#Her birth+found family is too powerful | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emmaofnormandy · 4 months ago

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Imagine Aegon is the father of your children… to whom you are the greatest defender. (Part II)

Warnings: this time we have drama, angst, but fluffy like usual. Maybe some smut. Long post.

@dracaryxzs tagging you once more, hope you like it!

***

• The Last Feast.

You are present at your father’s last dinner. Despite detesting the circumstances, you put an effort at your husband’s request, as much as either of you are uncomfortable with this growing awkwardness—thanks to your father’s preference over Rhaenyra and your mother’s likewise neglect.

Not to mention the Strong bastards who tease your lover endlessly—as well as your younger brother Aemond. You recollect how, when you were ten and two summers, you hit Jacaerys in his face and kicked Lucerys’ belly after their bullying over your family.

“You have no idea whom you are messing with, boys. I may be kind, I may be sweet, but I am as dragon as either of you are. If yet one may say so… considering there’s nothing Valyrian on you.”

Words—and deeds—that earned Aemond’s respect and Aegon’s admiration. Today you wish you had better control of your temper, perhaps being more diplomatic, but you’d still stand up for Aegon nonetheless.

“You look thoughtful today”, you hear Aegon telling you. “I think it’s too early for you to join this bloody dinner. You have been just churched, Y/N.”

You smile, letting memories of a distant past fade when Aegon comes at you, holding you from behind as your ladies have just finished dressing you and brushing your long silver locks.

Today you opt to wear your two-sided braided hair and a long, silk green gown which may reinforce your curves. His hands are precisely there as his eyes stare at your reflection in the mirror of your privy quarters.

About a month and half ago, you gave birth to your fifth child—and you’re already the mother of Aegon, Alysanne, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera—whom you named Baelor after your grandsire. To the surprise of many, you are not only as fertile as your sisters and mother, but just as strong.

Even though ladies are strongly recommended to avoid events after this period of churching—where they go through the process of getting cleansed carnally and spiritually under the Septs of the Seven—you care very little about such rules, specially when your sire father is about to depart this world—something that gives you mixed feelings.

“I am as good as before”, you turn at him with a smile on your lips. “I may look tired but that is because I had to wake early to feed Baelor.”

Aegon chuckles lightly.

“…all the whilst our dearest Jaehaera was found sneaking under our blanket.”

You laugh heartily.

“She seems to take after you, I’m afraid. Are you ready to put some reins in her, Aegon?”

To which your husband scoffs.

“Please. I’m here to protect and spoil my princesses. Yourself included, dear”, and saying so, he presses a kiss on your cheek. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

You spot a glint of mischief behind his eyes; it already makes your intimate parts ache for him. You gently put two fingers over his lips and bite yours when he takes to his mouth, sucking each without parting gazes.

“Mm. Someone’s not been churched enough, I see.”, Aegon teases you, now going to press you against the wall.

“My darling, you best not ruin me for the feast. We are awaited”, you try your best not to give him, but what power do you have when he, taller than you, towers over you and starts to lift the skirt of your gowns…

“Oh there you are!”, you and Aegon almost jump out the moment you hear Helaena’s voice. “Alysanne and I were looking for you!”

Suddenly the seven year old princess with short curly hair and eyes that resemble her parents shows up dressing a gown that is very similar to her aunt’s.

“Papa! Mama! Aunt Laena did my dress, look! I’ve been looking for you in order to show you it!”, she steps up proudly under Helaena’s fond gaze and clapping hands.

You are quickly straightening yourself when Aegon promptly goes to one knee to match his daughter’s height and speak as if nothing was going on before their… sudden arrival.

“You look gorgeous as ever, Alys! Beautiful like your mama!”, he beams at her, before lifting his daughter and holding her tight.

“Weeee!”, Alysanne giggles. “You can still carry me! Look, aunt Laena! Look how strong my papa is!”

Helaena is all smiles at the scene. You join her side, adding a teasing comment:

“It appears your father is still strong, uh? Here I was thinking otherwise.”

Aegon rolls eyes at you, but Alysanne points out her tongue in turn.

“There is none as strong as my papa!”

“That’s my girl!”, he kisses her cheek, spinning her around a little more before downing her at last. “Now, you best go to see your grandsire. Where is Egg? And your twins?”

“Egg has joined Maekar”, she tells him in reference to Helaena and Aemond’s oldest son. “They are insufferable.”

Helaena chuckles lightly.

“Best mates, as they should.”

“As for me… at least I have Rhae to be friends with”, and that being said the princess runs after her cousin, Maekar’s own twin, both born in the same year as Alysanne’s.

“You should be more careful, leaving the door unlocked”, says Helaena, amused.

And she turns before either of you could form a proper answer. You sigh and as you link your arm with Aegon’s, you say:

“She is not wrong, you know.”

“Where can I be faulted if these kids are growing too fast these days”, grumbles Aegon.

You poke his side playfully.

“The joke’s on you for being careless and leaving the door open.”

Aegon chuckles, pressing another kiss on your cheeks before going to the king’s privy quarters where a family reunion is expected.

You are sitting opposite Aemond and Helaena, next to your husband on the left side of the table. You are making sure your children are behaving well at the same time instructing your maids what to do in case they get…bored.

Whilst you do so, Aegon avoids Rhaenyra’s gaze, who sits on the opposite right of the table, with her own offspring. Trying to sweep away the taste of bad blood, he rather focuses in his own children.

The sight of his growing family brings a relief to his wounded pride. For years, longing for something his father and mother lacked in providing, seems to have been filled with your love and these of his children.

When seeing how Egg is looking for him and, once finding his gaze, smiles in search of approval, Aegon forgets his haunted memoirs and gives his boy and heir a positive sign with his thumb up.

It’s how happy Egg is that makes Aegon believe that he’s overcome his broken heart. By how proud his son looks just after being acknowledged by Aegon makes him think that… had only his father done that for years, one small gesture such as this, well… wouldn’t things be different?

Looking now at his daughter, Princess Alysanne. She’s every inch his own and Aegon takes pride in his eldest girl. She is sweet tempered and talkative—oh doesn’t she like to talk? Aegon observes how she and her cousin, Princess Rhaella, engage in some serious conversation which the prince supposes to be about dragons.

He does approve how they are bonding. And when his gaze meets Aemond’s, the eldest of the two realizes this is a better out coming than both of them expected—considering their upbringing. Aemond, of his part, gives a small smirk, considering he is proud too of his children.

And then… there are the twins, of course, and the newly born son who’s not present. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys are not gloomy nor moody, simply the mirror of Aegon’s domestic joy.

This picture of the family he never had that is now his new reality makes him at peace with his parents… even if at times, such as now, he is remembered of everything he didn’t have.

“I would like to make a toast”, says King Viserys, and his voice drags Aegon out of his particular bliss. “My family reunited here. Everyone together as it should, the perfect reflection of how peaceful our realm is.”

All eyes are set on the dying king. The evidence is clear and you cannot help yourself wondering… how all would’ve been different had he acknowledged Aegon’s inheritance. When casting a quick look at your sister Rhaenyra, you realize that she’s never wanted the high prize.

“Mama”, your daughter’s hand pushing your sleeve draws you out of your thoughts.

“What is it, sweetling?”

“Will the dragons die?”

You furrow your eyebrows, ignoring Helaena’s curious gaze at the sight of you two.

“Why would you ask this question?”

Alysanne hesitates, suddenly realizing this may not be the most proper place to speak. But since the music is now playing and the babbling is loud, you encourage her to speak her mind.

“I�� I had a nightmare again.”

“With what, my dove? You will claim your dragon, eventually”, you assure her.

“I know I will, but this isn’t it. I am talking about a red dragon being smashed. It looked terrifying to watch.”

Back then, you do not comprehend what red dragon is your daughter speaking of: neither you nor Aegon’s dragons possess red scales. Before you could find a way to assure your daughter this is nothing but a bad dream, a sound takes you out of your thoughts.

“I’d like to make a toast for these… Strong boys.”

Your eyes go wide at Aemond’s bluntness. Helaena is too surprised, and you two share a meaningful, confident look. Both of you take your children out of the dining table, sensing trouble is coming out.

Later, you come back to rush Aegon out of this mess.

“I was handling just well”, he tells you prideful.

Indeed, to your relief he bears no black eye. But by how Rhaenyra looks angry, you know enmity is official.

You hold her stare as you stroke your husband’s face.

“I know. Who could beat you, anyway? You did nothing wrong.”

And by saying that, you kiss his lips, finding home in his embrace.

***

• A Storm Of Iron Blades.

Later that night, there is nothing to occupy your thoughts. With your children asleep and your churching period finally at end, you gladly resume your activities.

And your favorite one is riding your husband, of course.

“Aegon!”, you cry out his name, searching for support against the wall as his hands hold firmly your hips whilst his tongue does wonderfulness in you. “Oh Gods!”

And you move your hips gracefully, smirking at the sight of subduing such a prideful prince, yours to be king.

You arch your back, smirking wide as he slaps your hips, hair now a complete puddle of mess as you come undone.

Your husband drinks every juice you give him, such is his thirst. But domineering he still is as, restless like usual, he flips positions and is now thrusting right into you.

“We are conceiving again”, he whispers against your hot skin, turning you around so your face can be seen. Aegon wraps a hand around your neck all the whilst he pulls your hair the way you like him to.

“One more child?”, you moan loud, burying your nails against his skin as you two move as one.

“I told you we are making this a grand family”, he thrusts harder, pleased to earn a louder moan this time.

Matching his hips with yours, Aegon knows you delegate him control. Every time you come after churching, you settle under him, legs firmly tied around his waist… and when you try to swap, oh snap! He got you there.

“Kiss me!”, you demand him. “Now!”

Aegon gladly complies to your commands, pursuing your lips desperately so. In a crazy demonstration of how your connection works, both of you reach climax at the same time.

As he lies his head at your left breast, Aegon strokes your cheek and says:

“Thank you.”

“What for?”, you ask him surprised.

“For giving me what I was refused: a family.”

You peck his lips, cuddling onto him.

“I love you, Aegon. I hope you know I’d do anything for you. Anything at all.”

As he looks up at him, Aegon knows the veracity of these words. And when he kisses you, the prince fears for them at the same.

Little Egg comes early next morning to get his father’s attention. You realize they are very close, which makes your chest swell with pride. It’s you who welcome your eldest when door opens and you are still breastfeeding baby Baelor, despite Aegon’s protest that you should be doing so in your bed not on your feet.

“Darling! What is it?”, you smile brightly at him.

Despite the nickname, Little Egg is hardly little now. He’s grown quite fast for his age and will most likely to be very tall in his early adulthood. His hair is long now, emulating his father’s.

“I want to see my lord father.”

Thankfully, Aegon has just left his privy quarters when his son’s voice reach him.

“What’s lord for? Father is just fine”, Aegon pulls a grimace at the formality.

Little Egg chuckles.

“My lady grandmother told me I should be mindful of my manners.”

“Who cares about what that old woman says?”, and here he ignores your weak protest at how your mother is addressed. “Come here, won’t you hug me properly?”

As you sit to finish feeding your baby and hold him close, you delight at the scene of Little Egg running to the arms of Aegon, chuckling as he is spinning around before putting down.

“A egg has hatched”, says your brave little boy. “I reclaimed it as mine.”

“Well, of course it’s yours!”, says Aegon, admired. “We put that egg with you since you were born. You slept it tightly with it!”

Little Egg blushes at his remark.

“Well, either way, it’s born! And it’s mine!”

“Fantastic! What’s the name of it?”

“I thought about something to honor your dragon, papa, since it’s golden with details in silver. So I figured to call it Goldenfyre.”

You swear you thought Aegon’d burst into tears. You too think some tears come from your eyes, aware of how important this is to your husband. A moment once stolen in his childhood, but somehow regained to compose his son’s.

“Will you show me Goldenfyre?”, Aegon smiles proudly at his boy.

“Yes”, Little Egg smiles timidly, but you spot pride in his eyes. “And after that I want to show mummy too.”

“Of course my dearest”, you tell him just as delighted.

“I also saved an egg to Baelor”, he tells you proudly when coming at you to earn a motherly kiss you give him.

“That’s my boy. Remember, this is your brother whom you shall always protect.”

Very serious, says your small version of your husband:

“I will not fail in this duty, mother.”

“I know you won’t.”

As you look up, finding Aegon as tearful as you, contentment finds solace in this new home, built over a wrecked one. Perhaps the Gods could be good, after all.

Not everything is about family, however. You need a moment to fly with Dreamfyre again and are about to do so with your youngster one when the Queen comes after you with a grave expression.

“Where is Aegon?”

“Greetings to you too, mother”, you do not mind the disdain in your tongue. “He’s with his son. Something you could have done too if you had the time.”

Alicent looks at her daughter as if she somehow wished you were like Helaena: quieter and serene, even though you are more than aware how your younger sister is also estranged with the Queen. Not that you have been very wayward, you have rarely been at her presence… is all.

Old wounds takes time to heal.

“This is not the moment nor the time to point out my wrongs. I know you will not understand the sacrifices I’ve made for this family, but I need you to summon Aegon.”

“Can you not do this yourself since you have sacrificed so much for us?”

Alicent sighs. At times she finds hard to look at you, and you know that is because you resemble Aegon.

“Your father…”

Now she has your attention. You think wise to give your maid your Baelor.

“Yes?”

What you find in your mother’s eyes knocks your pride down.

“Your father has… departed this world.”

In other words, you know you should be prepared to war. And how strange it is when for the first time in a long while you and the queen find comfort in each other with a hesitant embrace.

Outside, you could hear the lightenings.

***

You are flying Dreamfyre when clouds start to rumble. Your dragon turns her head to give you a look as if she’s sensing your intimate thoughts. Amidst the announce of a storm sun is starting to rise in the horizon and you should go back… but you are reluctant. So she knows where to take you.

To your surprise, though, you find him there. In the very spot where everything began. Has it almost been ten years since you and him professed feelings for each other? It certainly doesn’t feel like it.

“Egg”, you call him affectionately. “I wasn’t expecting to seeing you here.”

Aegon looks distraught, a view that much plagues your heart. You take his side and hold his hand.

“War is coming. She’s not going to accept I am our father’s heir.”

“We can do this”, you tell him firmly. To his surprise, you are determined to go to the end of it. “I know my place, but you must know yours. Father has determined as tradition has that a male heir is to sit upon the iron throne. This happens to be you.”

“I wasn’t prepared for the role”, Aegon admits in one of his rare displays of weakness.

You cup his cheeks with both hands and make him look at you. Aegon finds comfort in you, solace for his insecurities, which you know so well. What’s more is that you never left him.

You stayed.

“Circumstances are better teachers than theories. I can help you with that, though. I am not made of silk or dragon blood”, you flash him a side smirk. “I have a brain sharp as sword.”

“Y/N… I never underestimated you. We…”, and here he whispers. “We both know you’d be a better queen.”

You chuckle quietly, rubbing your nose against his. Rain starts to fall but you both seem immune to it.

“Shush. I know my place, husband. You will be a great king.”

As if convinced by your arguments, Aegon rests his head against your shoulder, and you rock him gently, stroking his silver locks.

“We are doing this for our children.” He tells you firmly, regaining his composure.

Hands intertwined, eyes locked. Mutual communication.

“My Visenya”, Aegon smiles, besotted.

“My Conqueror”, you beam at him.

And all is sealed with a kiss.

The green council is gathering and in the meantime you spend your time with your sister and your children.

“We must be wary”, whispers Helaena to you.

You cast her a knowing look.

“Can we prevent it to happen?”

“I don’t think so. The crown has a price to pay.”

“I shall do it so”, you tell her firmly.

And then the conversation breaks suddenly.

“Mama”, says Alysanne, running to her side. “Will papa get burnt?”

Never before you detested these dreams your daughter and sister share.

“No”, you assure her firmly, giving a side glance at Helaena, who’s holding her own children protectively. “Nothing bad will happen to him. This I vow.”

To the rest of the day, despite not contenting yourself with embroidery, you settle with the role of mother just fine. But as rain gets heavier outside, you know another will come eventually: that of a wife ready to fight for her husband.

Later that evening, as you watch the children playing with their father and you rock young Baelor against your chest, Aegon tells you the plans of his coronation.

Alysanne and Little Egg are almost fighting over who climbs faster in his father’s shoulders and when he turns at them with that smile you love and says:

“Hey. What did I say?”

“One at time”, grumbles Little Egg. “But I am the heir, therefore…”

“Heir you are, but you must not forget your manners, my son. Ladies first, or has chivalry died?”, and here you try to hide away your amusement.

“Fine. You go, sister.”

Alysanne puts out a tongue, but she too earns a reprehension of her father.

“Now, now, this is not the way, Lys.”

“Sorry”, she puts out a face that makes her irresistibly cute. Aegon chuckles and kisses her temple before putting her over his shoulders. “Weee! I’m flying!”

Aegon makes a noise that you suppose to emulate a dragon’s. The whole scene is adorable and gets your children’s attention. Soon he does the same to everyone—but Baelor, who’s asleep.

“Very well. Your father is tired, he’s done for the night. It’s late and you should be put in bed.”

“Papa”, says Jaehaera, putting his sleeve.

“Yes, daughter?”

“Can you tell us a story before we go to bed?”

“Yes!”, Alysanne runs to her sister’s side and the boys too, despite them pretending to lack interest, which amuses you.

“It’s your day, honey”, you tell him in between giggles. “I’m already occupied here.”

Aegon rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t want this arduous task. However, he makes sure to get the four children to put in your bed before getting to such a mission.

First, he gets Alysanne and Little Egg under blankets before putting the twins on his knees. Second… he makes sure to get their attention.

“Now listen up. Do you want to hear a story about a dragon princess who saved her dragon prince?”

“Hear! Hear!”, Little Egg cries out. “Ladies and gentlemen, no bard nor storyteller can match our dad!”

Aegon blushes.

“Why thank you for the praise, son. So I guess this is a yes?”

“Of course! There is romance too so we are all very pleased”, says a very romantic Alysanne.

You watch as your husband is set loose to your children. He likes the attention, but more so… he likes being their father.

If we were peasants, we’d be a merrier family.

Sweeping away these melancholic thoughts that make reference to an inevitable upcoming war, you focus on how happy he looks when the burden of wearing a crown is not smashing over him.

How loved he is when surrounded by these innocent toddlers who want to please him—and Aegon is eager to please them too.

You are teary at the scene. Alysanne is watching attentively as her father tells in his own your love story behind a great deal of creativity and fantasy, which makes you chuckle quietly. Jaehaera and her twin brother are not too far behind. These youngsters who like to make your quarters a mess are unusually quiet, captivated by their father’s voice, eyeing him with the most genuine devotion of a children.

Eventually though as the story comes to an end, they are all snoring.

“Well, my king. Our bed is full”, you laugh quietly as you put asleep Baelor carefully in his cradle.

Aegon smiles, moving to where you are and putting you against his arms.

“Thank you for giving me these beautiful children. I cannot believe I am this blessed.”

“How could it be otherwise? Oh Aegon, I love you.”

You spot some tears forming behind his eyes. He clears his throat, still uncomfortable with his own sentiments. Nevertheless he says:

“And I love you, my preciosity. You are my moon and stars.”

“And you are my sun and universe.”

This evening ends well. And you kiss him in turn.

But even sun sets in paradise. You are outdoors with Helaena, two maids and your children when Aemond comes in.

By the looks on his face nothing good is coming. You prepare for the bad news.

“What is it?”

Aemond cannot look at you, but it’s Helaena, who runs to his encounter, who casts a look at you and says:

“War has found its home. We best be prepared to fight it.”

Like a premonition, heavy rain starts to fall. You touch your hip, feeling that dagger you keep hidden underneath your silk gown.

“Well… Let war come. It will end with fire and blood”, you whisper to yourself before going back inside with the toddlers.

***

• A Dragon for A Dragon: The Cause Must Be Avenged.

You are by your husband’s side when the crown is put atop his head and Aegon raises his sword, applauded under the cheerful voices of “Long May Live King Aegon!”

It’s at you he looks for when his smug smirk curls on his lips. You nod approvingly, pride sparkling in your eyes.

Later that day, when council is opened, you are with the children when your husband summoned you. To a general surprise, Aegon wants his wife to be present at his council.

“My lady Y/N is as competent as my brother, Aemond”, he nods at his one-eyed sibling, who gives you a quick, indecipherable gaze. “That is my decision.”

“It is as it is”, says Otto in a dismissive tone. “We need to ponder what to do to counter Rhaenyra’s actions. She’s not inclined to peace.”

“We ought to do what it takes to preserve my crown”, muses Aegon. “Who are our allies?”

