mutual stranding had just seemed to… fade away as the days passed. He would still circle the entrance of the cove some mornings, singing towards the skies and tilting his head—fins pricked as he searched for an answer. You’d feel it in your nerves, see the gulls overhead dipping in a trance and watch the crabs crawl up onto the sand like they were being dragged out by their little claws. But most of the time now he just… didn’t. He spent his days mumbling over the letters you showed him, or carefully preening over his healing fins and resting in the sun. Catching fish for you to prepare and roast, and taking his meals at your side as you both snipped at each other with sandy curse words. It was pleasant, this routine you’d fallen into together. But all the same, he never really stopped checking the ocean waters. And you could see a spark in his eyes, an itch. The same one that lit yours, no doubt, every time you caught yourself squinting for the outline of ships on the horizon.

The difference between the two of you, of course, was that in a few more days his scales would be healed enough to face the dangers of the open water alone. Life as a rogue mer was notoriously perilous. The lone Sirens were those that poachers were willing to risk battle with for a trophy. They were the ones caught in fishing nets, and found mauled by rival pods. But your Siren was smart. He was big, and strong, and impressive. He’d find a way to survive it, no doubt. One morning you’d wake up and he’d have darted off into the deep to search for his family. To go home. And you…

You would still be trapped here.

Alone.

Forever.

Rotting under the sun with no one to take you swimming in the afternoons. Or bring you clawed up fish to cook for dinner. Or to use your writing lessons just to insult you with scribbled words in the muck.

Which—that was what you’d wanted, wasn’t it? At the start of all of this.

And it was only fair, in the end. He was the better of the two of you, after all. Born and bred to thrive in the depths of the sea that would swallow you whole without a thought. And if either of you was going to survive, to find your home again, it was always going to be him. Maybe you’d be a story, like he would have been for you. The strange human with no ears, just like the rest of the pirates whispered about. Who taught him that fire could make fish extra tasty and that leaves could make perfectly serviceable plates if you tried hard enough.

You sighed, and bubbles of salt water frothed along your mouth.

The Siren raised his head from his own lazy sprawl to arch a brow at you in question, and you did the very mature thing of spitting water in his face all over again.

You ended up being dragged through the cove in a flurry of spitting, Siren rage. Laughing and laughing until he huffed and hauled you back to shore to keep you from swallowing any more seawater like the idiot that you were. And it was fine, really it was. He wasn’t so bad, not really. And if he was able to reunite with his pod once more after all those days of hollow wailing and pacing, pacing, pacing that had made something deep in your soul itch like a freshly scabbed wound that you just couldn’t stop picking, well, that wouldn’t be such a bad ending after all.

The next afternoon while you were out on your daily Octopus Wellness Check, you came across a piece of pale, purple sea glass mixed into the rocky shore. It was smooth to the touch and frosted over by the endless tumble of the tide. You held it up to the light and it sparkled just like the Siren’s scales.

“What do you think?” you asked the octopus as it grabbed shredded bits of fish with its chubby, little tentacles. “Do you want it? Or should I give it to—”

You blinked, startled, and realized all at once that you’d never learned the Siren’s name. Or given him yours. You’d just sort of been calling each other a variety of derogatory pseudonyms and hoping for the best. Which, huh. You hadn’t even realized you’d wanted to know his name. It wasn’t yours to take, of course. Let alone from someone who would no doubt be leaving so soon. But it was a thought.

“You always give the best advice, you know,” you told the teeny creature, and it hid from you like you were a great, looming monster of old. “Whether you meant to or not. Thanks for that.”

So on the way back to your cove, you picked through some tufts of beachgrass to find the longest, driest spikes. You began winding them together as you walked, and settled down in your favorite little corner of the inlet to continue your weaving. The Siren, naturally—being as nosy as he was—was immediately hovering over you like a child watching someone hold a bag of sweets just out of reach. You clutched your little project to your chest like a secret, and it had him puffing up in irritation and smacking his fins against your sides like your refusal to share whatever had caught your attention was a crime beyond comparison. He arched up as tall as he could to try and peer over your shoulder, and, in failing at that, just outright tried to snatch the thing from your hands.

“I won’t give it to you if you keep being a pest,” you warned, and immediately he was slipping back to rest on his stomach in the damp sand with a starbright curiosity in his eyes, chin pillowed atop his interlaced fingers and gaze following the movements of your hands like a cat tracking a mouse in its hole. Clearly the promise of it being a treat for him was mollification enough to keep him from hovering.