Someone starts to list them. You watch Aegon’s reaction, furrowing his eyebrows as he ponders what to do with the information.

“If I may speak”, says Aemond after some babbling dies. “I suggest we take Harrenhal. It’s my understanding the Blacks are heading its way there.”

“We use our dragons before they do. But if they are armed…”, you muse in almost in an inaudible suggestion.

Aegon shoots you a glance.

“Don’t.”

You sigh heavily, but don’t argue.

“I can go.”

“But we need Vhagar”, says Aegon. “Perhaps we can do without a dragon.”

“That is impossible. We are talking about a war of dragons, Your Grace”, says Otto, somewhat impossible. “We must preserve the dragons until we cannot. There’s no need to be in such a hurry. We will come out with a defense tactic.”

“Who’s the one intending to claim Harrenhal?”, you ask suddenly.

Ser Otto gives you a quizzical look, but it’s Aemond who answers you.

“Our uncle, Daemon Targaryen.”

“He’s the right hand of Rhaenyra”, you think out loud, not minding to call her a sister when Helaena does this role a lot better. “What about the other’s?”

“You are not considering getting into this fight, are you?”, to your surprise its Queen Alicent who voices out a general preoccupation.

“Visenya did so, my mother. Whilst I perform my duties accordingly, I shall stand for my husband’s right to wear his crown”, you flash him a smile and are pleased to see him regaining confidence.

“Your loyalty is touching, dear”, says Otto genuinely caring, for you and Helaena are his favourite grandchildren. “However, what military expertise do you have?”

“I am a great dragon rider and I could use this well”, you don’t find prudent to share that you’ve been taking sword lessons for a while. And by the looks Aegon gives you, you know he knows. “I could beat Baela, though.”

“This isn’t about vengeance. It’s about war.”

“War is founded upon vengeance, grandsire”, you speak gently. “Let it be said. A dragon for a dragon, my Aegon shall be avenged.”

That said you recline back to your chair, pleased to leave everyone in the room astonished with this side of yours few—except Aegon, Aemond and Helaena— are familiar with.

“You must stay for the children”, says Aegon. He’s walking from one side to the other, in evident display of nervousness.

It’s just the two of you in the council room this afternoon.

“I cannot handle the possibility of…”

He leaves his fears unspoken and it’s when you walk to where he is and holds his face with your hands.

“We are in this together, whether you like it or not. Your birth right will not be stolen from you. As our children’s…”, you smile at him, fondly. “We will wage this war, but with no need to be cruel.”

Aegon rests his forehead against yours, nodding in an agreement. It’s when he pursuits your lips and you let him lead the way. Suddenly, the kiss evolves and you are gladly lying against the table as he moves over you.

Every issue is kept drowned when the needs of flesh overcomes each. Aegon needs you as much as he needs you. Here comes that boy, starving for affection, that you know.

You gasp as his callous hands run over your thighs, lifting the skirts of your gown as his lips brush against your neck, biting your neck, leaving traces of bruises.

“Aegon”, you moan out his name in response of his eager fingers digging to your core. “Oh Gods!”

His eyes look for yours and when finding yours, your hands hold his hair, pulling him over you.

“My husband”, you gasp, moving your hips against his skillful hands, and soon you take your seat at the edge of the table.

“No”, he groans against your ear when perceiving your intentions. “Just sing out to me…”

But you answer to none—despite gladly obeying him in all when it’s due—so you smirk rebelliously when your hand finds the path to his pants.

“Come here… Let’s do it together”, and you whisper in his ear. “Remember when you taught me?”

Aegon closes his eyes, already unbearably aroused by your words. You bite his earlobe, moaning softly as you speak unspeakable things, caressing his manhood until it pumps against your palm.

“Fuck”, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. “Fuck, Y/Nickname…”

“Yes, baby. Together. We are always together…”

And when he rises his eyes and bites your bottom lip… well, he replaces his hand with something else and it takes little time until you reach climax.

Together.

As it has always been.

“I love you”, you mumble in his ear.

“I love you”, he whispers back.

***

“A king cannot be so until he leads his soldiers”, says Aegon before the council.

To a general astonishment, this is Aegon announcing his preparations to war.

“A king delegates others of his trust for a good reason, Aegon”, your mother snaps at him. “Do not play the reckless…”

“I think it’s funny”, you muse out loud, attracting the council’s gaze—with particular notice to a smirking Aegon, aware of how subtle your temper works, and for which he’s grateful. “How so many of you planned to make the transition to this new reign in a peaceful form, and yet when it is more than clear that war is inevitable… you stop the king to do what’s must. War should have been prevented many moons ago, but this is not the time to live based on “what ifs”. If diplomacy is not the answer…”

You stand, and you swear you detect an approval smirk from Aemond himself.

“…then fire is.”

“May I suggest a fare point that could be turned to our advantage?”, and here Aemond speaks in turn.

“Well, it appears I speak to deaf ears”, grumbles Otto Hightower.

“Listen to Aemond, grandsire. We are not as impulsive as you judge”, you speak softly.

After a moment of silence, the Hand of the king reluctantly lets Aemond speak, of which your brother is thankful for. And you take your seat next to your mother.

What happens next, however, will test the stability of your husband’s cause.

“Baela has been spotted flying near Storm’s End”, you are glancing through the window when you hear Aemond’s whispering to his brother. “She’s sent there in order to bring Baratheons to Rhaenyra’s side.”

“And what do we know about their position?”, inquires Aegon.

As the two men speak, your eyes concentrate at what happens at the yard. Unaware of a grave event that is to mark their father’s reign, Little Egg and Alysanne are playing with Maekar and Rhaella in complete synchrony. You feel a fang of guilt for not spending time with them, but you convince yourself this will pass. After all, you cannot neglect the role of wife. When you told Aegon you’d do anything for him, you meant every word.

“Y/N”, Aegon comes at you, hands resting over your waist. He knows what afflicts you. “When I told you to stay, I’ve meant it.”

He turns you at him, sensing your tears as if he senses his own. You cannot repress all this stress that you’ve been going through. You simply… cannot. And he’s there to hold you, to pick your pieces up.

“You don’t have to be strong the entire time”, he whispers to you, cupping your cheeks and fighting away your fears. “Look at me. I demand it as your king.”

You chuckle lightly, but when you raise your gaze, you know you are the one exposed for the very first time. And Aegon appreciates it.

“This is often the reversed role, is it not? It’s usually me asking for comfort and not the other way around”, and here he wipes the tears off your eyes. “Your unending loyalty to me, regardless of my vices and countless flaws, is a very endearing gift. We have fragilities and they do not make us weak. It makes us… humans, I think. Not a word I think of often, but here’s a brilliant learning you’ve taught me.”

And he proceeds:

“I honestly did not wish our family ripped apart like that, more than aware knowing how a war between kin displeases the deities. But what else can I do? This is not about us, but about our children’s future. I want our five, and hopefully six, toddlers to grow strong and with a prospective future”, he smiles when he manages to get something out of your sadness. “I lament it mostly deep that I’ve brought such misfortune to our family. I wish it was otherwise, that you were proud of me…”

“I am proud of you”, you cut him. “Aegon, I could not look elsewhere and choose someone else to be espoused to. As much as I get along with Aemond, this isn’t the man I love. Who did I come up to this world with? You, Aegon Targaryen. I weep because I want to give you the peace you deserved. I witnessed all these wounds and…”

Aegon swallows his own tears, knowing today you are the one who needs comforts. He comes to realize that, being this stronghold for so long, you too had your own wounds, your own pieces to get.

Oh my darling, Y/N. We are their creatures, are we not?

“You are my sun and stars”, he mumbles. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself, Y/N. We are healing together, won’t we? This is us against the world, my lovely wife.”

Lifting your chin, he presses a soft kiss over your eyes and says:

“You gave me everything I was refused in these years. You gave me love when I had none, you restored me trust when I lacked in; you granted me happiness when I was unworthy it. You make my days a lot better.”

A pause comes where a comfortable silence hangs in between. You rest your forehead against his, breathing in his silence.

“If we came to this world together…”, you whisper secretively.

“…then it is only natural that we leave it together”, Aegon vows it with a smile on his lips.

The decision is done and the pact is made.

***

You see Aegon flying high with Sunfyre and a bad feeling consumes you. Aemond is there too, so he’s going to Vhagar when you stop him.

“Nay”, you tell him firmly. “Leave this to me.”

You are not wearing your court garments, but prepared to go to war. Underneath green and silk, with some adjustments, you are dressing hauberk with two sharp blades carefully guarded. Your long silver hair is tied in a perfectly braid.

“Today we don’t spot Alyssa”, says Otto, concerned about your bold attitude, narrowing his eyes as you mount Dreamfyre and fly high. “But Visenya Targaryen has come to us.”

A remark that would later echo through generations of poets.

What you and Aegon agreed was to inspire soldiers in order to go to local Y/C and there make it a stronghold to his cause. However, spies delivered news that Baela Targaryen is preparing to wage war… with her grandmother, Rhaenys.

Yet, who’s coming is Rhaenys’s red dragon, Meleys. Suddenly you are remembered of your daughter’s dreams and her fear in losing her father.

In order to try to prevent agony making a nest in your heart, in barely gritted teeth you command Dreamfyre to fly above skies—as high as possible without, however, missing Aegon’s position. After that, you promised yourself to fly to Baela’s encounter: there is an unknown bad blood that you find urgent to resolve at last.

In the meantime, though, this isn’t about you, but your king, your lover, your brother, father of your children. This isn’t about a crown, but the legacy of your family—misadjusted they may be, but it’s still the one you are part of.

Grey clouds begin to assemble, but Dreamfyre flies as if it’s in her natural environment. She knows your thoughts and sentiments, she’s prepared to fight even if for a while she hasn’t been part of any of the kind.

But she can fiery.

“Baby girl, be careful. Meleys can be…”

Your words die in your throat when you see fire coming from the old red dragon. Suddenly, Dreamfyre takes a deep dive and gives such a strong bite against Meleys, getting her off guard. Part of the flames may get to you, and you think you hear Aegon screaming your name—you’re fueled with adrenaline, and you cannot stop.

All you know is that, moved by your sentiments, Dreamfyre does drag Meleys down. And it only comes to an end when both rider and creature fall down.

An explosion is heard and felt. You are flying high, Dreamfyre’s sound coming as if echoing your silent mixed feelings. Now adrenaline comes to pass, you realize part of your arm is burnt—and it hurts like hell.

“Are you well, D?”, you ask your dragon, more concerned about her than to your own wounds, in spite of the unspeakable pain.

As if to nod that she is doing perfectly well, Dreamfyre turns her head. It’s when Aegon comes at you.

“My wife!”, and when you turn at him you spot concern in his eyes.

“I told you”, and suddenly weakness comes to shake your senses. “I’d do anything… anything… for…”

And why do words die in your mouth and everything is dark? You have no idea, but you swear that you hear Aegon yelling as your eyes close.

***

• The Aftermath.

In a twist of events, Aegon II refuses to leave your bed until you open your eyes. Nothing can take his mind off you, therefore all matters are placed for now in the hands of Otto Hightower.

Your children have momentarily been put under the care of their aunt Helaena, for so distressed is the king that he cannot fail his children now.

But gods be good and you recover your strength. To your surprise, Aegon is next to your side.

“How… What…”

“My beloved wife”, Aegon smiles warmly when seeing you well and safe, mostly important: alive. “My greatest defensor. Imprudent and reckless, but possessor of the sweetest heart I know.”

He kisses you carefully, as if he’s afraid of losing you.

“What happened? Did we win? How’s Dreamfyre?”

“Calm yourself, love. Rest”, says your husband in most affectionate tone, though firm. “Dreamfyre suffered little damaged in comparison to your broken and burnt right arm and neck. Good grief, woman. It was supposed to be me.”

“No”, you breathe out of relief. “Not you. Never.”

Carefully you lean to his side, not minding the slight pain given just by a slight move. You caress his face, seeing his concern, the fear of losing you… that you risked your life for him, something none has ever done for him…

“I love you”, he whispers like the needy boy he is. “Don’t leave me, Y/N.”

“I love you too, my king”, you brush your lips against his, fingers intertwining together. “We promised to leave this world the same we walked in here, didn’t we?”

Aegon half smiles at you.

Even though the battle is won, the war hasn’t ended yet.

With you regaining your strength, domestic life—where the king’s and yours are concerned—goes back to what it was before your accident.

“Papa, is mama well?”, Jaehaera asks him, eyes tearful.

She’s clinging onto him as he rocks her in his arm. This afternoon you are resting and he’s decided that he needs a break of governing for a moment as well.

Under his watchful gaze, Alysanne is working in her embroidery and Jaehaerys is playing toys with his eldest brother.

“She is resting, my love. But I assure you”, and here he pauses to kiss his daughter’s cheek, earning him a beam that breaks his inner walls, “that she is well. Your mama is as dragon as you.”

“I am a dragon because of her”, Jaehaera corrects him, which makes Aegon chuckle.

Oh aren’t you adorable? How could I father such a pure child? And how… how else does she love me so?

In order to avoid the depth of such thoughts, Aegon limits himself in kissing his daughter’s forehead. Then he drives his fatherly gaze to his offspring.

“What are you seeing there, Alys? Let me see.”

Alysanne is blushing before her father’s attention. Very pompously, she takes her embroidery work so he can take a look.

“Aunt Helaena has taught me how to use the needle properly. I was struggling with the smaller ones”, she admits somewhat shyly so. “So here’s a green dragon. I want to mark in my gown your coat of arms, papa.”

Aegon swallows before the sight of his daughter, whose eyes show an eagerness to please him—a feeling he knows so well, but unlike Alysanne’s case, he was never corresponded. Precisely why the king beams and says:

“I am very proud of your skills, Alys. I am unworthy of such an honor”, says he with a wide smile.

In this sacred moment with his daughters so close, Aegon doesn’t see you come by. You are leaning against the wall, pleased to find your family in complete harmony.

Your boys, getting along… Jaehaerys trying to impress a very serious Little Aegon in his building, earning an eventual smile of his older brother’s approval. All the whilst Jaehaera sleeps in her father’s lap and Jaehaera is blushing pleasantly at the praises she receives him.

It makes you think of your own scars. How many times you tried to please your father and all you got was dismissive waves, distant conversations and comparisons to Rhaenyra?

Containing a sigh, you know how all of this is nothing to what you have now, but it’s pointless to deny these scars. They make you who you are, as it’s Aegon’s case.

Both of you are everything your parents were not. When Aegon looks at you with a smile on his lips, you smile too because you know you succeeded at it.

Despite the gleeful scenarios, war is still going. You are barely recovered when there are news of Baela flying to take y/c, a very important spot for the cause she defends.

You are listening to the Green Council’s strategies when you find Aemond and Aegon’s gaze on you. You lower yourself, but you know why they are concerned about you.

When defending Aemond so many moons ago, it was Baela who hit you hard. Even though you managed to knock her down, your fury was such that left the boys open mouthed by then.

A grudge that you were never able to overcome. A wound that time didn’t heal.

But the opportunity comes just fine.

“I can patrol skies”, you announce casually.

“I forbid you, Y/N”, Aegon is the first to protest. “There is no need to…”

“Y/C stays close to King’s Landing”, you muse, trying to remain calm.

“She’s not daring to come nearby when Vhagar is here”, interferes Aemond.

Both of you exchange looks. You bite down your lips, saying no more. However�� opportunity to fight for your husband is coming once more, and yet at what cost?

Days go by when it’s decided that Aemond shall take Harrenhal on behalf of the Crown. This comes after Rhaenyra suffers another blow: her son Jacaerys was defeated once for all in an encounter against Aegon himself.

“I’m proud of you”, you smile the brightest as you two parade at the capital. “A great victor, that you are!”

Aegon flushes at your compliments. This day you and him ride splendid horses before all, richly dressed in order to reinforce signs that the civil war is coming to an end.

“As I am”, he takes your hand to his lips, not minding the courtly rules where public display of affection is concerned. “My greatest defensor. I am nothing without you, Y/N.”

Despite taking pride in this acknowledgment, you play the humble.

“My king, this is untrue. I only do what I am asked of: to daily submit my will to yours, to provide you heirs, to pledge for the safety of our subjects during this rebellion”, you smile at him for, despite the embellishment of your words, you speak such with your heart.

“My queen, blessed by the divine with the utmost caring for this one who gives you word; your unending loyalty and wisdom beyond your years played a great part in the conduct of the affairs of this realm. Whether I wage wars, whether I bring peace to our subjects it is in you and in the beautiful children you provided me that I think of.”

In silence, when he squeezes your hand and nods at you, you know what he means. And as you smile timidly and play the humble queen, he knows what you speak too.

In your own ways, underneath this public exhibition, one tells the other:

I love you.

‘Tis enough to make the people rejoice and praise for the health of King Aegon the Wise and Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen.

***

• Epilogue.

War had its costs. But it eventually came to an end. Upon its twilight, revenge bled two broken houses of one dynasty for the last time. Aegon met his sister, Rhaenyra, just after you defeated Baela at the Battle of Stormlands, which would later be sang by bards how ‘two damsels, misled by the ambitions of men, took their dragons to a deadly feast and thus they danced’ until ‘the lady Baena was stabbed in the heart by a very bold move of Queen Y/N’.

Some of superstitious folks believed to have seen in you the ghost of Queen Visenya.

You brought a victory to your cause, but got yourself a broken arm. Dreamfyre was hurt too, but not injured enough to impede her to fly with you over the lands of the Baratheons, who welcomed you.

In the meantime this happened, Daemon Targaryen was defeated and Aemond conquered it all. Daemon’s lover, the witch queen of the place, Alys Rivers, attempted to transfer her affections to his nephew—unsuccessfully so. It was rumored that he said the following words:

“Mine heart knoweth no lady that is not mine damsel, Helaena.”

What was her destiny after these words were professed? The chroniclers could not tell. She vanished and many attributed to Lord Aemond her death.

Whatever the truth, Lady Helaena and her offspring moved with Silverwing to meet her husband, ignoring his orders that she should not do so until he sent for her. Apparently she knew what the outcome was going to be.

As for the battle between Rhaenyra and her brother for the throne, Rhaenyra was defeated. However, it was you who interfered on behalf of the kingdom to impede her death.

An agreement was arranged: Rhaenyra, albeit reluctantly, renounced her rights to the throne and agreed to wed her sons to you and Aegon’s daughters, as well as to wed her daughters to your sons. Peace was finally sealed and she was left to live in Dragonstone.

Once reunited, in the present day this feud is now a page in history. You are enjoying better days, ruling behind the scenes as Aegon conducts the realm with a wit that surprised most.

“He is a good king”, you tell your mother in a day where, to a general surprise, Aegon brokered a peace treaty with the Dornish. “Why it surprises you goes beyond my comprehension.”

Today you are dressing a long green, silk gown with reinforces your curves; your silver locks are carefully braided under a hair net that reminds Alicent of the days the dowager queen used to wear it herself. Besides the ravishing look, you wear the jewels Aegon recently gifted you: a pair of emerald earrings and a gold necklace.

“He was hardly the most devoted to studies, is all”, so your mother tells you.

It is a curious contrast how, after many years, you and her found a way to overcome parental issues. But even now, you find difficult to accept some of the critics she at times weaves to her eldest boy.

“Please, it was only lack of proper encouragement”, you roll your eyes as a response.

“I see I cannot make a comment about my son when I’m with you. Let us change topics”, and here she smiles. “I heard you are carrying another child.”

“Well, what can I say? Aegon makes it difficult not to engage in marital affairs”, you giggle maliciously.

Upon which Queen Alicent scoffs, feigning offense.

“To hear these words from the Good Queen Y/N?!”

“Why, I am not complaining. Pretty much otherwise.”

In between chuckles, you move to the gardens where the dowager queen finds all her grandchildren playing together.

Aemond, recently acknowledged as Hand of the King, is talking to Aegon, probably something about the affairs of the realm—judging by their serious countenance. But the one eyed prince is also attentive to his wife, Helaena, who’s teaching the now ten year old Alysanne to improve the girl’s skills, joined by their daughter Rhaella, same age as her cousin. As well as how Maekar and Little Egg—as Aegon’s heir will be always known—are talking nonsenses of their age.

The little ones are not too far behind. Aegon is holding three year old Baelor as he talks to his brother, but is in a position where he can watch over the young toddlers. It does not go unnoticed by all how Jaehaera tries to be friends with another Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son, who was sent with Viserys to be educated at court. Aegon doesn’t look very pleased, but young Viserys is too busy playing with cousins Jaehaerys and Aerys.

When seeing you with their mother coming at the happy meeting, Aegon soon excuses himself to greet you.

“My mother”, he pays the due respects to Queen Alicent, and then doing the same to you. “My lovely wife.”

“Aegon my darling”, and here you pick the chubby baby out of his arms. “Baelor, did you miss mama? Or were you too spoiled by daddy?”

Aegon gives you a smug grin.

“Well, isn’t this why I’m their father in the first place?”

“Not to overindulge, my love.” But not even you believe in what you are saying.

Soon, Helaena and Aemond join the three of you.

“Together at last”, and not to a general surprise Helaena greets you with a warm smile and her own way in showing her affection to you.

“Greetings to you too, my dearest. I was having a moment with our mother. She has some news to share”, you flash the dowager queen a mischievous smirk, pleased to find her blushing.

“Oh…”

“Shh, don’t ruin the surprise.”

To which Aemond confides a whisper to Aegon:

“As if it’s a surprise to know what she’s yet to tell.”

“It did take more years than we’ve judged”, the elder of the two agrees, struggling to muffle a chuckle.

“Well, I was worried… due to the recent events that concerned us all, that…” the Queen doesn’t really know how to put it.

But Helaena makes it easy for all of you.

“If you are happy, then we are happy for you.”

“You deserve it, mother”, you echo your sister’s support.

“But I…”

“Do not protest. We’ve always seen Ser Criston as the father we didn’t have”, says Aegon.

“He did indeed raise us, though”, so Aemond points the obvious.

“I appreciate your support. Then I think we should invite Ser Criston to join us.”

“Later, perhaps”, says Aegon, mirroring that old mischievous spirit that characterized his youth. “I need a moment with my wife and my children if you excuse me.”

“Oh yes, the family man”, teases Aemond discreetly before getting a punch in his arm.

This afternoon, all parts well and in restored peace as it should have been the way it started long time ago.

***

Aegon has just flew with Sunfyre and Little Egg with his own dragon. It’s a good time to do so and represents a unique moment between father and son.

When looking at this growing boy, who’s about to rise to Prince of Dragonstone in due time, Aegon struggles to see he’s no longer that toddler easily impressed with Sunfyre and his first time flying high.

“You are looking at me in a funny way”, says his son as they land and go back to their quarters. “Do you have news to share? Or is it the way I conduct…?”

“No, no. Not at all”, and here he pulls Egg under his arm, ruffling his hair and pleased to get him some chuckles. “I was just noticing that you are growing to a fine man and I am not ready to let that go yet.”

“You sound like mom”, and so typically he pulls a grimace.

“Your mother loves you as much as I do. One day you’ll have children of your own and you’ll see what I mean. As for news, did I tell you that your grandmother secretly remarried and believed no one would suspect she did so?”

The fourteen year old boy laughed loud. A sound that somehow is almost equal to his. Aemond smiles.

“No! I cannot believe my ears! Was she espoused by Ser Criston? But that man…”

“Shush. He’s your grandsire now.”

But the idea brings the two to joint laughters.

Aegon is all smiles when he’s with his girls too. After spending a while hearing Jaehaerys’s proudly progress in his studies, a deed that does impress him, he’s doting on his princesses too. You are already pompously dressed for the dinner when you find your husband hearing Jaehaera’s recent claimant in her dragon which she named Moonfyre because of the curious mix of silver and red scales.

A deed that did impress her elder sister and father.

“I know we have a great bond”, says the seven year old excitedly. “But…”

“But you are likely the youngest of our dynasty to have ridden a dragon! And all by yourself!”, and here Aegon cannot help himself and fuss over Jaehaera, who blushes pleasantly. “My little girl is getting me some headache in the future, I can already foresee it!”

“Well, she has so much of her father to be blamed on it”, you smile at him.

What a scene. Aegon joins you, not the king circumstances made him, but the grown man you loved since you could remember. When he tangles you in his arms and doesn’t mind being affective to you—“uuuuuugh” would tease the boys and even Jaehaera makes a grimace—, you know those wounds took time to heal.

Love prevailed over all.

As you’ve always believed it.

King Aegon II and his Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen were found dead in an embrace that would be turned into marble. Theirs is one of the longest reign, despite the early years of civil war.

Aegon II is succeeded to his eldest son, Aegon III, married to Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. Aegon’s Hand was his long time loyal cousin, Maekar, who wedded his sister Rhaella.

No more turmoils to be seen… for a long while. Dragons did die, as foreseen by Alysanne, who became Princess of Dorne in due time, but they also survived and prospered.

484 notes · View notes

howdoesagrapewrites · 1 year ago

Text

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: fem!reader, cisgender female reader (I'm sorry mascs and nbs, I'll make something for you later) incest/targcest implied for later, platonic and romantic yanderes, yandere EVERYONE x reader, here's a list of every character that will be featured (not all of them are romantic):Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhea Royce, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Viserys I Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Haelena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Laena Velaryon, Laenor Velaryon

Notes: I go by a very strange mix of the series and the books, I haven't seen the series in a while so the timeline will most likely be a mess. I'd like this to be a series but I've been incredibly busy. Extra: at first I thought about making reader Mysaria's daughter, but this is a self insert, so it's best that you look however you like, leaving the mother anonymous. The only physical reference I'll make will be reader's silver hair

>After Rhaenyra was declared the heir of the iron throne, Daemon, insulted, flew away with his mistress, the white worm, who he would conceive a child with, even asking for a dragon egg for the prince or princess to come

>However, Viserys demanded him to go back to his home and wife, he sent Mysaria off to lys, where the stress of a storm in the trip back made her lose the baby

>Daemon never fully forgave his brother, and this left him less than eager to have another child anytime soon

>So imagine his surprise, when 7 years later, there's a rumour spreading in flea bottom like wildfire, about a girl carrying Daemon's bastard

>Many women had claimed to carry a royal child before, thinking this could give them any sort of prize, so Daemon didn't think much of it at first, but when he heard her name, he recognized her as one of his previous "favorites" who disappeared without a trace months ago

>She was said to have taken residence in Essos, and Daemon went on dragonback to find her. She was from the free cities, five years older than Daemon, and a heart as cold as a northern winter, or so they said. She was not expecting Daemon, running away to have the child in peace

>"They said I was too far along when I found out, moon tea would've only harmed me. Besides, it was lucrative in its own way" said the woman. Daemon did little to suppress the disgust on his face when thinking about her being defiled by other men while carrying his dragonseed babe

>She wanted no part in the baby's life, and Daemon, in his particular fashion, informed her he'd take the youngling as soon as it's out of her, may even pay her a few coins to make sure she won't do much as think about keeping it

>A few months passed, and he returned to king's landing with a babe in arms. Demanding an egg in honor of the birth of princess Y/N Targaryen

>This egg would later hatch into the dragon Dagahrion, the princess' bound dragon

>The court was a hot mess, according to Otto, he wouldn't be surprised if the young creature lost its left ear because of all the gossip and ill-speaking of her, just like her father. This was a scandal, considering he was still married to Rhea Royce, who he gravely dishonored time and time again, Daemon was always shameless, but this was crossing a limit, even for him, to call his bastard a princess while refusing to lay with his own rightful wife, disgraceful

>Daemon tried to use you as yet another attempt to get his brother to annul his marriage to "the bronze bitch", but even when he failed, he did everything in his power to legitimize his daughter

>Despite everyone on the council telling Viserys how foolish it'd be to do it, making enemies out of the Royce house, further insulting Rhea, and putting a whoreborn on the line of succession (no matter how far from the throne), all it took was a little yawn and the bright twinkle of your eyes to make him melt, he is fully committed to his role of uncle, even as a doting grandfather, considering his father passed long before her birth

>Viserys sent Daemon back to the Vale, saying he should do his best to give lady Rhea an heir, to make up for the slip and avoid causing the Targaryen house any more trouble. Viserys, for totally not selfish reasons wanted to keep the princess in KL, saying Rhea should not be made to raise his bastard

>Daemon said he'd rather be exiled again than to leave his daughter in Hightower hands to go try to fuck his wife. Viserys was greatly offended by the implication that the Hightowers truly ruled and schemed while he reigned

>To his outmost displeasure, he finally had to let his niece go to the Vale with her father

>Rhea loved you as soon as she set eyes on you, completely separating you from your father's actions, and seeing you as a pure angel in this horrible situation

>But it was so difficult with Daemon around, she just wanted to whisk you away and love you, she'd pray to the mother to be able to breastfeed you, crying when she heard you wail in frustration of your hunger, since it took several wet nurses to get you to drink milk

>But Daemon was always around to remind her you were not hers, that he considered her lowly, not worthy of you. He'd correct you when you learning to speak, and dared to refer to her as "mama"

>It was said the ground of the vale would shake upon them yelling when fighting over you

>But this joy to Rhea was short lived, as Daemon sent you to KL when he had to fight in the war of the stepstones, saying the "nest of vipers" was more deserving of you than she was. When you were three, your step mother had an accident while hawking, many said Daemon orderded for her to be poisoned when she was bed bound, others said the distress of your parting made her lose skill

>It was Viserys greatest pleasure when you were left at his care, his adorable baby niece was now an infant, and somehow you were even more charming, being able to speak, sing and walk

>To no one's surprise, Viserys' reaction was not generalized, with many not being keen on having a bastard running around the castle playing with the princes, by that point, Aegon was 8, Haelena was 7, Aemond was 5, and Daeron was 1, and almost all of them could see people treated you differently

>Rhaenyra was welcoming, baby Lucerys had just been born, and she was delighted to have a girl to spoil, it only helped that Jacaerys loved you as well, and would often fight his uncles for the chance to be with you

>Alicent in particular was not pleased with your presence, thinking you were an uncomfortable conversation to have with her children, especially resentful of the fact her youngest son would be attached at the hip with you

>To Otto, you were an annoyance, a living proof of Daemon's pure disregard for the norms, however, he could rest at night knowing you were ninth in the line of succession, and a girl, who would someday marry a son of a minor house and be too busy bearing children to present a claim to the iron throne

>Even though the Hightowers were tougher than the king, they did eventually succumb to your spell, and became just as enamoured with you as everyone else, in their minds, you were almost a product of spontaneous generation, completely ignoring your shameful father and prostitute mother

>Your arrival also caused the birth of Lucerys (who was again, born with a striking resemblance of Harwin Strong, just like his older brother) to be less gossiped about, after all, your case was much more interesting

>Some people in court starting referring to you as "The princess of flea bottom", this title costed quite a few tongues around the castle, ordered by Viserys, happily approved by Otto

>The Hightower hand was careful not to show too much affection to you, as it was improper and he knew how zealous was Viserys when it came to you

>Aegon was "already too old to be playing" in his words, and kept his distance from you, you reminded him to much of his sticky handed little brothers

>But as if you knew, you chased him around and praised him for his knightly demeanor (in your eyes) and how he's just like the heroes in Viserys' stories. It was not a long time before Aegon now appointed himself as your guard, watching like a hawk over his brothers and nephews when he thought they were being too rough on you

>Haelena loves you from the start, sees you as a little doll, she loves showing you her bugs, you're the only one who listens to her attentively

>Jacaerys and Daeron are only a year old, but always search for you, you think they're cute, something that spikes jealousy on Aemond, he wants you to think of him as someone worthy of admiration, like you see his older brother, he'd even accept being cute in your eyes, but he has none of those traits to appeal to you. You love him and love playing with him nonetheless, but he thinks he needs something else to win your favor

>The Velaryons dote on you too, with Laenor married to Rhaenyra and once your father marries Laena that same year, they are maybe too eager to become part of your family, and regard you as theirs

>Especially Laena, who Daemon allows (unlike with Rhea) to pamper and care for you, but still corrects you when it comes to remembering your origins, Laena may love you, but she's not your mother

>Maybe Daemon does this as a way to imagine you're only his, he doesn't care for the woman who abandoned such a precious treasure, she has been wiped away from your life and memory, you're only familiar with your father, you only belong to him

>You have his silver hair, you have his name, no matter who your mother was, you are his true valyrian heir, his dragonseed

>Unfortunately, Daemon is not the only one whose eyes light up when thinking of owning you

#yandere hotd #yandere targaryens #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere Jacaerys Velaryon #yandere aegon targaryen #Yandere Aegon II #aegon ii x reader #yandere Haelena Targaryen #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader

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dried-mushroom · 6 months ago

Text

My Queen

Aemond 'one-eyed' Targaryen x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, incest (uncle & niece), oral sex (m receiving), public handjob, fingering, missionary sex, porn with plot, short slow burn, Aemond is head over heels for you, soft! Aemond

Enjoy!!!!!

You were the firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Harwin Strong. No stark resemblance to the knight as do your siblings, as you were the only one born with silver Targaryen hair. This made you stand out compared to your brothers, as their heritage was a common topic for gossip, and they did not have a single feature from Ser Laenor, your mother's betrothed. You were still considered a true Targaryen and not a bastard child nonetheless.

It had been years since your family had been back to Kings landing, years since you'd seen your uncles, Aegon and Aemond. You had less than fond memories of the older prince as a teen, he was always trying to get you alone and mentioning how he could satisfy you better than any other lord or knight. You often ignored his words but sometimes he was just too vile to bare.

His brother on the other hand intrigued you. He was much quieter than Aegon, but he spoke to you often. Usually, it was only small talk when you ran into the prince. You honestly didn't mind, as you may have developed a liking for the younger prince. What you weren't expecting was he already wanted you for himself.

The clearest memories between you and Aemond were when your brothers and your uncle decided to tease him about his lack of claiming a dragon. You knew how cruel Jace and Luke could be, as they enjoyed making your life harder so to speak. You lectured them both when you found out what they did to Aemond and searched for the young prince.

When you found him perched against an old oak tree, with his head in his hands, you sat next to him. As he turned to face you, you could see how red and raw his eyes were, obviously from crying. You tried to apologize for your brother's behaviour but he didn't want your pity, instead, he told you not to worry, and that he would make sure he gained a dragon. He didn't enjoy being harsh towards you and apologized later that day by gifting you a book with a note inside.

Another less fond memory of your prince was the night of Lady Laena's funeral. The entire day had an aura of gloom, and you could tell the tension was tightening between your family and Aemond's. Rhaenyra and Alicent were clawing at each other's throats every time they were close and the rumour that your mother had birthed four bastards was certainly a rumour that the HighTowers were eager to entertain, just so that your mother was seen as an untrustworthily whore.

Yet you remained close to Aemond, usually strolling around the grounds of the castle together or watching him train to duel with his brother and Ser Criston. But that dreadful night something changed, that night he finally got one of the two things he always wanted; to claim a dragon. Vhagar, Laena's dragon was sleeping peacefully until Aemond woke her, and through his bravery and her compliance, He successfully bonded with her by commanding her to calm herself and serve him in High Valyrian.

He quickly got the hang of it and rides the dragon around High Tide before landing. Vhagar was the biggest dragon in Westeros and the most powerful of any dragons the Targaryen's had. Whilst his little flying escapade, Laena's daughters noticed his absence and could hear the familiar roar coming from their mother's dragon, so they rushed over to Jace and Luke to help them find who had stolen the dragon, which was meant for the eldest Velarylon girl, Rhaena.

You were resting against a cold stone wall, seemingly fazed, when your younger brothers and cousins rushed up to you and told you about your uncle. You suddenly recalled hearing the familiar noise of the dragon and Aemond had excused himself from you as he 'felt ill' earlier. You trailed behind the four as they went to inside the castle searching for Aemond. When they spotted the young prince, they all started arguing over who had a claim to the dragon. You stayed behind them, not entirely wanting to be there.

Without a second thought, Rhaena hit Aemond for an insult he had said to her about her mother, but the latter was stronger and threw her to the ground. Your brothers quickly joined in the fight. Jace pushed Aemond to the ground and he broke Luke's nose somehow. You felt conflicted, about who to defend; either your brothers or the boy you've liked for what seemingly felt like eons.

You tried to get in between Luke and Aemond to break them up. Aemond wasn't thinking straight and accidentally hit you with a rock he had in his hand, to use on Luke. As soon as he realised what he did he dropped the rock and started apologising profusely, but Jace thought it was the perfect time to get revenge on the prince for hurting his big sister and stealing their cousin's dragon, as he threw sand into the boy's eyes and Luke slashed the boy in the right eye, blinding him.

You quickly snapped out of your pain haze and quickly rushed over to the wailing boy, whose face was now covered in blood. You couldn't believe what your brothers had done. Everything became a blur after that moment, you remember blood soaking your light-coloured dress and guiding Aemond through the castle to his mother. Him clutching you tightly, still muttering apologies to you, your relatives spewing their disgust at you for aiding the prince.

The last time you and the prince spent time was the most memorable. It was the day your mother remarried to her uncle, Daemon. You, Jace, and Luke were told by your mother that you all would be leaving for dragonstone and to say your goodbyes, the handmaidens would pack your belongings but be ready to leave King's landing before noon. This sudden news upset you heavily as you would be separated from Aemond and your friends for God knows how long. You wandered around the castle soaking in each and every detail as if it were the last. You made your way to Aemond's chambers, worried about his reaction to your leaving.

The both of you got incredibly closer ever since that fight, seemingly you both were joined at the hip, always sharing longing glances that teetered on the border of platonic. Once you reached the door and knocked, the familiar face of your blonde prince greeted you, eagerly letting you inside his room. You picked at your cuticles, not wanting to share the news with Aemond. He noticed the disdain on your face, and spoke "What's wrong, Princess Y/N?" you sighed, "Mother wants me and my brothers to travel to dragon stone for some time, she told us to say our goodbyes and to be ready to leave at midday. I'm so sorry." His smile faulted, as he took in your words.

He felt almost ill, his beloved was leaving so abruptly, he didn't know what to say, as he knew he couldn't sway Rhaenyra. Without a thought, he closed the gap between you both, slowly pressing his lips to yours, in a tender kiss. He gripped the fabric of your dress, either in a plea to hold you even closer or to keep you with him even longer. You couldn't help but feel something hard pressing into your thigh, your cheeks were ablaze when you realised what that something was.

You broke the kiss, knowing you didn't have much time left. He must have realised and quickly retrieved something from one of his drawers. It was a small bracelet, decorated in emeralds, the Hightower colour. You couldn't help but smile a little as he slipped it around your wrist. You gave him one last peck before saying the last words you'd say to him for the next six years. "Please write to me, or maybe even visit, I won't forget you, I beg you to do the same, goodbye my prince." "I will my princess, don't doubt it. Goodbye y/n." You left his chambers, not realising his brother was waiting outside his door.

Aegon grabbed your arm tightly and whispered in your ear. "You're leaving? fuck sake, why can't Rhaenyra just send the twats you call brothers away, she really wants to torture me. " You tried wiggling out of his harsh grip, but he wouldn't let go, "You know, I get so fucking hard when you cross my mind, I can't stop thinking about you swollen with my seed, being my little whore and no one el-" Aegon's perverted wishes were quickly diminished as your younger brother called out your name from the entrance of the corridor. Aegon released your arm but said one last thing, "Goodbye my betrothed." You knew that was a sick joke, Aemond had already told you that Aegon and Helena were already betrothed. He just really wanted to fuck with you. You muttered a goodbye with gritted teeth and rushed towards your brother and out of the castle.

Six Years Later:

Your mother and Daemon had decided that it would be best to visit Kings Landing once again, for your ill grandsire and to reaffirm Jace as the heir to the driftwood throne. You wouldn't mind being back at King's landing once again, this time as an 18-year-old woman, you were soon destined to be betrothed to some lord or knight. Another reason would be to see familar faces, such as Helaena, both of you were close. The Velayron girls you missed as well, as they were always sweet to you.

The two men you were dreading to see were Aegon and Aemond. Aegon for the most obvious reasons, he is a fucking pervert. As for Aemond, he in a way broke your heart. He promised to write to you but never acted on that promise, you had written three letters to the prince but he never wrote back. All those years, not one fucking word to you.

At first, you were deeply hurt but you came to understand that you could not let such a foolish thing belittle you as you were to be heir to the iron throne once your mother became Queen, you could not be seen as weak. You begged your mother to let you ride dragon back to the castle but she insisted to take a carriage, to your disappointment. Later that morning you all set off.

When the sight of the familiar castle came into your vision, you became an internal puddle of emotions, relief for finally being back home, happiness for finally being able to reunite with old friends and uneasiness for seeing the boy you loved, a man. Once the carriage abruptly stopped, you all stepped out and you let out a sharp exhale as all the Targaryen decorations that you remembered had been replaced by religious symbols.

Your stepfather made a few comments about Queen Alicent and her father was behind that, humourous but wasn't appropriate. You all were greeted and You, Jace and Luke were allowed to wander the grounds for a while. You found yourself walking near where the duelling practice was taking place and heard the smooth familiar voice belonging to Aemond.