Once you’d braided a sturdy enough chain, you carefully twined it around the sea glass in a little, crisscrossing cage of fibers. Just knotted enough to keep the ocean-worn trinket safe and in place without hiding the shine of it. With that, you held up your trophy with a dramatic wave, and the Siren was popping up all over again. His amethyst glare tracked the swinging pendant with startling focus and a surprisingly wide-eyed spark of confusion.

“Here,” you said, reaching out to drop the makeshift necklace into his lap. He caught it in his claws, eyes still far too round with shock. “It made me think of your scales. I thought you might like it.”

He was staring down at the gift in utter silence. And not the normal sort of quiet either—where your broken eardrums simply refused to pick up on all his petulant grousing against your person. This was actual silence. His lips were parted like they were caught on a breath, but he wasn’t saying anything. Not even a complaint about how plain and ugly it was. He curled his claws daintily around the woven chain, as if he was afraid of tearing right through it with an accidental prick, and then held the sparkling bauble aloft like he was utterly entranced by the soft gleam of it.

After a long, long moment of that near eerie silence and a pool of dread filling your belly that screamed you’d clearly fucked up in some way (overstepped some weird, Siren tradition. Accidentally insulted his father. Handed him a bad luck omen on a string. Something), the Siren was twisting around to show you the back of his neck. He held up the woven chain so it draped along his shoulder blades, and he pointedly shook the ends at you.

When you just gaped back in shock, he turned to sneer over his shoulder at you and jabbed a claw at his throat, then the necklace, then you, then his throat again. Which, oh. Oh! That—that you could do.

So you reached out to pluck the ends of the grass-woven thread from his talons and he immediately shifted around again to make himself comfortable. Curling his tail firmly against the sand with his plum-lined fins spread out in all their glory like a spill of purple ink along the shoreline. He set his shoulders square and firm, and looked straight ahead with that same, queer sort of focus to him as before.

You tied the ends of the necklace in a bow against his nape, making sure it was securely fastened in place and not snagging any of the softer, shorter hairs at the back of his neck. Once it’d been fussed with to his liking, he turned back around and stared you down until you could feel goosebumps prickling up all along your spine. You wanted to meekly tell him that it was just sea glass. Just a little trinket you’d found in the sand that you’d thought was pretty enough that he might like to have it. But the words died on your tongue. They felt wrong somehow. And you’d put your foot in your mouth plenty of times throughout your life, but this definitely felt like it would have been the biggest boot of all.

“…You like it?” you tried instead, because that sentiment at least seemed less like something that was ready to clog up your throat.

The Siren nodded, firm, his eyes still drilling into yours with that unnerving level of focus.

You coughed into your fist and awkwardly attempted to shift away to give yourself a bit of room, and—Huh. When had his tail come up to wrap around your leg? That made running away a bit inconvenient. You’d just have to try and wriggle your way out and hope he would take mercy on your far inferior musculature, and—

There was a poke at your hip. Tap, tap, tap. One, two, three. And you glanced back up at him with a pinched frown, confused.

The Siren pointed to a scrawl in the sand. Tap, tap, tap.

Acceptable.

You gawked, and then swallowed a laugh so fast it nearly choked you. Because he was still himself, wasn’t he? No matter what. Sassy, asshole fish. Gods, you were going to miss him.

You wiped at the bubbling, giggling tears prickling at the corner of your eyes and reached out to pat at his tail in good humor.

“I hope you find your happy ending,” you beamed, and meant it.

The Siren just looked at you with one of his familiar, lemon-sour puckers. He pointedly reached up to flick at the necklace around his throat, like that had anything to do with him finding his family again at all. Like it wasn’t just some silly trinket you’d gifted him in hopes that maybe one day he could look back fondly on the little human that he’d found himself stranded with. To not just forget you outright. To make your fleeting presence in his life something tangible, rather than just a mess of already fading scars and memories that would too easily be swept away in the depths of the sea.

“At least it’s acceptable,” you said finally around your giggling, and he huffed at you in a way that almost looked fond. You stood from the sand and brushed the mess of grit and salt off your pant legs. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner and I’ll teach you some nicer words tonight. So you can give me a real compliment next time.”

There was spray of water all along your back from where he’d no doubt dove back into the shallows behind you and walloped you with his fins to the best of his ability. And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be bothered by it at all.

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