"Nephews, You've come to train?"

You couldn't help but sigh gently when you saw how attractive Aemond had become. His hair was twice as long (more to pull on), and he was more toned and adorned with a black eye patch from the accident between him and your brother. As you walked closer to Aemond and ser Criston, you took in how skilful Aemond had become with a sword.

You joined your brothers and when Aemond saw you for the first time in years he almost forgot what he was even doing. That's how mesmerizing you are to him. Once he managed to make the Knight yield he strode towards you three. Aemond hadn't seen you in six years and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, how your beautiful blonde hair framed your face, how your eyes were just as vibrant as they were and he couldn't help but let his eyes linger over your figure in your black & red dress, how he could get a glimpse of your cleavage as he towered over you.

"My niece, how I have missed you."

His tone was sultry and he gave your hand a quick kiss before giving your brothers a nasty look.

"Jace. Luke. Can you give me and your sister a moment alone?"

They raised their eyebrows but walked away leaving the both of you alone. He sighed before grabbing both of your hands into his.

"My dear y/n, Before you speak, listen to me. I never wanted to break that promise I made to you all those years ago. Alas, my mother had other thoughts, she forbade me from any contact with you."

"But-But why? I never did anything to offend her?"

He knew how you felt, his mother was a confusing bitch. Wanting to place Aegon, a drunk who regularly commits infidelity, as King on the iron throne. Instead, he believed he himself should have a claim to the throne. He was the one who studied history and philosophy. He was the one who trained with a sword. Oh, what he would truly do to be King and have you by his side as his Queen.

"Her reasoning seemed uncouth, as it was since you were the daughter of Rhaenyra and bare no resemblance to Ser Laenor. My mother decided that you would be unfit for me. But I couldn't go one day all those years without a thought of you trickling into my mind. Hm, you're still wearing that?"

You looked down at your wrist and couldn't help it as the blush rose to your cheeks at his words, it was the gift he left you on your last day spent together, he felt an odd sense of pride knowing you still cherished that simple bracelet. He pulled you into a tight embrace with your hands still in his grip. His large arms wrapped around you almost lovingly, and he rested his head upon yours. He murmured into your hair but before you could ask what he had said you both were interrupted by a sharp feminine voice.

"Aemond! come here. We need to talk"

And with that, Aemond sighed before releasing you to follow his cunt of a mother. You turned around to find Daemon smirking at you and laughing as he walked away, and you could tell that today would be interesting, to say the least.

Once the clock struck midday, most of everyone had made their way to the throne room to start their petitions for the heir to drift mark. Your grandsire was too sick to sit on the throne so Otto and Alicent were the ones listening. You followed your family and stood with your younger brothers. Once Vaemond, your technical uncle had proposed he be the heir to the driftwood throne which had made your entire family worry as you all knew that the Hightowers were going to do anything in their power to weaken your family. But you couldn't help but smile when you noticed how Aemond was looking at you from across the room.

When it was finally time for Rhaenyra to speak for your brother and as soon as she started the doors opened to the throne. You all turned and saw your grandfather, struggling to walk down the stairs to his place on the throne. Daemon helped his brother onto the iron throne before letting him speak. The king had reaffirmed your brother's place on the driftwood throne and you were extremely happy for him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him how happy you were for him. You couldn't see how Aemond balled his hands into tight fists of jealousy, he didn't enjoy seeing you touching any other males, nonetheless, the boy who took his eye when they were younger.

After that gruesome turn of events, you were expected to go to a family dinner, your family and the Hightowers together how could that possibly go wrong? That evening you had walked into the dining room, lit up by numerous glowing candles. You noticed how almost everyone had been seated and there was an empty chair beside Aemond. Once you sat down, you saw how he looked at you, abashedly adoringly. He leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"I can't wait for tonight, I have something special planned for you. I know you'll like it."

You shivered as his warm breath trickled down your neck. You both shot back up once you heard Alicent cough loudly. You both noticed how Luke was staring almost disgustedly at the scene in front of him, but Aemond just smirked at him knowingly. In the middle of Alicunt saying grace, you felt a warm hand on your skirts. Your eyes flicked open to meet Aemond's closed ones, he seemed awfully proud of himself. What he wasn't expecting was to feel your hand gently brush against his growing erection. You watched how his breath hitched as his mother finished saying grace. As each family member conversed with one another you were trying not to concentrate on the hand trailing up your inner thigh to your arousal.

"So y/n have you been betrothed yet? I have just never seen you with a suitor yet."

Helaena's words broke you out of your haze, you stumbled around your words.

"Uh, not yet haven't. I feel as if men just are not so attracted to me."

You didn't notice Aemond's slight disappointment at your words, as you knew how much he adored you, inside and out.

"Well I'm sure you'll find someone soon, don't worry marriage isn't so appealing as it seems"

The subtle insult to Aegon made you laugh, a sound Aemond treasured. He truly enjoyed seeing you happy, he also wanted to see the noises of pleasure you'd make, squirming on his cock. He took his middle finger and trailed it over your underwear, just over your wet slit. You let out a quiet mewl but contained yourself quickly as you remembered where you were, you glared at Aemond but found him already looking at you. As food was brought out one plate by one, you took the opportunity to seek a small sliver of revenge. When a servant placed a whole roasted pig in front of the both of you, bad taste in your opinion. You popped open Aemond's pants and slipped your hand inside and into his undergarments to pull out his already leaking cock. You both were concealed by the meal in front of you and the large white tablecloth.

You lazily stroked his cock, every so often you'd spread the pre-cum gathered on his tip, making him grip your thigh hard in desperation. He honestly didn't think you'd do this to him, he only had imagined you doing such things to him in his more...personal fantasies. What he was planning to do under the table would have to wait but he'd repay you back generously. After some looming stares, your grandfather spoke for one last thing before he passed, to have one evening with his family with their grievances put aside. Your mother had commended Alicent on her loyalty to her father and her devotion to her husband and Alicent had returned her graciousness, saying she would make a fine queen. Everyone drank from their cup. You kept your pace while everyone seemed finally happy to be in each other's presence, everyone was smiling and laughing with one another, unknowingly witnessing you jerk off your uncle under the table.

Aemond knew he wasn't going to last long as you were so good for him. He loved how you were pleasuring him, and he honestly loved how no one even noticed the debauched action you both were doing. You stroked him one more time before he let out an extremely loud groan and he came, warm spurts all over your hand. You sighed internally and meet the disturbed faces of your family. They all knew what you had just done to Aemond and how Aemond fully enjoyed it. Without a second thought he put himself away, dragged you out of your chair and out of the room. The entire room was silent until Aegon laughed loudly and congratulated his brother earning multiple stares of disapproval.

You and Aemond ran out out of earshot and leant against the cold wall of a stairwell, breathless. You couldn't help but laugh about the situation you both put yourselves in, rightfully you both just scarred your entire family and knew the lectures you were bound to receive the next day. The first one to speak was Aemond, stumbling around, trying to figure what he would say until what he had spend all day planning popped into his head.

"Thank you my princess. I truly enjoyed that, shall I repay the favor?"

"What are you offering my prince?"

Aemond took your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. He met your soft gaze before leading you up the stairs into his chambers. When he opened the door, you saw a simple (choice of flower) on the edge of the bed next to a small wrapping of parchment paper. You wondered how in all of kings landing how he knew your favourite flower. He guided you towards the bed and sat down, you subconsciously played with the petals of the flower now in your lap. Aemond places the small wrapped into your hand,

"Open it, I know you'll like it."

You took Aemond's words and carefully unwrapped the gift. You couldn't believe it, it was a beautiful ring, gold with small emeralds engraved on the sides.

"My dear y/n, Will you take me? be my Queen?"

You nodded eagerly as you pressed your lips to his.

"Of course my King."

He pulled you into his lap, his hands wrapped around you deliciously. You couldn't help but moan as he slid his tongue into your mouth. He had a tight grip on your skirts, pulling you closer to the hardness in his pants. He broke the kiss to trial small bites over your neck, leaving a purple trail in his wake. He couldn't help himself but grind you down on his lap, trying to get as much friction as he could. You were more than happy to reprociate. He mumbled curses under his breath as he layed you down onto the soft sheets, taking in your debauched beauty. He slowly unzipped your dress, pulling it off completely, leaving you only in a pair of undergarments. He could feel his cock twitch just looking at you, and he was on his knees infront of you, and lazily stroked himself through his trousers, tempting himself.

He quickly made work of his vest and the white shirt underneath. He was about to get rid of his pants but before he could even reach the button, he felt your mouth against his bulge, his hips bucked against you at the warm feeling. He squeezed his eyes shut as you pulled out his cock once again and this time wrapped your mouth around his tip. He moaned in ecstasy at foreign feeling, he couldn't help but thrust into your mouth, trying to chase more. You braced both your hands onto his thighs as you took more of his dick. He absolutely loved you like this; you were so beautiful it hurt. You could tell by his stuttering hips that it wouldn't be long until he came, you gave him one more long lick up his shaft and pulled his weeping cock out of your mouth. You could see the slight disappointment on his face but you reassured him.

"I want you to cum in me."

He groaned when he heard those debauched words leave your pretty mouth. He couldn't wait to ruin you. You laid back down, and he laid himself above you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He slowly rubbed the tip of his cock languidly over your glistening slit, teasingly.

You whimpered, already too stimulated for his teasing, "please"

"Please what? You need to use your words."

"Please. I need you to fuck me."

Without a second thought, he slowly pushed his hips forward, entering you, you let out a gasp at the feeling of absolute fullness. Aemond let out a shaky breath, finally getting to feel you after longing for you for years. Aemond begun to thrust his hips quickly, You arched your back, as lewd sounds erupted from your mouth and cunt as the pleasure increased.

Groans escaped Aemond as he could feel your cunt squeezing him so tight, his platinum locks framed your face as he continued his ministrations. You could feel the tip of his cock bumping your cervix with every thrust, he tantalizingly dragged his cock out and in, pressing deeper and Aemond let one of his hands wander to your clit, fumbling the bundle of nerves in delicate circles

Aemond ducked his head between your tits, licking the mounds and swirling around your bouncing nipples. They grew more sensitive. He pinched one nipple and took the other in his toothy mouth, nibbling and sucking at your flesh.

"Oh fuck Aem, I think I'm going to cum."

Aemond practically whimpered against you, a beautiful sound, he broke away from your chest,

"Cum on my cock, my Queen."

The combination of the abuse on your pussy and tits, that tight coil in your stomach finally fucking snapped and you gushed, all over Aemond's cock and naval. It didn't take a minute more for Aemond to fill you up with his seed, you felt the warm spurts of his cum inside you and couldn't describe the feeling you felt, was it adoration? Was it love? you couldn't tell as he slipped out of you, leaving your pussy clenching at nothing and he laid beside you. You rested your head on his chest and gazed up into his eye, he whispered lovingly;

"I cannot wait until we are married on Dragonstone and you swell with our children."

You let yourself fall asleep unaware of the arguments that you and Aemond will deal with in the morrow.

The end

This was a draft from last year but since Hotd season 2 will be released I knew I NEEDED to post this. Hope y'all like it.

#house of the dragon #i am down bad #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra my beloved #hotd #aemond one eye #daemon targeryan #hotd season 2

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darlingofvalyria · 1 year ago

Text

❝Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine. Dragons take.❞

[ Betrayal clouds your judgement, for when Jacaerys' indiscretion takes the form of a child, your anger lands in the palm of the Rogue Prince. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,412 ] | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Manipulative Aunt!Reader | this set in an au inside of in hightower green. | this is able to be read as a oneshot.

contains— canon divergence to the second power - an au of an au - targcest, use of 'bastard', infidelity, profanity, revenge, violence, pureblood Valyrian bullshit - thinking about death as a revenge but no suicide/suicidal ideation- angst, smut - two wrongs apparently make a right - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - nsfw: rough sex, biting, degradation, breeding kink, smidge dacryphilia, creampie - no kinslayers, no kings, no betas.

a/n— special thanks to @ahristata and @hiraethrhapsody for kicking my pursuit of this thread!! i woke up (almost literally) to this line of inquiry, & though writing for daemon is difficult, i had a way, way too much fun with this one m'fraid. Ihad so much fun I started laughing at the absurdity. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You can't breathe.

You stand there, your daughters by your sides, no more than five or so name days, dutiful as ever, the princess of the realm— the heir's wife, blindsided. Betrayed. Lied to. And you can't show them your grief, your anger, your shock— you smile, not betrayed, not realised, stupid.

Your act of stupidity protects you, for you can just tell that others, sharp-eyed as they are owning of sharper tongues, calculate the similarities between your husband and the child he is cooing at, at the arms of the Warden of the North's sister.

His bastard fucking sister.

You can't blink away as the facts, the threads, make a beautiful web in front of you. The conclusion is unmistakable. Jacaerys' consistent travels to the North, despite the campaigning for his mother's seat had not required the frequent stretches of long travels. How Aemond had remarked that the bastard is doing twice as much work in doing so, "as he should," Aemond murmurs darkly. "He casts a disgusting shadow on the Iron Throne, 'tis the least he can do."

The insistent of personally greeting the delegates from the North, you thinking it is just his wondrously formed friendship with the Lord Stark, had you dressing up and bringing your girls with him. So that your daughters can meet their father's fucking friend, one that occupied his time when he could have been at home, tending to his duties, his heirs.

And the woman who follows after the Wolf, the bastard Snow, his beloved sister. Dyanna had told you beforehand, as Lord Stark adores his only sibling. Their parenthood is unmistakable, dark hair and sharp chins. A Northern Beauty.

And then you stop, as there is a babe in her arms, no more than two name days at least.

And you see Jacaerys in his gaze.

His beautiful, warm brown eyes in the child in her arms, and as he stands there, your Prince of the Realm, too close for comfort, too close for platonic friendship, a familiarity one cannot deny— and that fucking, sweet-edged, tender smile on his face...

The same one he wore when you had given birth to his daughters. Soiled sheets, bloodied babes— it didn't matter. He held them to his arms with the very same smile, thanking you for birthing his babes.

A gut punch, a sharp inhale, an anger that coils and burns and roars.

Your bastard of a husband had fucked another bastard, and made himself a bastard little fucking family.

Life can ever be so cruel as it is humorous.

Daemon could have laughed at the prediction you found yourself in.

He sits to the left of his wife, the Queen who— in enough of itself, the evidence of the turmoil the court is about to get under, amusingly is talking quick with her Lord Hand; Corlys and Rhaenyra had not stopped pointedly looking at her heir, words too fast but unmistakable what the topic is if their gestures, the knot between their eyebrows, and unmistakable sighs and determined noises.

He, on the other hand, is pointedly staring at you.

You, who tries so hard to piece together an armour of stupidity, an air of nonchalance. As if there is no anger in your visage at your husband's attention completely stolen by Wolf's little sister and her son... who looked completely like him. Dark colouring, the First Men blood thick in his nose, his hair, at the curled edges of his baby-cheeked giggles.

When standing so close, faces to each other, there can be no doubt a mirror.

Or the lovesick smile on the mother's face, watching the Prince of the Realm interact with her son.

Together, the trio of them don't hint as much as a bead of Targaryen blood. One is able to pretend they are nothing more than a small... brown haired family.

Daemon presses his lips, trying desperately not to laugh so loudly.

He admired the boy, truly. Rhaenyra loved each child from her bosom with equal fervor, and Daemon was prepared take him as purely one of his own... but after he broke the betrothal with his daughter (though Baela could give lesser of a shit, though mildly dissatisfied as she was to become Queen, and the girl held her duties between canines) to marry a Hightower cunt... he had distanced himself from the boy.

Daemon viewed it as a sign of weakness, for he knew you. You were just like your mother, prodding into softened parts of his family— that green whore with his brother, young as she had been, his good sister Aemma had not been cold in their memories before she had found herself weightily pregnant with new heirs, and then Jacaerys, new to womanly spells, new to cunt, and you had him making vows in the ways of the dragonlords.

Though he can surmise that much of your mother's movements had not entirely been her own... Daemon knew that calculative look you got in your eye. Blink and it's gone, but your gaze sharpens, your mouth curls in a winning, prideful little smirk.

You were Otto Hightower's granddaughter alright, and you had wanted the Heir's Heir.

But now, it seems like, once a vow broken, it didn't really matter if it was a betrothal or a marriage to Jacaerys.

It brings a sick pull of satisfaction in him, that tugs him to look at you. Every time.

You laugh, tither, still evermore the gem of the feast— a feast you organised with the Lord Hand for your husband's absolutely exceptional diplomatic achievements in the North, truly, Daemon is laughing in the sidelines as the jests and songs make themselves — but Daemon is overtly familiar with dragons. And anger. And you simply stink of it. The way your eye twitches, the occasional grind of your jaw to how your fingers dig crescent moons into your palm. He catches blood in one blink then smeared, then gone, in another.

Your hold onto your armour— the Darling of the Realm, curated so painfully by a young, sly girl moving about the cesspit they call a crown's court — is breaking in pieces and tatters at each hour the feast went on.

It snarls. Like a dragon locked in the pits, tugging at reins, wishing to burn cities.

Maybe you aren't just another Hightower cunt after all.

Not purely at least, he thinks in distaste, staring at the dark green of your gown.

It is a childish tantrum, more than anything, for what is your Hightower green will do now? A bastard has been made, worse, a son. And though Jacaerys himself has muddied blood, he is still a Targaryen. His mother is Queen, prepared to make him an Heir to the Iron Throne as he had been legitimised as Laenor's son. A Velaryon. He bears the name, the crest, and the support of its house.

What is stopping him from marrying the Snow Bastard, legitimising the boy as his own, surpassing your own daughters?

Targaryens marry siblings, they also marry multiple wives.

It is a thought that he can see it dancing in your head— raw, enticing rage and bloodlust that tightens his breeches.

It is an interesting thing.

The green is disgusting, but Daemon can appreciate a young, fertile, Valyrian beauty.

Something your mother had ingeniously provided you and your siblings with, reining in her muddied blood to produce unmistakable Valyrian children. And as a smart little tart, you understood what to do with it.

When Daemon first met you, you were just one of the Hightower spawns that his brother had made to further his line. His brother's daughters—apart from Rhaenyra — were quiet things as babes and children. Odd the two of you were, but not really hostile. When you were introduced to him, your fat babe of a twin brother was teary-eyed and clinging to you, a quiet child with round eyes, staring at him inquisitively, as if challenging.

Then and there, Daemon disliked you so.

Even as you grew, the little of what he could see as he paid no mind of Viserys' other children, you grew up a fine royal, a princess of every word and sung note. Mentions of your progressive fight for the small folk, your charitable heart, your sweet nature that even his brother had made a note once or twice—

He thought it had been Otto Hightower who put you up to such machinations. Wouldn't be below him.

The night you bedded Jacaerys Velaryon, he was pleasantly surprised to find out it had been you all along.

And now here you are, betrayed as you had betrayed his daughter, delicious in your righteous anger and ripe (two babes before the year ended, Jace is an inglorious fool) for the taking. And youthful still. Smooth, soft skin, pretty lips and bright-eyed.

All your scheming, going as far as throwing your grandsire to Oldtown, it is obvious no one has wrangled the clever, spoiled little brat out of you.

As he sips his wine, amused and pleasantly hungry, he muses he might do a job or two of being the strong arm to do so.

He snorts, eyes straying back to the little First Men family.

There it is again. The jest that keeps on giving.

It was pride, truly, that kept you for most of the feast. That kept your gritted teeth to yourself, ducking into corners whenever your anger burned at your eyelids, stubbornly brushing stray tears away.

All is not lost, you stubbornly thought. You just had to plot.

But when Jace had taken your daughters, your Daenera and Aemma, gently tugging them to his bastard whore and his actual bastard to meet— finding your eyes, at that very moment as Daenera's precious, pureblooded hand shyly took the hand of her bastard brother, a fool's tender fucking simpleton of a smile on your husband's face —

Something in your head had snapped. A clean break.

And your armour had fallen. Like limestone from a fortress. Caved in ruins at the pool of your feet. Dark, furious loathe unfurled in your chest. Unable to handle it anymore, you had taken your dress and got out of the feast, for you could feel the urge of unsheathing a sword and going on a bloodied massacre, crowns and titles be damned.

You may not have a dragon, but you have its bloodlust.

Just as you are rushing to your chambers, you stop and make a different turn, knowing that if your husband had caught wind of such an ugly expression on your face, he would try and find you, talk to you, and you don't have the patience to cater to him at the moment— you find what you know of is an empty chamber, reserved for guests at the Keep.

It is a simple room with all the usual accruements. Most of the fanfare, the sheets, are in storage.

You start with a candelabra.

Raise it high before you are violently smashing it against the dresser, shrieks and guttural screams out of your mouth as you tear through the room like a typhoon, cursing Jacaerys, the North, and bastards to the Seven Hells.

None will be the wiser, for you had built your network well. Your spiders will pivot guards and strangers from this area, ensuring you a reprieve where your anger and grief can unfurl and manifest.

So you lose yourself, a dragon untethered. You get so into your rage, quiet in your thoughts, that you don't hear an intruder entering until there is a low, amused laugh too close for comfort.

You whirl around, tear-stained and rage-filled, and though the Rogue Prince expects you to fall into stutters, your eyes slit and you grip— when had you picked up a tome? — the tome tighter to your chest, snarling, "Get out."

Instead of surprise, or even offense, Daemon laughs as if you are the most amusing thing to him all night. Jesters and whores alike.

"I shall not." He makes a noncommittal hum around the dark room. "I rather like it here. It seems this chamber holds a much better entertainment than anything beheld at the feast."

You let out a dark, incredulous laughter. "I have no time for your toying, uncle, get out!" You toss the tome with fervour, but he's a warrior and he anticipates your anger, sidestepping easily before he's back to casual prowling.

"I do not have time to play jester for your entertainment," you hiss, unable to stop the hateful tears from spilling, brushing them away harshly as you watch him watch you.

He raises an eyebrow. "I am not asking you to."

"Are you here then for my humiliation? Press a bitter wound while it's still bleeding, is that it? Is that what would make the glory of your night?"

He snorts. "What would make the glory of my night is a warm body and a tight cunt."

Your face scrunches. "You are disgusting."

He barks out a laugh. "Not as disgusting as your brother."

"Aegon is no longer—"

"— or as stupidly naive as your husband."

A sharp intake of breath before you're once more cracking in broken rage and ghastly pain.

"Of course you would notice, who would not, he looks so much like his fucking bastard."

"Watch yourself, girl," he barks. "You are still talking about the Queen's heir."

A beautiful guard dog, you think, you snort. You push past him, gasping into the crisp, cool air, holding onto the balcony for dear life.

"His already diluted blood makes this conversation entirely hilarious to me I'm afraid." You look down and wonder how fast you will fall. How messy would such a death be? How much care there is left in your wake? Will your husband even care, now that he has his heir? Borne out of true love no doubt, despite such bastardly blood— or is that what makes it thrilling for them?

Mangled bone, spread thin blood— if you die such a way, it should be pretty. You hope it haunts the Keep of so many before you.

But if you die now, you will be replaced so easily. So prettily.

And your daughters—who will care for them? Will Jacaerys even care, if his bastards soon no doubt fill your once home, your mother, your brothers— your daughters pushed aside to make way for fucking dogs.

There is no satisfaction in such a plan.

There are many others.

The Rogue Prince makes his presence known by standing close to your back, close enough that you can smell him, that his heat is your own, as he hums, peering below as you have.

"Have you been drinking, zaldrītsos little dragon?" he whispers, tangling his fingers through your hair, running a lone finger down your neck, up and down in a tantalising movement. You can't help it, it feels comforting, leaning close to it despite such a breathy huff out of your lips.

"Since when am I dragon, kepus uncle? Haven't you always likened us muddied blood, filthier than dragonseeds?"

"I see that I am wrong," he says, almost idle as if he isn't devouring you in his gaze. How you feel soft, pliant under one finger after weighted in wine and the ruins of your anger, how you're almost purring and sweet like this, your fire alive but consistent. "Aōha perzys burns jehikagrī. Nyke hae ziry. Your flames burn bright. I like it."

"Hm. You've had sons, don't you uncle?"

"I have," he replies, amused.

"And many a children." You reach for his chin, your thumb rubbing his bottom lip. He's old, sure, but men don't have the same bodily issues as women. You know he could reach your father's age and be able to produce five more brats.

But his shoulders are strong, spry only as a swordsman can be.

And he isn't like he's loyal to Nyra, turning fully to you with a hand caressing your side.

His hand comes for your neck, halting your movement as he tests a squeeze. There is only much hatred as there is lust. And his cock is winning over his mind, for when your free hand, watching him intently, reaches for the hardness straining against his breeches, giving it a stroke, his breath stutters into a groan whilst his hips push into your hand.

"Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine," he hums darkly. "Dragons take, or do you have too much of your Hightower cunt of a mother that you—"

You curl your hand over his cock until his breath hitches.

"I want a son. Surely you'd rather want for your true blood to sit on the Iron Throne? Your wife would remain Queen, her and her heir none the wiser. Any son of mine would be King regardless." Your voice is barely above whisper, stroking him as your squirm in his hold, his breath heavy by each promise, each tale you spin so tall. "Wouldn't you like that better? I am a Targaryen, as are you. Our blood would be pure."

"I have pureblooded sons, riñītsos little girl."

"But will they be king? With my husband as your wife's heir?" When his hold softens on your throat, you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him. "Wouldn't you want your family's legacy, your legacy, unsullied with prettier blood?

"I want a son, uncle," you whimper, thickened with need and desire, willing him to bend and fold because men like Daemon are easy, because a loving marriage is one thing, a man who holds his house as his pride in another fist is another. "I want your seed to take root in me."

And it isn't like you're asking him to betray his Queen.

Daemon is surprisingly a soft lover, prone in a way to worshipping you even as you had gotten impatient and tried to get your way. His punishments are quick and precise, a hit on your thigh, a tighter squeeze in your throat, a firm bite in your breast enough to draw blood. He's soft but by choice, almost as if he is amusing you in each caress while one hand is holding you by your hair, fucking you down into the sheets.

His words aren't better, spun in hisses and spits, mocking laughter and groans.

"Do you want my seed, you little whore?"

"What would your husband say now, his pretty wife mewling for another? Or would he even care?"

"Your tears are pretty, if you want my seed, I think you need to be sobbing, hm?"

When he finally spills inside of you with nothing less of a broken, guttural roar, hips chasing the high, meeting your sensitivity once, twice, again— you are shattered in pieces and contradictions, floating and wide awake, pleasured and in pain.

He slaps your face gently after he's cleaned himself up, tucked his flaccid cock back in his breeches as he comes to your eye line. "Come to me again when you want my seed, hm? I shall prioritise your wants for the good of the realm but I dare say—"

He cocks his head with a smirk, feeling stirrings at the sight of your fucked out state, his seed spilling from your pretty hole that he can't help himself as he chases it with a finger, forcefully pushing it back in while your body trembles and twitches.

"— you may be with child soon enough, niece. I shall congratulate you and my son with the happy news."

Your eyes flutter close at the echoes of his disappearing footsteps.

Nine moons later, through a hearty, blood-soaked birth that rocked the keep with your wails of pure pain— much more painful than when your girls had come into the world — a baby boy is born of pure Valyrian colouring.

A fat babe who cried murder in his first seconds of life, and it is Caraxes who snarls and screeches into the high noon sky.

"I shall name him Daemon," you say to your husband beside you as you beheld the babe with a wondrous smile and a full heart.

"After your brother and my father," Jace says, smiling. "That is wonderful, my wife. He does look much like them."

Your smile curls, a finger rubbing your babe's fat cheek. "He does. And he will be strong swordsman." Your lashes flutter to Jace, poisoned vowels in each word that he blinks, startled. "Just like his father."

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lxmelle · 8 months ago

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The man surrounded by the theme of love…

Geto.

Gege has made several writing choices to depict Geto as someone who was handsome and loved - arguably more than any other character in the series. Maybe Gege loves him the most - not complaining at all.

More under the cut - just a few visuals I’ve collected to demonstrate this. I’m certainly not alone in noticing it and there may be others who show this much better, lol. Tag me in if you want to share!!

My post does end with a not-so brief analysis which you can skip if you wish.

Geto, despite being cursed at birth with the technique to absorb the ills of the world, the very skill that led him to fight alongside Gojo as part of the Strongest Duo - by design, each others’ counterpart in so many ways - a twist of fate led them onto opposite paths, leading to complete imbalance, one that drove him into madness.

If Geto in some ways represented Love, it is truly the most twisted curse of all which played a part in his death.

Geto witnessed the most love confessions in the whole series - I found (and stole) it off twitter/now X:

The Japanese originals seem more compelling to me:

Riko says “daisuki” whereas Yuta uses a more traditional “Aishiteru” which, is quite embarrassing of a confession, and therefore almost hints at what could be Gojo’s last words to Geto, if it directly parallels Yuta & Rika’s relationship. And that expression Geto wears when he sees Riko and Kuroi struggle with separating?

That does not look like a person who cannot sympathise and empathise with people. Geto was a person who cared too much, and in search for a way to protect those he cared for, needed an outlet and something (in this case, lesser being, the humans) to blame. He descended into a mania and much like shinobu sensui from yu yu hakusho, seemed to develop some kind of mental disorder due to being unable to carry the conflicting ideals together. The dissonance the world presented to him was just too cruel, and he himself became a weapon to defend his ideals.

Before his defection, Geto was liked by his peers:

Haibara

Mei Mei

Loved by his family for and despite his ideals:

Mimiko and Nanako

Shibuya crew liked/loved him and carried his will/beliefs even after his death, in their own ways, as family:

Miguel and Larue in the most recent chapter to date:

Translations (rough):

Larue: You and me alike, we just wanted Suguru-chan to be King.

Miguel: Yea, I followed just because it was Geto. After shibuya, I trained Okkotsu and I don’t want anything to do with the country anymore. (Something along these lines; a little too complicated for my rudimentary Japanese)

Larue: You , me, Mimiko, Nanako, Manami, Toshihisa, everyone just really liked/loved Suguru-chan.

Canonically, he was known to be handsome and popular:

Takaba

Gege’s character book:

JJK popularity poll:

I do not have screengrabs of how Manami and Larue joined, but it was said to be due to how handsome they thought he was.

Maybe he was like Rika, who did realise how she came across in her life, and manipulated people, lol. But that’s a bit of a stretch to bring that parallel/similarity in. Geto was just quite a magnetic person, according to Gege.

And in the most roundabout way:

Gojo:

“my one and only”

“Love is the most twisted curse...” “curse me a little at the end.”

“I don’t need love to satisfy me” ... “if you were there I might’ve have been satisfied”

While love surrounds Geto, the theme that follows Gojo appears to be “the strongest” cursed; he was admired, revered, feared, and disliked by many. It truly breaks my heart, to think of what he had to give up to carry the weight of this for his whole life, until the very end.

This looks like the most dizzyingly lonely picture of Gojo. It was indeed ironic to have it all but to embody what it means to have an unlimited void by being totally different.

He suffered so much for his power and to have carried this strength. The sorcerer world was practically on his shoulders. The balance was up to him; everyone relied on him. Every time he tried to protect his love (geto) it seemed to fail. It worsened each time, ending with his own demise. But of course that’s just a dramatic interpretation - I don’t really mean/believe that, but it is one way to see the tragedy between Gojo and Geto. Strength at the expense of love; it plays out with the strongest this far as those identifying with this title are plagued by loneliness and do not know love.

They met before things got twisted within themselves, between them. Even after Geto left, Gojo seemed to be looking and waiting for him - to prove his trust for him almost as if he saw through his illusions and lies. Geto was the shadow (Yin) and Gojo was the light (Yang). Only the light can see through the dark. I’ll leave the gojo characterisation for another time / to other better writers.

For now, I’ll just say that I felt that he had planned for the possibility of losing to Sukuna (with the various things we see him do between scheduling the 24th and the actual day) and if he won, he’d just carry on the plan to cremate Geto on top of saving everyone and being a good example as the strongest. Worst case scenario, he would weaken Sukuna and I guess just die on the same day as Geto - idk, maybe as a form of redemption for one of his most painful experiences in life. Who knows?

I headcanon he was relieved to pass on, doing his part to defend the world that relied on him so much, with a big bang - a really fun fight.

And I’m glad they found each other at the end - the loved and the lost.

Back to Geto:

We don’t get much insight into what Geto wanted or felt aside from a world that was better for sorcerers, those he cared about. Even at the afterlife scene, or in subsequent chapters, we only hear from others rather than Geto.

Call me biased and delusional; I believe he didn’t kill the innocent despite saying he hated them all. He loved and hurt so strongly that he hated with almost equal force. He did want to force evolution and eventually extinguish all human kind, to him: the ignorant source of suffering, but I’m glad he didn’t manage to get Rika. I headcanon that he was aware he was losing himself by defying his own principles (to kill sorcerers) for his own gain. That, and Rika with a binding vow for a life, no less, was just too powerful.

In the official character book, Geto was described as someone who told himself that he hated humans a lot, like a reminder. He didn’t kill people indiscriminately. I’m sure he was well aware of how evil he had become but he had chosen, hadn’t he? He expressed to Yuta, that self-affirmation was incredibly important in his view. And the more he interacted with the students, I think the more his humanity fought back - I mean, he was standing there crying from being so moved by what he saw. He also let Yuta heal his friends. How villainous? Or how incredibly loving in spite of himself?

Geto has been shown to lie to others too: jjk 0: described having lied to the school about the conditions for obtaining a cursed spirit, and after defecting: upon taking stage for the first time, stating that the looking the part (wearing gojokesa) was important (ie lying). At his death’s door, he also prefaces with, no matter what anyone says - why would there be a need for that if he wasn’t telling a half-truth? He sought to avenge Riko (first person at the cult he killed after calling him onto the stage + cue mic throw) and the village represented a bunch of people who he slaughtered out of rage and ignorance. I’m definitely not defending him here - his actions are reprehensible. My headcanon view is that he didn’t know how to live with himself after snapping and that was the only path laid before him, which he ardently committed to.

I just think that he held onto a form of love/humanity still- Gojo and Geto both did. Without it, Geto would’ve become the Queen of curses due to Rika (uncaring about his family, or killing young sorcerors despite witnessing the students’ bond and yuta’s selfless power of love in jjk0) and Gojo may have focused on training at all cost without embracing Geto’s principles and becoming a teacher to change the jujutsu world - he could’ve become the next Sukuna and take the title of the King of curses instead - crowning them both King and Queen - instead of both the King and Queen contributing to their deaths. Anyway, I digress...

Geto appears very mother-coded in his protective and defensive relations to the girls, but also to Riko, Kuroi, and Gojo - especially after Toji had killed them. He was so fiercely trying to avenge and defend them, but failing that had a huge effect on him. Moreover, Haibara - innocent, glowingly positive - suffered an undeserved death. It weighed so heavily on Geto, that he didn’t defend Gojo when Nanami vented about leaving things to Gojo who seemed to take it all in his stride, almost insinuating that Geto, too, had little autonomy but to carry on that cycle of curse consumption he began to loathe.

Yuki also underlined the meaninglessness of the death / sacrifice / relationship rupture / suffering. And like the novel implies: Geto was too sincere for this world. He just loved too deeply and wounds cut him too painfully. At just 17... what inner resources were they forced to develop?

He was disillusioned by the system, but respected that Gojo had a place there. This is also SatoSugu indulgent: He never once attempted to talk Gojo into joining him, despite it being the most logical choice, but Geto was the emotional and loving kind - he prioritised Gojo over his ideals / himself. This man was willing to die trying to pursue his ideals, but didn’t want to try convincing his friend even if he know it might fail. What does that say about him? I think it says he loved Gojo. And Gojo loved him.

He masked like Gojo did : the infamous “yeah I’d win” and Geto’s “I’ve made my choice” and his face fell as he had his back turned, stating that he just needed to do it to the best of his ability. This may be headcanon but it does seem plausible to me. He was under no illusions about what he had done. To love was to turn away too. To love was to let the other go. Sigh.

Backtracking a bit: When Geto encountered the twin girls, who knows what entered his mind, but there was something that emerged from being horrified, enraged, and it gave birth to new meaning. He would take control and save them - from humans and the institution that made child sorcerors die. According to Gege, he became Papa Geto. (Kenjaku is also mum-coded but the antithesis of motherly love, with the womb protrusion domain and actually bearing children.)

This is of course not limited to feminine energy, as parents, both male and female, have protective instincts. But I’m not here to go into that discourse. Just stereotypically, and loosely speaking, Geto is very Yin energy. He is a big Mama Bear. With extreme maternal aggression. We see female counterparts do this in the wild more than males. And yes, of course both male and female are protective. Both geto and gojo were protective in their own unique ways. That’s for another post. Geto would rather die than have anyone come save him. In fact, the scripture behind him in the temple goes somewhere along the lines of “death to the weak”. If he had failed, he deserved to die. His family should live.

Gojo cares for others differently. And yes we know he died whilst defending others too. He is inherently more individualistic due to what he is with his gifts and noble heritage. He is less emotional and more cerebral, the only time we saw him lose his composure was due to Geto.

He allows his students to take risks and would allow them to fight in his stead, like in jjk 0 where Toge and panda were sent to be defeated by Geto. Tough love, as Gojo admits. This is also very Dad-like in the modern sense of the word.

In my subjective experiencing of the world, it’s almost like a husband who is only really emotionally vulnerable with his wife, and is otherwise the successful businessman, dad, and whatever else he is. Geto is much like a mum that he would walk away from her husband (lol, Gojo in this case) in order to protect them in a way she deems is best. Maybe I’m a little nuts, I don’t know. (Actually I am a little eccentric, but that’s by the by).

Now this is totally just satosugu indulgent: I headcanon that Gojo also “protected” / was possessive of Geto by making a deal with Miguel since the latter said he would curse Geto if he died, lol. Especially in light of the latest chapter where Miguel said he was spared by Gojo. (And i reckon Gojo was respectful of Miguel being Geto’s family, so he spared him for that reason too). I mean, Gojo had to kill his best friend, but this was his burden to bear, you know? It’s almost sickeningly intimate to allow someone to end your suffering, and be entrusted with that too. Ugh, ouch, my heart…..

Edit: I’m reminded of that scene where Shoko reflects on loving neither of them, like Gojo, Geto didn’t want anyone to be alone anymore either. Geto said he didn’t feel happy from the bottom of his heart. Gojo felt lonely (although he said it got better at the airport scene). They weren’t alone, but probably felt it… because of the absence of their true/first love? Larue stating in the panels above that Geto wouldn’t wish for them to fight seems like a nod to what Geto believed happened between him and Gojo. Gojo raised allies - be strong, don’t be left behind. Geto a family - get along, don’t fight. Just pointing out what my take is on the parallels I’ve observed.

That ends the brief analysis portion of what I wished to convey about what appears to surround Geto. He may not have been depicted much in the series, but his presence has been felt through the eyes of many. It made me wonder why did Gege do this?

This author deliberately wrote multiple people in the verse to love and follow him (and spare him a death sentence for 10 years) despite not agreeing to his ideals.

Perhaps it isn’t Gege’s focus, understandably, to give us a lot more insight from Geto’s pov, but there is certainly some kind of narrative he is pushing to depict how this man, cruel yet kind, is somehow one of the few he seems to portray in this way more than others within the sorcerer world at the very least. That his life was somehow a tragedy that he might not have really known the love at all? I wonder what Gojo’s last words were to incite such a heartfelt reaction - well done? Welcome home? You did well? I love you? My one and only best friend? Sigh, I guess it’s a secret between them.

There are others who have written metas on Gojo and maternal energy. If I find it I’ll link it! Otherwise, search through my reblogs! So many fantastic writers and thinkers out there!

Thanks for reading if you made it this far!

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fryingpan1234567 · 1 month ago

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so what if the Bats were Spiders instead?

in a different universe, Bruce Wayne grew up with arachnophobia instead of chiroptophobia. he found secret experiments in a lab beneath their family estate, and it didn’t take him long to pick up the family business.

neurotoxin experiments. spiders.

in a different universe, Bruce Wayne became Spider-Man.

in a different universe, Dick Grayson didn’t need to be bitten by a spider to pick up the Spider-Man mantle. he grew up knowing how to do all the acrobatics and combat anyways— all B had to do was give him web shooters and a suit. but there couldn’t be two Spider-Man’s. so he became Nightwing. but with a blue spider on his chest instead of a bird!

Nightwing’s webs come from his escrima sticks. they’re packing some serious voltage, so sometimes in a pinch he’ll use them instead of his police-issued taser. his favorite part about the whole spider thing is that he can fully just… throw himself off of buildings. and not die. he’s an adrenaline junkie, what can he say?

in a different universe, Jason Todd did everything the same. tried to steal the wheels off the vehicle of the most famous vigilante in Gotham. B picked him up and let him choose the spider and gave him the power to do good.

Robin “giving him magic” didn’t stop the Green Goblin from caving in his skull. although spiders you thought you’d killed do have a way of disappearing.

and returning. in a different universe, the Red Hood took the black widow as his mascot and nobody could do anything in Gotham City without him knowing about it. he single-handedly put down all the arms dealers in the city.

in a different universe, Tim Drake made his own spider. he’d been a fan of Thomas and Bruce Wayne’s work for his whole life, or at least since he learned how to read— and he figured he could get Spider-Man’s attention if he was able to replicate the project as young as he did.

oh, he got Spidey’s attention all right. befriending and adopting an alien symbiote will do that. player 4 has joined the game.

in a different universe, Venom is co-piloted by Tim, who really does like aliens. B thinks it’s a tiny bit weird, but while Tim is tiny his alien companion is very much not. it’s extra armor.

Tim works at the Daily Bugle. nobody knows how exactly he gets the quality kind of photos he does of Gotham’s Spider-family situation, but who’s complaining? he’s just really good at his job.

in a different universe, Cassandra Cain was bitten by a spider before she even met Bruce Wayne. her mother had trained her for combat for her whole life. she couldn’t prepare her for superpowers.

B was happy to help. in a different universe, rather than Cass becoming Blackbat, she took on the alias Black Widow. watch your back for her, though. she’s got the same deadly instinct in every universe.

in a different universe, Stephanie Brown became the first Spider-Woman. of course, she wasn’t the only one, but there’s something about being the original, isn’t there?

she knows she’s funny. she thinks it’s part of the job; it feels right. she’s the closest to the average canon Spider-Man. she could’ve been recruited to the Society at any point in time. and there’s something about that too.

in a different universe, Damian Wayne was born with superpowers. he’d inherited Bruce’s from birth. Talia was quick to hand him off once she realized her baby could crawl on walls and ceilings. the Spider Cave was getting a bit crowded, but what’s one more dangerous, unpredictable, biologically enhanced child? bring it on.

aside from Hood, Tarantula is the only Spider willing to kill a man on the field. yeah, as in. bird-eating tarantula. Robin. get it?

of course, in a different universe, he still had his katana. wouldn’t be Damian Wayne without it. his favorite thing is to swing down from a skyscraper with his webs and run through bad guys like kebabs. B says it’s immoral, but who can be mad about stabbing Doc Ock’s goons?

in another universe, Duke Thomas is the most famous member of the family. he’s the other closest to canon Spider-Man. he takes the day jobs, he talks to the press, he’s the least-hated at the Daily Bugle.

his webs glow. that makes night ops harder. so he sticks to the sunlight. people started calling him the Spider-Signal. which doesn’t make a lot of sense? but Duke is the kinda guy to just kinda shrug it off, because he’s not gonna take on the entire city’s press on his own.

Miguel O’Hara stayed the bleeding hell away from this universe. this group of bats spiders were too unpredictable to have in the Spider Society at all. there were no missions there, but constant surveillance. (until. you know. Miles Morales rocked up with a proposition to take down a tyrannical system with horrible judgement and a corrupted leader. and then Miguel couldn’t ignore the Wayne family anymore.)

how I love the multiverse. endless possibilities, amirite?

(please ask me to write more for this au. drabbles. more characters. PLEASE)

#dc #dc spiderverse au #batfam #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #cassandra cain #blackbat #stephanie brown #spoiler #damian wayne #robin #duke thomas #signal

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dcxdpdabbles · 6 months ago

Note

Are you going to make another part for the Angel and Demon Brat? If you do, please have them fumbling and Damian + Danny taking full advantage. Also, could you do something about Cujo please? I don’t think Danny would move without him

Danny will admit that he is having a little too much fun with his birth father's family. But could one blame him? They made it all too easy. Also, he was starting to see why Damian had been a bit hesitant to tell them about him.

It was not that they threatened him in any way, but he could see how hard it was for them to have a normal relationship with anyone. Just his small forms of affection made a lot of the Waynes' skin crawl.

They still gave in regardless. Danny worries it's the most hugs any of them have gotten in years. It couldn't be mentally healthy. Or could it? Some people didn't like to be touched, and that was fair.

He did have to play a careful balance.

He knew that if the League of Assians found out about Damian caring for him, Danny would go from being a Lost sibling to a Dead sibling. The Waynes on the other hand were under the impression that denying him anything would cause Time to erease him- not that Clockwork would dare. Who would try his spicy salsas then?- so they were much more careful in how they handled him.

Tim was his favorite. Danny could tell the other boy really liked being acknowledged, and unlike Dick, who thrived on being the center of attention, Tim struggled to let people know.

So Danny had small ways to give him what he desperately craved and had a little fun with it.

He carefully knocks on the boy's door room, clutching his pillow and blanket. There was a small pause where he could hear Tim scruffling around, likely trying to hide the coffee maker under his bed. Danny didn't have the heart to tell him the whole mansion but Alfred and Bruce knew about his bedroom coffee maker.

Maybe he should hint about it tomorrow at breakfast? Watch Tim sweat?

He shifts his face into an innocent expression when Tim opens the door. The other squints at him, likely catching his more mischievous expression but unwilling - or unable- to call him out on it.

"Angel Brat?" Tim says weary. The nickname rolls off his tongue so easily that one would think Tim has always called him that. Danny applauds his acting ability.

"Hi, Tim! I'm here for our bi-weekly ritual," he chirps, pushing the confused teen aside to step in. He gently rolls his heart pump behind him, mindful of the wires. It's on top of his gas tank, which he chose to wear so he could breathe some clear ectoplasm.

Gotham's ectoplasm was polluted with negative emotions, and it was giving him a headache.

None of the machines was actually doing anything—his heart rate will never be regulated due to his powers—but it was the perfect excuse for why Danny wasn't seen that often in public.

Barbara had gone back into Gotham gossip rags, publishing fake articles and small rumors on the internet that dated to the first day Damian arrived. This gave him some proof of existing before, but with the "timeline reset," it would make sense why no one could recall Danny.

As far as the Gotham citizens were concerned, Danny was an unproven rumor at best. People were asking about him but weren't daring enough to demand who Danny was.

Barbara was the best like that, and Danny should convince Damian to give her and her dad an even longer, all-expenses-paid vacation. She deserved it.

"Our bi-weekly ritual. Of course. Must have have slipped my mind." Tim carefully articulates. His words are clipped enough Danny can tell he's confused. Danny beams at him nonetheless, sitting on the ground carefully after he finishes adding his pillow and blanket to Tim's bed.

He leans his back against Tim's beg, crosses his legs underneath him, and takes a deep breath of ectoplasm.

Tim pauses for only a moment before walking over and sitting cross-leg in front of Danny. The younger boy pays him no mind while fumbling with the bag he brought along.

Danny began pulling out all his needed supplies. Five candles- each with a different color flame are left in a small circle. Five bottles sealed with wax and labeled with different named potions are carefully added to the center of the circle- he makes sure that the glitter liquid inside does not shake too much less the small surprise is noticed.

Then he pulls out a large book, with the image of a screaming skull on the cover. It's large enough that he has to set it on the ground, a thump produced from the weight.

He then carefully claps his hands four times, switching Tim's lights off so the only glow is the green, blue, pink, purple, and yellow light of the candle.

Tim looks a bit distressed. likely thinking Danny was about to start practicing the Black Magic or something. It's hard to keep a straight face as he fights off a giggle at the expression being aimed his way while he flips through the pages.

Tim carefully taps his hand against a bracelet on his wrist, which connects to the Bat's communication lines. The rest of the Bats are probably thinking that Tim is in danger even though he was supposed to be on rest duty and have tuned into the conversation. Danny isn't supposed to know that, though, since he is not "healthy" enough to be a vigilante, so he ignores it.

"Alright, should I start or you?" Danny asks when he lands on the page he was looking for. It's in Latin, which he knows Tim can read but that doesn't stop it from being creepy.

"You can start first."

"Really? You never let me go first in the bi-weekly ritual!" Danny cheers, leaning down to the page. From the corner of his eye, he can see the distress blooming more on Tim's face.

"I'm feeling...generous. I think you're old enough to start our bi-weekly ritual that requires colorful candles, a large black skull book in Latin, and five colored potions." Tim says obviously repeating the materials to the eavesdropping Bats.

"Thanks, Tim! Okay, here we go." Danny holds out his hand above the book muttering in Latin.

"Oh great, Clockwork, master of time, head my call and tell me the answer to my inquiry." Danny quickly switches to English as he grabs the potion in pink glitter. Giving it a good shake, he continues. "Does Kon-El think Tim is cute?"

The glitter shifts until a dice appears with the words- More likely than you think is visible. Danny squeals showing Tim, "Omg Tim, you have a chance!"

Tim's face falters and then turns an alarming shade of red. "What?!"

"Wait the following questions!" Danny reaches for the remaining bottles, making sure to go in the color order of the candles. Will Kon ask Tim to marry him? Yes! Where will they live? A mansion. How many kids will they have? fifteen! What will Tim's future job be? A photographer!"

Danny flips the page over to a table of data, squabbling down the answers. "Okay, you're going to get married to Kon, live in a mansion, have fifteen kids, and be a photographer. This is the third time in a row that Kon has married you. I think Clockwork is on your side for this one, Tim. It's my turn!"

Danny pretended he couldn't hear Jason laughing his ass off in Tim's earpiece or Dick's voice cry out. "No fair! I want to play spooky MASH on a bi-weekly basis."

Tim is beet red, fumbling with his hands. "Who-i-what-?"

Danny frowns. "Are you okay Tim? Should we skip Bi-boys night?"

"Bi-boy night?!" Tim squeaks.

"Yeah! I thought I would give our hang-out night a nickname, and since we mostly end up talking about cute girls and boys, I thought we could name it bi-boy night. You know since you're the only one in the family that's bi like me? I know no one will want to date me. I'm too sick...but it's nice to have a brother who gets crushes."" Danny hunches his shoulders a little ignoring the way Tim's eyes widen a bit with affection. He's touched that Danny came to him for this. Fool. "We can skip my turn. It's not like I'll have someone anyway."

Jason has stopped laughing, and Steph softly whispers. "That's so cute and sad. Who's been hurting our baby?"

Tim swallows. "No. We are not skipping your turn. We are going to play this game because anyone would be tripping over themselves for you."

"Really?" Danny smiles hopefully at Tim. Tim nods firmly, then narrows his eyes.

"No dating until you are sixteen."

"I know." Danny rolls his eyes "You've said that before."

"Good."

"But I can still have crushes right? Because I have one on Jon."

"Jon Kent?" Tim asks at the same time Bruce growls the name.

"You won't tell Dad will you?" Danny asks after nodding and blushing. Damian told him yesterday that Jon pissed him off, and with the power to heat up his ectoplasm just behind his checks, causing them to flush, he thinks he just found a good way to make the super regret upsetting his brother.

Nothing like an overprotective Bat clan to dish out vengence.

"No," Tim says, grinding his teeth. "No, I won't tell. But since I already got married to Kon maybe we can try someone else."

Danny's eyes sparkle with barely concealed glee. "Okay, let's use my second crush! He's super cooler anyway"

"Of course, what's his name?" Tim asks picking up the pink bottle.

"Your friend Bernard," Danny says, knowing Danm well, Tim had an undiscovered crush on the guy. He watches with glee as Tim chocks on his spit.

"What?!"

"Yeah, he's got muscular arms, and he can cook," Danny sighs dreamily. "Damian thinks he's hot too."

"No." Tim gasps.

"I do," Damian says over the cons to the collective shock of everyone. "Dowd has a fine physique. He's also great with animals. I approve of Daniel's involvement with him."

Danny's lower lip wobbles. "No? I can't play the game?"

Tim takes one look at him before caving. "Does Bernard Dowd think Danny is cute......it says no."

"Oh. If Clockwork doesn't think so, then I guess it's not meant to be," Danny sighs.

"Who is Clockwork?" Tim asks, placing the potion down.

Danny blinks. "You don't remember Clockwork? Lately, everyone has been forgetting important things around here. Is something wrong?"

Danny allows his body to flicker a bit with his powers, acting as if he didn't notice as Tim grows alarmed.

"I'm joking! It's a joke! Of course, I know Clockwork! Ha ha ha! Why don't we do the next thing on our Bi-Boy Night!? Want to watch a movie?!" Tim practically leaps out of his seat racing to TV. "What are you in the mood for? Comedy or horror?"

"A musical!"

"A musical!?"

However, Damian has to stop on a roof to laugh into the concrete as he listens to Drake- an active hater of musicals- try to sing along to something called High School Musical and act like he loves it as Danny sings with him. He can hear Drake's blood pressure rise with every new line

#dcxdpdabbles #Demon and Angel Brat #Part 2 #Danny is being a active menace to the Waynes #Starting with Tim #He's making everything up as he goes #He is trying to see how far he can push them by his weirdness #Fake illness #Damian is laughing at his brother #Tim is being bombarded with his crushes

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vivwritesfics · 10 months ago

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Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter One - Royal Mess

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

Notes: The Monaco royal family has been fabricated for this story! I know nothing about the actual Monaco royal family so I have made it up, turned them into characters

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, hangover

2.1K

Series Masterlist

ROYAL MESS

In the early hours of the Morning on Friday, the 19th of May, Princess Y/N of Monaco was found lying in the street outside of MK Club Monaco after what appears to be a wild night out. Fans of the princess know this is no new occurrence for her.

When asked, employees in the club were quoted as saying: “It is always a delight to serve the princess. She is always polite and kind when ordering from the bar, always offering to pay for the drinks of those around her."

"Princess Y/N is fun to party with, sure. But she takes it too far, gets too drunk, and leaves us all wondering how far is too far?" Said one club patron to our reporters.

It leaves us all wondering how far is too far for the Princess of Monaco? When will her family finally take action against her partying ways?

Pictures such as these are not uncommon for the Princess of Monaco, showing us just how far royal privilege goes. It is at times like these where we thank any higher power above us that she is just the spare.

Having your entire life published for the world to see was incredibly hard. From the minute she was born, Princess Y/N of Monaco had been watched by the public. Her birth had been publicised, with minute by minute updates from the royal family staff to the papers (that was a tabloid problem actually. The staff member that had been feeding this information to the public had been fired as soon as he had been discovered).

Everything she did, from her very first public opinion, had been on television for the principality to see. Monaco loved her, but they mostly loved watching her. At first she was cute, the nation fawning over her. Her first birthday was televised, as was every birthday until she became a teenager.

As a teenager, Princess Y/N of Monaco tried to be withdrawn, to stay away from the public eye. But it was damn near impossible. She was the Princess, everybody wanted to know what she was all about. Her social circle was a pool of sharks, ready to sell her out for a quick bit of cash.

As Princess Y/N got older, she began acting out more and more. She had her first drink at sixteen years old, two years before she had reached the legal drinking age. From that moment, her life changed.

That was the moment she became this wild party girl. Where she’d been pristine and proper for the cameras and the tabloids, Y/N changed. She stopped caring about the cameras that followed her, about what the tabloids were saying about her. She was going to live her life and she wasn’t going to give a damn anymore.

She became this wild party girl. She had appeared in every club in Monaco before she turned eighteen. All of them were her regular spots by the time she turned eighteen. It was embarrassing to the Royal family of Monaco. She was embarrassing to the Royal family of Monaco.

Embarrassing to the point where her father made her move out. He bought her an apartment, somewhere to go that was just hers. It got her out of the palace, away from the rest of the royal family. She still went to the palace when she was needed, but that was rare.

It was easier to get back to her Monaco apartment after a night of getting black out drunk, but sometimes Y/N ended up at the palace. It was a force of habit by then, getting the taxi to take her back to the palace. She was never turned away, always allowed inside. Normally she stumbled away to her childhood bedroom, falling asleep in her clothes from the night before.

That was what happened this time. She had fallen asleep in the sparkly top and jeans that she had worn during her night out. She stank of alcohol and had a wicked hangover when she woke up.

It was disorienting, waking up in her childhood bedroom. She wasn’t used to it still, even though it was a pretty regular occurrence. After a few seconds of getting used to the blinding light in her bedroom (she was too drunk to close to curtains the night before), she quickly figured out where she was and rushed to the bathroom to throw up.

Fuuuuuck.

Her brother was never happy to see her at the palace after a night of drinking. Actually, he was always pissed, especially when she was drunk.

When she was done throwing up in her en suite, Y/N washed her face, trying to wake herself up. She placed some toothpaste on the toothbrush that had been placed in her bathroom for when she stayed over and began brushing her teeth, trying to get the taste of throw up out of her mouth.

As she brushed her teeth, there was a knock at the door. She shouted something around the toothbrush in her mouth, but it was unintelligible. The knock sounded again, the person refusing to leave her alone.

With a huff and a sigh, Y/N walked out of the bathroom with her toothbrush still in her mouth. “What?” She barked as she pulled open the door.

In front of her was her brother, already dressed in his usual fine suit. “Fuck,” Y/N hissed around her toothbrush, and his expression dropped.

“Language,” he said, striding into the room. He scrunched up his nose, the room already reeking of alcohol. Oh wait, that was just her. “Shower, get dressed, and meet me in my office,” he said and turned on his heel, walking out of the room.

As the door shut, Y/N pulled a face and stuck up her middle finger. She was far too drunk for this shit.

Spitting into the sink, Y/N put her toothbrush back. She stripped off her dirty clothes from the night before and climbed into the shower. The hot water was like heaven against her skin, and she relished in it. The whole shower was a slow process. She was slow to squeeze her shampoo into her hand and run it through her hair. If she remembered rightly from the night before, somebody had accidentally thrown their drink over her.

She took her time getting clean. It didn’t cure her hangover, but it certainly made her feel better.

Once she was done, Y/N got changed into pyjamas. She didn’t bother dressing properly, what was the point? She didn’t care for the people taking tours around the palace, didn’t care for the staff walking through the halls, or the security in every room.

As she walked through the halls, heading towards her brother’s office, she waved to the tourists. They instantly snapped pictures of her in her hello kitty pyjama pants but, again, she didn’t care.

She knew more than anybody else in her family that they were not the most famous thing in Monaco. No, the twenty-six year old Ferrari driver was. Charles Leclerc, Il Predestinato. He was the biggest thing in Monaco, the pride and joy of the nation. Y/N’s brother only helped to fuel this. The Prince of Monaco was maybe the biggest Charles Leclerc fanboy out there.

She knocked on the door before walking into her brother’s office. There were two security guards on the door, keeping the public away. Y/N walked the short distance and threw herself down into the chair opposite her brother, his rather large desk between them.

The first bit of responsibility that Henri, the Prince of Monaco, was given by his father, was to look after Y/N, his little sister. She was his responsibility – Henri knew he was going to be grey by the time he was thirty.

Henri pulled a newspaper out of his desk drawer and threw it down in front of her. It was opened perfectly, showing off the picture of her laying on the grass. “Seriously, Y/N?” He voiced as he sat back in his chair, staring at her.

Y/N picked up the newspaper and read through it. She’d only been back from her night out for maybe six hours; they’d gotten the story printed insanely quickly. But they always did when it came to her, she was a hot topic for journalists.

“I don’t know what you’re upset about, Hen,” she said as she put the newspaper back and tucked her hair behind her ear. “They don’t mention you in the article.”

Henri let out a sigh as he ran his hands through his hair. He could have pulled it out from how much she frustrated him, let the bald spots appear. But he couldn’t. He was a prince; he had to be pristine and perfect. On the rare instances that the tabloids were speaking about him instead of his sister, he was often referred to as Prince Charming, and he had women swooning left, right, and centre.

Too bad Henri was more interested in cars than women.

“Do you seriously not understand who articles like this makes our entire family look?” He asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you that fucking thick? This shit makes us all look bad, not just you.”

Y/N let out a dramatic, sarcastic gasp. Her brother didn’t often swear, so she had to take the piss when he did. But Henri’s glare shut her up immediately. Although he tried to always remain composed, Henri was still scary when he was angry.

Well, she stopped with her dramatics, but she wasn’t going to back down. Suddenly, Y/N was standing up, her hands on his desk. “Like the article said, Henri, I’m just the spare,” she spat and sat herself back in the chair.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Henri said as he shook his head. He tried to keep his calm, remain composed, but Y/N made this very, very hard. It had been six years of Henri doing this, and he still wasn’t used to it. “You’re nothing but a spoilt, little brat.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. If Herni wanted to go there, he was going to go there. She let out a dry laugh as her nails dug into the arm of the chair. “I’m the selfish one?” She threw back, feigning surprise. “Was it me who threw a tantrum because I didn’t get a Ferrari 250 GTO for my twenty second birthday? No, wait, I think that was you.”

Henri glared, but he easily hid his surprise. How on earth did she remember the name of the car that he had so desperately wanted seven years ago?

But he dropped his glare and sat back in his seat, once again pinching the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t him that she was annoyed at, it was the article, and she was just lashing out. “Go on,” Henri said, waving her off.

Y/N stood up, marching out of the office as Henri placed the newspaper back into his desk drawer. She stomped her way through the halls, ignoring the tourists as she went to gather her things and head back to her apartment.

She was near impossible to deal with. Twenty-two years old, and jobless. She was living off her family, living fast and living like she wanted to die young. When she turned twenty, her family had tried to force her into getting a job, but that had pushed Y/N into doing even more wild and crazy stuff. She had disappeared for three days, her only respite from drinking being when she was sleeping on a friend’s couch. She was on a full-on bender and her family was incredibly worried for her.

Keeping his eye on Y/N and putting out her fires for her was a full-time job for Henri. It had him so exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. She was going to be the death of him.

He had to do something with her, something to get her on the right track. But he didn’t know what.

There was one thing Y/N could be forced into. It was something fun, something she had done as a child and maybe the one event she looked forward to every year. Her eyes would light up as she watched it happen and she got to excited to hand the winners their trophies.

That was the Monaco Grand Prix.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @hellowgoodbye @prettiest-at-the-party @hollie911 @darleneslane @minkyungseokie @charizznorizz @rafaaoli @myescapefromthislife @choppedlambshandcowboy @spilled-coffee-cup @janeholt3 @mamako23 @catmouseggy

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader smut #charles leclerc x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 months ago

Text

A Place To Call Home: Redux

Summary: In this special part of APTCH, we're going way back. What if things went differently? What if the reader was removed from the Ackles home after only a few months? What if she blamed them for letting her go? What if she found out the truth about her birth parents from the start? What exactly would that do to this father/daughter duo's bond and would it be able to be salvaged? Find out in this special AU from the main APTCH timeline!

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 16,600ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of prior abuse (not descriptive), family drama, all the tears

A/N: When I wanted to return to the APTCH world, I've always had this idea of what if the reader hadn't known the full truth about her parents accident? What if she'd been forced to leave? This is strictly a one-off AU part where I got to explore the answers to those questions and see new sides to everyone.

This part takes place during Part 4 of APTCH. This part starts with some text from that italicized before divulging into the story. I can't wait to hear your thoughts! Please enjoy!

__________

Two Months Later

“Y/N?” asked Zeppelin. You lifted your head up from where you were laying in the grass in the backyard, staring up at the sky. “Cole’s here.”

You looked past him, seeing Cole walk down the slope of the yard with Jensen, Danneel playing with the girls, a nervous look on her face.

“Go back to mommy, Zepp,” you said, Zepp running past Cole and Jensen, Jensen’s face hard. You saw another set of people walk down the yard, a police officer and a woman from Cole’s office you recognized. You instantly stood up, Jensen staring at the ground when he and Cole stopped in front of you. “Cole, why are you here? With them?”

“You know why,” he said.

“Look at me,” you barked at Jensen, his head whipping up. “Did you-”

“No. Kiddo, no. We got a call this morning that said we failed our last check in,” said Jensen. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not leaving,” you said, Cole sighing. “You’re going to have to drag me out of here.”

“I don’t agree with the failed check in. They’ve done nothing wrong and you’re like a different person, Y/N. I petitioned for you to stay. But their foster parent privileges are going to be revoked,” said Cole.

“I want to see the failed check in. I can request to see my file. I know I can,” you said.

“Inappropriate relationship with a foster child was cited as a cause,” said Cole.

“Who had final sign off?” you said. “I sure as shit know you know neither one of them are inappropriate with me.”

“I signed off,” said the woman as she walked over, Jensen shooting her a quick glare. “This publicity stunt for the Ackles is over. It was tolerated but there is evidence of Jensen becoming too physically close.”

“Excuse me?” you said.

“His recent postings on Instagram show you two in a suggestive position,” she said. “When you were seated on his lap.”

“Excuse me?” you said again. “I was holding Zepp in my lap too. It wasn’t inappropriate. Cole, do something.”

He took your arm and pulled you aside, letting out a sigh. “Y/N. I know it wasn’t. Anyone with half a brain can see that but Mrs. Keller has the power to move any foster and she wants you moved. I promise I’ll do what I can to get you back here as soon as I can. I-”

You stared over at where Danneel sat with the kids, eyes on you, gaze shifting to where Jensen was arguing with Mrs. Keller.

“Did they give me up Cole?” you asked quietly. “Did the Ackles-”

“No. At least not that I know of. But Mrs. Keller is saying they failed a check-in.”

“They’re going to lose their license to foster,” you said. He nodded. “But they have money. They can fight it if they want-”

“Sweetie, you’ll turn eighteen before it was settled legally. The state will fight back and it’ll get drawn out. I can’t believe I’m saying this but you’re probably better off…sticking it out in whatever home you get placed in and when you’re eighteen, you could come back here-”

“Assuming they actually wanted me. They have so much money, Cole. If they really wanted me…they wouldn’t let me go,” you whispered. “How do you know they didn’t turn me in behind your back? How do you know?”

Cole was quiet, closing his eyes.

“See? You don’t know for sure. I bet they didn’t fail a check-in. It’s just their way of getting rid of me and saving face.” You glared at Jensen when he turned his head in your direction. “If you didn’t want me, at least have the balls to say it to my face!”

Cole sighed as you stormed inside the house. Fuck those people. Fuck Jensen especially. He was so full of shit. You knew, you knew, this whole thing was a sham from the start. All he ever wanted was to show what a wonderful person he was to the world and once that was done, he was dumping your ass.

You slammed your bedroom door shut, locking it behind you. He was going to come in there and try to bullshit you some more. Him or Dee. But you weren’t falling for it again. No, you were packing up your shit and getting the fuck out of there for good.

Jensen was standing there when you ripped open the door five minutes later but you simply shoved past him for the bathroom. “Y/N-”

“Don’t say a fucking word to me,” you snapped. You swept the few products you had into a small bag, hoping it would hold you over for awhile. Quickly, you got it inside your duffel bag, Jensen reaching out for you when you stepped into the hallway. He was smart enough to pull his hand back though before he could touch you. “Move.”

“We didn’t do this,” he said, a harsh edge to his voice. “Y/N, I swear to god we want you to stay. This is killing me.”

“I never should have trusted you,” you said, pushing on his shoulder, Jensen closing his eyes. “I-I trusted you. I thought you cared about me. I thought you might have actually wanted to be my…I knew you were just acting. I fucking knew I was a pawn for you in your fancy little life. I can’t believe I fell for it.”

“That is not true and deep down you know it,” he said. You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. “Y/N, Y/N stop-”

“You’re not my foster dad anymore. I don’t have to do a thing you say,” you called back.

“You are my daughter.” You stopped in your tracks, looking over your shoulder. His jaw was clenched, eyes full of worry. “And I’m your dad. I will bring you back home, understand me? We will find a way to get you back home to your family, no matter how long it takes.”

“I’m eighteen in nine months, Jensen. I’m getting the fuck out of this shitty system the moment I can and when I do? You come near me again and I’ll call the cops on you myself. Am I clear?” He shook his head, getting closer.

“We’ll earn it back,” he said, lifting his chin. “I’ll earn it back. Your trust. Your love because I know you loved us and just couldn’t say it. So we’ll start from scratch, less than scratch if we have to. Hate me and hate Dee. Do what you need to these next nine months to survive because I know you can do it. I fucking know you can. The second you are out of this system that keeps hurting you, I will be there and I will bring you home, understand? I will call you, text you, facetime you everyday. We are not through, okay? We-”

You ripped your phone from your pocket, tossing it on the ground, watching the screen shatter. You shook your head, adjusting the strap on your shoulder.

“No more lies, Jensen. Stay the hell away from me.”

“At least say goodbye to the kids,” he said when you started to walk for the front door. “Y/N!”

“They’ll be fine. Better to learn young how much the world sucks.”

“Y/N-”

You flipped him the bird as you left, finding Cole leaning against the hood of his car. “So where the hell am I staying tonight?”

“They deserve a proper goodbye,” he said, nodding around to the backyard.

“The twins will forget I exist in six months and JJ will too in a few years. Let’s go,” you said, opening his backseat and tossing your duffel inside. Cole gave you that look, his disappointed one you so rarely saw from him, before you got in the passenger seat.

“The Ackles are good people. I’ll find out-”

“Cole. Please just stop,” you said, leaning your head against the glass. You jerked it upright when you saw Jensen and Danneel step outside the front door, looking like deer caught in headlights. “Take me to house fifteen.”

“Y/N-”

“Get me away from here. Now.”

The Next Day

“Hey,” said Cole as you leaned against the post of the car port at the new foster home. “How’s it going so far?”

You gave him your best bitch face, Cole nodding. “It’s fine.”

“Be careful of this guy. I’ve heard rumors of physical abuse but no proof and no kid would ever say anything. Lock the door at night or better yet, push the dresser in front of it.” You looked past him to the crappy house across the street. “I’m serious.”

“And I’m serious about getting emancipated.”

“This shit again? You do not have a job, Y/N-”

“I got my working papers from my new high school earlier. There’s no other kids here for me to look out for so when i’m not in school, I’ll be working.” He sighed. “Cole-”

“You can’t access your parents assets until you’re older. If…if you could, maybe we could make it work but-”

“Then get me access,” you growled. He narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger in your face.

“I fucking tried,” he said. “Do not treat me like the bad guy, Y/N. I have always tried to get you into good homes with good people and I really, really looked into emancipation for you. But you are a ward of the state and the state won’t admit they’re a shitty parent no matter how true it is.”

You crossed your arms, lips pursed. “Then line up the paperwork so that the day I turn eighteen, I’m out of the system.”

“This guy will kick you out of the house the second you age out. You’ll be homeless if you choose to leave.”

“Well that’s my problem, isn’t it? I’ll spend from now until then working my ass off and saving up. I’ll only have five months of high school left after that. I can bounce around shelters until I graduate-”

“Are you listening to yourself?” scoffed Cole. “I am not letting you be homeless.”

You rolled your eyes, Cole stepping closer.

“Your stubbornness made you a survivor and some days I am grateful for it because I know there’s shit that happened to you that you won’t even admit to me. I know you could do it all on your own if you had to. But I haven’t worked my ass off since you were ten fucking years old for you to give up.”

“I am not giving up. I’m growing up. I’m turning eighteen and getting the fuck out of this fucked up town and maybe I’ll find some people with a shred of decency. You never fucking did,” you balked. You walked away, putting your back to him. You heard him behind you, felt him stop close by as you scrunched up your face.

“That family loves you. I have had fosters get adopted by families before and see those connections. Well, I have some news for you. Jensen and Danneel? Kid, they are the best kind of person for you. You are not their foster daughter to them. You are not the potential adoptee. You are not the girl with different parents. You were not made by them but you are theirs and they love you as if you were their blood.”

“It’s a fucking act, Cole. Don’t you fall for it-” you said, spinning around, cutting yourself off when he handed you a dark green iphone.

“I could lose my job for this,” he said, shoving it into your hands. “You don’t have to speak to them but they want…they need you to know that you can always call on them and they will come. When you turn eighteen, they’ll be here if that’s what you decide.”

“Cole.” He shook his head. “They threw me away!”

“I don’t know what happened but I’d bet my fucking life they had nothing to do with this. When I checked on them this morning, they begged me to get their daughter back. Begged, Y/N. You want to grow up? Then trust your heart for once. They will come back for you if you let them. Give them a chance to.”

You frowned, Cole giving you one.

“Do you need anything?” he asked. You shook your head, kicking your foot against the ground. “Stay safe, kiddo. Put in one of those anonymous calls you like to do if this guy tries anything.”

“Anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?” you called as he headed for the inside of the house.

“Give them a chance, kiddo.”

You laid in bed that night, your new phone vibrating from where you hid it under your pillow from your new foster dad, aka Mac, aka the asshole. You’d been at two other homes before with a single dad and neither had been good. They’d done it just for the extra money and you’d never felt comfortable at either. But back then you were much younger, only a kid and a pre-teen and there’d been other kids around.

Now it was a seventeen year old you alone with a sketchy at best guy in his late forties. You glanced at the chair you’d propped under the door handle, sighing. You’d gotten too used to not being cautious with the Ackles. You were going to need to make sure you spent as little time as possible in this house.

You grabbed the phone, pouting at the text that came up.

Jensen: I know you hate me and Dee. We’re fighting this failed check in bullshit but the lawyer was honest with us. There’s no guarantee we win the appeal. But no matter what, we’ll be there when you need us, whether we’re your foster parents or not. We’re not supposed to contact you but we need you to know you’re not alone. We are here for you everyday. We are going to do everything we can to bring you home as soon as we can. No matter what happens, the second you’re eighteen, I’ll be there to get you. I understand if you don’t want to answer me. Be safe. We love you, tall munchkin.

“No you fucking don’t,” you mumbled, turning the phone off before hiding it again. “Please just leave me alone.”

Three Months Later

“Hey Andrea?” you asked on a late Friday afternoon. Your boss from the restaurant and bar you worked at grunted from her back office. “I finish up with school next Tuesday and was wondering if I could get more hours for the summer?”

“More hours?” she asked, lifting her head up. “Don’t you have another job?”

“Yeah but I like this job better,” you said, giving her a friendly smile.

“You like this job better because I pay you under the table.”

“It works for me, it works for you…come on, you know I’m a good server,” you said. She frowned but sighed.

“I can bump you up to twenty five hours but that’s it.” You grinned, Andrea rolling her eyes. “Go grab some lunch and get out of here.”

“You’re the best,” you said on your way out. After bringing out a bag of trash to the dumpster, you washed up and got the chef to whip you up an extra large chicken wrap with a side of mac and cheese. You got a free meal for each shift and it’d helped immensely considering how Mac hardly ever kept any food in the house. Almost all his meals came from take out or going out with his friends. Between your two restaurant jobs thankfully you were able to not be hungry most days.

You packed up the food in a container and walked a few blocks down to a park, finding your usual bench before digging in.

“Y/N!” You jumped in your seat, spilling your late lunch on the ground. You growled as a figure appeared before you. You glared up at a sweaty Jensen, his face red as he put his hands on his hips. “I missed you at work and tried to catch up but I couldn’t find parking and never mind but I-”

“You made me drop my food,” you snapped. He looked down at your feet, a wince on his face.

“I’m sorry. We can go get something-”

“You give me twenty bucks and then get the fuck away from me or I swear I’ll start screaming.” He blinked at you, his breathing slowing down. “Jensen, I am serious.”

“I…Y/N we won the appeal. You can come home,” he said. You narrowed your eyes, his head cocking. “I know you blocked our numbers but Y/N a lot has happened. Cole’s on his way over to pick you up and take you to a private session with the district attorney and some people from the state’s office. I can’t be in the room but-”

“You just don’t stop, do you?” you scoffed, standing. You pushed on his chest, Jensen taking a step back. “News flash, I don’t want to go anywhere with you ever again.”

“Y/N, we didn’t get rid of you,” he breathed out. “We’ve been working on getting you back home every single day.”

“Stop lying to me!” you shouted, your face scrunching up. “I’m just something for you to prop yourself up with. Look how amazing we are, taking in a poor little orphan girl. If you gave a shit about me, you wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

A part of you knew you were being unreasonable but you’d been on your own for three months and you knew the only person you could rely on was yourself. Jensen hid the hurt on his face quickly, replacing it with a neutral expression.

“You can hate me. You can hate me for as long as you like. But you are coming home to us after you sort things out with Cole. We are your foster family again and someday you’ll be able to admit that you know you’re just lashing out because you’re angry. Because we will be there for you after the fact. Because we love you and care about you and deep down in places you don’t like to admit exist, you might even care about us too.”

“I will never care about you again,” you whispered. “And I will never, ever, trust you.”

Jensen stepped closer, staring you down, his jaw clenched. “I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong again.”

“Good fucking luck with that.” You sat down, crossing your arms. “You can go.”

“Once Cole gets here.” You flipped him off, Jensen taking a seat on the bench across the path, sighing as he went. “Please try to remember that I love you.”

You didn’t respond. Maybe he really did love you. Maybe you really were just angry after he let you get taken. But there was nothing he could say you wanted to hear.

You still hurt too much.

Four Hours Later

You knew people were talking around you. Lawyers. People from the state department. The head of foster care for the state. FBI agents. District attorneys and half of the local foster care office.

Cole sat by your side at the far end of the table, arguing with someone on the other side. The voices were loud, blame being passed around. Threats of lawsuits were in every other word. So many people, so many strangers shouting about your life like you weren’t even there.

You stood up, catching Cole’s attention first but slowly the others took notice, so many pairs of eyes on your numb face.

“What is it, Y/N?” Cole asked, rising to his feet beside you. You blinked slowly, scanning the room once.

“I don’t care about Mrs. Keller and that she blamed my parents for her son’s death in the car accident. I don’t care that my parents didn’t die in the accident and went into witness protection and then didn’t or whatever the fuck they did. I don’t care that they gave me up and that state, you people, are my guardian. I don’t give a shit that none of you realized or that those who did cared more about your fucking case than a ten year old girl. I don’t care that my parents never wanted me and they don’t a shit about me. I don’t care, I don’t fucking care so stop fucking yelling. Please.”

Thirty different sets of eyes stared at you, a heavy guilt settling in the air.

“I’m not a pawn in your blame games. I’m a person who’s life you fucked up. I won’t sue you. I don’t care about that shit. All I want is to go home to the Ackles. I want to stay with them and if they ever decide they want to adopt me, you’re going to approve it on the spot. No dragging it out for months or years. They get it that day. Understand?”

You saw the head of foster care nod, your eyes closing.

“If you people have nothing else to say to me, can I please go home?” There was a quiet murmur and then you felt Cole’s arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day. Let’s get you home, Y/N.”

Cole grabbed you some fast food on the way to the Ackles house, your house, but you had no appetite. You’d felt a lot of things in life but this…dejection, was something entirely new. You were so numb you couldn’t even cry.

No one in your life had ever wanted you. Not a single soul. Except for the family you’d pushed away, yelled at, been cruel to.

There was no way they’d want you after all that. Why would they? You were so fucked up, no one ever would.

“Y/N. Y/N!” shouted Cole. You blinked, his car parked in the Ackles driveway. “Jesus, are you with me?”

“I’m just tired, Cole,” you whispered. You slid out of the car, Cole grabbing your duffel from the backseat. You barely made it to the cover of the front porch before the door opened and you saw Jensen and Danneel come out.

“Hey guys,” said Cole quietly, setting your duffel on the table, your gaze drifting past them, looking out to the dark water of the river beyond. “She’s…had a long day.”

“Hey, kiddo,” said Jensen but you didn’t look at him, a cold creeping feeling settling through your bones. You knew they were exchanging looks with Cole, a heavy sigh coming from him.

“Be gentle,” you heard him murmur. “Get her back in therapy asap.”

“Are you hungry? I can make you something,” said Danneel as you stared outside. “Y/N?”

“No thank you,” you said, voice flat, picking up your duffel and taking the bag of food. “All I want to do is eat this, take a shower and go to bed.”

“Your room’s all set, honey,” said Jensen, letting you slip past him. You slowed your steps when you felt their stares on your back. But it wasn’t them that made you come to stop. No, it was the picture on the wall next to the hallway to your room that caught your attention. It’d been some professional picture before, one from when the twins were newborns and the rest of them.

Now it housed a photo you remember not feeling like you should have been part of. Jenen’s arm was around your shoulders, the other holding up Arrow. Zep was in Dee’s arms while JJ stood in front of you with a big grin. You remembered taking it at Jensen’s birthday party a few days before you’d left, trying your hardest to stay out of the family photos but he kept finding you every time you tried to run away.

And you’d thought they’d betrayed you.

You took off down the hall, closing your bedroom door quickly behind you. The room didn’t smell like cleaner yet it was which meant they were in the habit of regularly dusting it. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in there except for Dee’s blanket you’d stolen a long time ago and a hoodie of Jensen’s you’d worn a few times when it’d gotten a tad too cold out at night for you.

You sighed when you picked up the framed drawing on your desk of the family, JJ’s judging by the quality but you could see where the twins had gotten their hands on it. You had to put it down and flip it over when you saw she’d put you in it.

You pushed away the rising bile in your throat and forced yourself to eat part of the burger so there was at least something in your stomach. After chucking the leftovers in the garage, you took a long shower, a basket full of new products waiting for you on the counter.

Fucking considerate assholes. Why did you have to be such a bitch to them? They never gave you up and…

“It’ll never go back to how it was,” you whispered to yourself. You ducked your head under the water and turned it cold, trying to figure out what the hell you were supposed to do.

You were finally back home with people that wanted you. Had wanted you at least. But now? Who knew if they’d let you in all the way again?

Who knew if you’d ever forgive yourself for hurting them. Maybe you’d been the asshole all along. Maybe you were never a good kid and everyone saw it but you.

You slammed the water off and dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized shirt, throwing Jensen’s hoodie on when you were back in your room to help with the chill you’d self-inflicted. It warmed you some but a faint whiff of his cologne came off the fabric, your gut churning once more. With a sigh, you sat down on the edge of the bed, staring out your dark window. To your surprise, and you were grateful for it, no one came to talk to you. It seemed like a long time but eventually you heard Cole’s car drive off and saw the front lights dim. The house was quiet. Still.

It was after ten and you had the sense that Jensen and Danneel had retreated to the confines of their bedroom to talk about you in hushed whispers.

You tried to lay down but no matter how exhausted you were, sleep wouldn’t come. Your brain couldn’t turn off, couldn’t relax. For hours and hours the same questions kept running through your mind.

Why hadn’t your birth parents given you up for adoption when you were young? Why hadn’t they planned it better with their FBI handler? Why’d the FBI just let them go when they ran off? Why had no one put it together about Mrs. Keller’s son being killed in the accident? What was so wrong with you no one wanted you?

Were you even capable of knowing what love felt like?

You bolted out of bed, storming out of your room and down the hall. Fuck, you needed air. You went out on the back porch, standing in the dark and watching the dark waves in the distance, the scattered lights along the houses on the opposite side of the river.

“I can’t sleep either.” You didn’t turn but felt Jensen come to stand beside you, a glass of water in hand. “You get any at all tonight?”

You shook your head, Jensen offering the water to you. You slowly took it, drinking the cold liquid down in big gulps. When you handed him the glass, he set it down on the outdoor table before returning to lean his forearms against the railing.

God, he looked fucking…sad.

“S’funny.” You glanced up at his dark face, his focus on the backyard, eyes glancing up at the few bright stars poking through overhead.

“What is?” you said, a strange lack of emotion in your voice that should have concerned you but you were too tired to care. Jensen heard it though, looking you up and down.

“How cruel the world can be to a perfectly innocent kid.”

“Plenty worse could have happened to me,” you said, a frown forming on his face. His brow furrowed, eyes searching yours.

“And what exactly does that mean?” he asked, his jaw clenching. You shrugged, gaze back on a few waves that peaked up and sloshed back down. “Y/N.”

“It means in retrospect for what did happen to me, much worse things could have. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Your birth parents abandoned you in the forest during fucking bear season. They admitted-”

“Nothing happened.” He audibly growled, clenching his fists on the railing. “It’s fine.”

“No,” he said, taking you by both your arms and leaning down, face hard. “No, none of it was fine. You were hurt and abused and you will not brush this under the rug. You are not alright. My Y/N is fighter. She’s a ball of spitfire and doesn’t back down from a fight. Even on her worst days, she’s got a spark in her. Don’t lose that, tall munchkin. Don’t.”

“I’m done fighting, Jensen. I give up. I don’t care anymore. I just don’t care.”

“Care about what?” he asked quietly.

“Anything. Just get me through high school and then I’ll move to the middle of nowhere where no one will have to remember I ever exist.” He dropped his head, breathing deeply. “Jensen, it’s fine-”

“Don’t…” he trailed off, his fingertips digging into your biceps ever so slightly. He slowly raised his head, his face somber. “Honey…you may never trust me again or believe me again and I shouldn’t say this but I get it. I fucking get why you might never trust anyone to be a parent to you ever again. But Y/N, I can never forget your exist. You’re one of my reasons for living and when you talk like that you scare me. Shit, you have no idea how much it scares me to know you hurt so much and I can’t fix it. You don’t know what I’d give for that version of you at the park who hated my guts right now. She was fighting. I need you to keep fighting. Don’t give up on me yet because I sure as shit will never give up on you, even when you do.”

You glanced down, nodding a few times. You felt him straighten and clear his throat, his hands rubbing gently up and down your arms.

“You know what’s sad? You’re the first person in my life that ever loved me,” you said, gaze fixated on the tile floor beneath you. “I treat you like shit and now I don’t even know how to feel anything anymore. I don’t understand at all how someone like you could love someone like me.”

“It is sad,” he said quietly, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “You deserved better. You deserved love long before now. But I will gladly be the first person to love you. Dads are like that.”

“Jensen,” you sighed, his hand dropping to under your jaw. You glanced up, a sad smile on his face.

“I know. Like I said, Dee and I will be whatever you need us to be. Parents. Friends. We can simply be a safe place for you. But whatever you decide, you don’t get to decide what you are to me, understand?” He rubbed your arms when you just stared at him. “Okay?”

“W-What am I to you?” you whispered. He tilted his head, sighing softly.

“Oh, you know, baby girl.” He pulled you into a hug, a tight embrace where you found yourself burrowing into his chest, clinging to his t-shirt. “I know it hurts and it’s so much easier not to feel it. I know. But I’m here. Mom’s here. You don’t have to face it alone. You’ll never be alone again.”

“I can’t…” you mumbled, breathing deeply, large hands holding you close. “You don’t understand how this feels. No one wants me. No one. It doesn’t matter how many times you say it, I just…I can’t believe you Jensen. It’ll kill me when you hurt me too.”

“What’s my job?” he whispered before kissing the top of your head. “What’d I tell you on that freezing cold road back in December in the rain? What’d I tell you my job is?”

You squeezed his shirt so hard you felt it straining, his hand running up and down your back. “Come on, kiddo. What’s my job?”

“Protect,” you whispered.

“That’s right,” he said, letting out a heavy sigh. “I haven’t done a very good job of that so far but it is my job. That’s what dads do. So let me do my job and you…you be as brave and strong as I know you are and give me a chance. Give me a chance to prove I love you, to know you are loved by this whole family and that…that…”

You glanced up, his face scrunched up, eyes opening as he sensed your gaze. He tucked your hair behind your ear, shoulders sagging.

“That what, Jensen?” you asked. He looked over your head, a sad little smile growing on his face.

“That I didn’t betray you. That every day you have been gone has been the darkest moment of my life. I need my daughter back.”

“I don’t know if I can do that. I’m sorry,” you said. You slipped past him, feeling his gaze on your back. You swallowed, looking down. “I just don’t know if I can ever care about you again. Please don’t hate me for that.”

“I could never hate you, tall munchkin.” You felt a hand on your back, your head lifting but you didn’t turn. “All I’m asking for is one more chance. I’m asking you to try one more time for me. Try to give us a chance.”

“I’m sorry, Jensen. I don’t think I can.”

You went inside before he could say a word but you felt his response when he dropped his hand.

You were breaking his heart. And the worst part, the scary part, was you felt nothing about doing so.

Twelve Hours Later

“I’m sorry, what was that word?” asked Danneel. You picked at a stray thread on a pillow in the family room. You didn’t completely understand why you were having this “emergency” session or whatever it was at home but you guessed it had something to do with that it was Sunday and just about every adult in your life was staring at you like you had three heads.

“It’s called Alexithymia. It’s a condition that can happen for a variety of reasons. In Y/N’s case, PTSD is causing it,” said your therapist. You’d spent the better part of the morning getting reacquainted with him on your own, with Dee, Jensen, all three of you together. You’d barely gotten more than two hours of sleep and honestly couldn’t give a crap about anything this guy said.

“But Y/N was diagnosed with PTSD before and didn't have this condition,” said Jensen. That peaked your attention, your finger raising. Jensen and Danneel shared a look from the far end of the couch, your therapist sighing.

“I don’t have PTSD, thank you very much.” Jensen scoffed. “If I had it, you would have had to tell me, dumbass.”

“It was not an official diagnosis previously but that’s irrelevant,” said the therapist. “The trauma Y/N endured last night and during the period she was removed from your home, even the removal from your home triggered-“

“It wasn’t fucking trauma and I wasn’t fucking triggered,” you snapped. “I am tired. I am just fucking tired from working so much and dealing with so much bullshit. I had two hours of sleep last night so of course I’m having a bad day. On a normal day, I’m fine.”

“What is this condition?” asked Dee, ignoring you. You rolled your eyes and would have simply left the room if not for Cole standing near the exit like a damn security guard. Apparently you weren’t being reasonable enough for them when you told them to take their therapist visit and shove it up their asses.

“It’s when someone has a hard time understanding the emotions they’re feeling or rather feeling or displaying an emotion at all. In Y/N’s case, based on what I’ve seen this morning, she’s primarily having a difficult time feeling her emotions.”

You flipped him off. “Does it feel like I’m having a hard time understanding my emotions?”

“Do I look like a fucking idiot?” His comment was strange for him. He never swore and was always level headed. “That’s a perfect example. Y/N knows I don’t swear yet there was zero emotion on her face whereas the rest of you were hiding your reactions. Y/N is a very smart girl who is very afraid of getting labeled with something because deep down she fears it makes her unlovable. And that we know for a fact from our previous sessions.”

You crossed your arms and sat back, glancing out the window, trying to calm down. Jensen cleared his throat. “So, uh, what does all this mean exactly?”

“It means you could put a puppy in front of her and she will react the same way as if you set the house on fire. She’s in pain, pain at a very fundamental level of her core. Her head right now is saying it can’t take more pain. It can’t deal with the pain,” said the therapist. “So her brain tells her I can keep you safe from the pain if you just don’t feel. You don’t have to feel those awful feelings if you don’t feel anything at all.”

“Yeah, cause that sounds like a normal reaction to have,” you mumbled. You turned towards Jensen and Danneel, their gaze shooting to you. “Do you seriously believe this crap? Jesus, I feel shit. Do I look like someone that doesn’t? This guy is so full of shit. He’s a fucking family doctor way out of his league and making crap up.”

Danneel bit her bottom lip, working it between her teeth worriedly. Jensen looked away.

“How do we help Y/N feel like herself again?” Jensen asked, ignoring your scoff.

“We work through the pain. She’s going to hate it. She’s going to hate all of us for a good while. We address the trauma endured and, eventually, her head will accept the emotions back. Most likely after something happens like a minor scare or a holiday or something where heightened emotion occurs. She protected herself in that conference room by retreating inward when she felt alone. We’ll make sure she knows she’s not.”

“Or…” you said, standing up. “Maybe this is a waste of time. Honestly? I couldn’t give a shit about what you think. People suck. That’s life. Just get my through the next six months until I’m eighteen and then it doesn’t matter what any of you want.”

You left and retreated to your room, quiet murmurs coming from down the hall. What was their problem? Just because you wanted to keep your distance you suddenly had a problem they were going to try and fix?

“Fuck this.” You went to the closet and grabbed your duffel, throwing it over your shoulder.

But for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You tensed when a hand lifted it off your shoulder and set it back in the closet. You swallowed when Jensen sighed, looking down at you.

“Listen. I don’t agree with what he said.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You don’t?”

“No. Because you’re pissed and I know my daughter. You don’t have whatever the thing is he said. Trauma? Sure. But you always have had that.” He put a hand on your head, ruffling your hair. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You aren’t going to make me like, see him extra or some crap?” He shook his head. “Really?”

“Really. We go back to once a week but nothing else. I know this isn’t something therapy will help with.” You frowned. Jensen shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “No, I realized last night the only way we fix this is with time. So we put in the effort and eventually, that wall will come down. I can wait.”

“Uh, thanks,” you said, rubbing your arm. “I’m really surprised you’re not siding with the doctor.”

“Tall munchkin.” You hated how those two words made your heart squeeze. You bit the inside of your cheek as he sighed. “He is an excellent family doctor but you had a point. He doesn’t know trauma. We’ll find someone better suited to help you. He’s going off a text book definition right now. I damn well know you feel things, you just don’t want to care about us right now. You’re still in shock, just like the rest of us. Let me and Dee figure out the therapist and you just…”

“Just what?” you mumbled. He titled his head, smiling sadly.

“Just be a fucking kid. Go play with the little kids. Spend the summer hanging out with your old friends because news flash, those girls miss you. Trust me, they text us at least once a week asking if we’ve heard from you cause apparently you’re radio silent when they reach out.”

You glanced down before taking a seat at the end of the bed. “I don’t want to be the girl they pity so they let me hang out with them.”

“Y/N,” he chided, sitting next to you. “I know you didn’t know them for very long but I thought those girls were your friends. I didn’t realize they treated you-”

“They didn’t,” you interjected. You rubbed your palm with your thumb, closing your eyes. “I just worried…I worried they didn’t actually like me and felt sorry for me. I’ve always been scared of getting close to anyone so it didn’t hurt when they fucked me over.”

You pressed your thumb in harder when you felt your skin prickle. Your face scrunched up, Jensen shifting beside you.

“I realize now that my birth parents weren’t all that much better than some of my fosters. I just always thought they were strict. Firm but it came from a good place. I was a good kid, after all. Even after I thought they were gone I was still good like they taught me to be.” You grabbed your thighs, gripping them both hard. “They taught me to be obedient and afraid of messing up. I needed to be perfect. Always fucking perfect even when I thought they were dead. I had to be perfect for them. Perfect grades. Well-behaved. I was perfect and they still didn’t want me.”

You turned to Jensen, green guarded eyes carefully looking back. “Jensen, I think you’re a good person and Dee too. But I don’t know how to be a kid. I don’t know how to not think everyone hates me because everyone always has. I’m seventeen years old. I’m too broken to be fixed. We’re better off just saving everyone the trouble and-”

“Can we stop with the bullshit?” You stopped mid sentence, jaw hung open. Meanwhile Jensen shook his head in annoyance. “You ain’t perfect and you never have been. You’ve got a mouth and a stubborn streak and you have never in your life been afraid to give it right back to me. You know what that is? It’s called being a teenager. Broken? Here’s something for you perfect child, you’re grounded for letting those assholes keep winning.”

“What? I have work-”

“You can go to work but I’m having a serious discussion with your managers about the hours you’re keeping which is super illegal for a minor by the way,” he said as he stood, crossing his arms when you glared back. “Be pissed off all you want. I can work with pissed off.”

“I didn’t do anything!” you said, getting up when he started to leave. “Jensen!”

He turned around, his eyes narrowed. “You do not get to let these people have control over you anymore. Fuck every single one of them. You have no idea how amazing you are. How full of love and care you are. In places you don’t want to admit, you know this family loves you. You know your friends care about you, miss you. You aren’t going to sit in this room and wallow about how much life sucks.”

“Jensen, that’s not fair-”

“You promised me you’d try for me,” he said, your jaw snapping shut. “You do not need to succeed but you will always try your best and this girl? Miss I’m too broken? My daughter is better than that. You fail after you try? Fine. But you aren’t trying so you don’t get to quit on this family yet. Understand?”

“But…” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. You looked around the room, your pulse quickening. “You can’t make me. Last night you said I didn’t have to…you said-”

“I know what I said.” He raised his chin, dread curling in your gut. “But you will try.”

“I don’t want any of you!” you shouted, clenching your hands into fists by your sides. “Why won’t you leave me the fuck alone!”

He looked you up and down, a steadiness to him that unnerved you, some of your anger fading. “You can give up on yourself if that’s what you want to do. But I never will.”

“Why do you even-”

“Because that is what dads do, Y/N. I know you don’t understand everything a dad is supposed to do. I get it. I will show you. Dee will show you what a mom does. We will show you.” He put his hands on his hips, your heart caught in your throat. “If you try for us, you don’t have to feel like this every second of every day. We can show you good days, just like we did before. You can have so many good days they’ll outnumber ones like this. But kid, I need you to give it a chance. Now go outside to where the kids are playing so they can welcome you home.”

You grumbled as you went past him, Jensen clearing his throat behind you. “What now?”

“I’d appreciate it if you spent the day with them. They were devastated when you left and-”

“I wouldn’t hurt them,” you snapped back at him.

“Never said you would. You were always amazing with them. I just hope when you go out there you might finally understand that there are people in this world that love you unconditionally. Kids can’t lie about that crap and those three have begged for their big sister to come back every day. So go make their fucking year and maybe they’ll help you not feel so damn shitty for a little while.”

You swallowed when he went past you and turned the corner.

“I’ll try to try,” you whispered.

You heard him hum and part of you hoped it’d really be that simple.

Late Evening

You winced when you sat down on a counter stool after a late shower. You weren’t old but damn, you had more than a few bruises and scrapes after playing outside with the kids all day.

And it’d been the best day you’d had in a long time.

“Don’t pick at that,” said Dee, coming up from the small basement area with a bottle of wine in hand. You moved your hand away from your knee cap, Dee setting the bottle down. “You put some medicine on your scrapes?”

“Yes,” you said, getting up and going to the cabinet with the first aid kit. She hummed behind you, popping open the bottle as you put a few dabs of antiseptic and bandaids on. “Where’s Jensen?”

“A friend from when he was a kid is in town. They’re getting a quick drink. He should be home in an hour or so,” she said.

“I didn’t say I cared.” She inhaled sharply, pouring her drink with a clenched jaw. “I just think it’s funny. You wanted me back so bad and he’s gone after I’ve been here a day? Yeah, I’m feeling all the love over here.”

“Y/N.” She set the bottle down. Hard. She leaned back, gripping the edge of the counter. With a shake of her head, she sighed. “He hasn’t seen this friend in person in nearly a decade and it’ll probably be another before he sees him again. You want to be pissed at someone? Be pissed at me. I’m the one that told him to go.”

“Of course you did.” She looked up, narrowing her eyes. “Oh come on, Danneel. We both know you never loved me. The kids, yeah. Jensen, maybe. But you? You didn’t want me here. He’s the one always reaching out. It’s never you. He’s not home so we don’t have to pretend right now, alright?”

She stood up straight, taking a long sip from her glass with closed eyes.

“Yeah, drink away the problem. That always worked for so many of my other foster moms.” She set the glass down, slowly peeling open her eyes to reveal something…off. It was a look you didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry I didn’t love you instantly like he did. I’m sorry Jensen was smitten the second you walked in that door and it took me a few days to fall in love with you. I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you and that we failed you. But you don’t have the right to be mean-”

“I have every right to be whatever the fuck I want,” you snapped. Her bottom lip wobbled, a sharp pang ripping through your gut you tried to ignore. “You’re sad? Boo hoo. Get over it. I told him more than once already. I don’t want this. I don’t want you. You will never be my parent and when I’m eighteen, I really am gone. So suck it up and stop crying because I really do not care.”

She wrinkled her nose and looked away, tears filling her eyes. After a beat, she took a step back and quietly made her way to her room, closing the door behind her. You sighed, sliding off the counter stool to head towards your room when you froze.

Jensen was standing by the hallway, staring at you, every feature of his face etched with anger.

“I-”

“Don’t.” He walked past you, headed straight for his bedroom.

“She-” Jensen spun on his heels, eyes dark as he bounded across the room in four quick steps to stare you down.

“Go to your room. We are going to have a very serious discussion about what I just heard.”

“I-”

“Room. Now,” he growled. You shrunk away and went quickly to your bedroom, heart in your throat.

Why had you said that? Why the fuck had you said that shit to Dee? Your hands shook as you rushed to your closet. You’d been right all along. Something was wrong with you. No wonder no one wanted you. You were nasty and cruel and god, you had to get out of here and let these people live in peace.

You grabbed your duffel and quietly slipped on a pair of sneakers before you were out the garage door without a sound.

One Hour Later

You weren’t far outside of the neighborhood when you heard a car horn blare. You spun around, swallowing when a black SUV sped up close to you, coming to a hard stop in the road. Jensen got out of the car, storming around the front with a fury you’d only seen once before.

Oh god, he was going to fucking kill you.

“Get in the fucking car!” he shouted. You were frozen where you stood, Jensen ripping the duffel away and taking your arm with his other hand. He tossed the bag in the backseat before giving you a look to do what he said or else. Silently you got inside, Jensen slamming the door shut.

You swallowed when you tried the door and realized he had the childproofing on. Fuck, he never did that before when it was only you in the car. He didn’t want you to run away. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was behind the wheel fast, putting the car in drive. He didn’t head home though. No, he got on the highway and drove out west, out towards the brewery. Out where it was quiet this time of night. The brewery would be closed, no one around.

You were shaking like a leaf when he pulled up in front of the old house on the property. He was quiet, much slower to walk around the car this time. You wouldn’t look at him when he opened the door, taking your arm again. He didn’t say anything as he walked you up the steps into the dark house. He flipped a switch on the wall, a dim hall light and a few others turning on. At the back of the house was an old kitchen, a few wooden chairs sat at a nearby table.

“Sit.” He let go of you, walking to the far side of the room. This was your one and only chance. You bolted out of the room, ripping open the back door. “Y/N!”

You yelped when arms caught you before you could even get off the back porch. Fuck, you thought he wouldn’t be that fast. But you still tried to get free, aware of someone shouting your name over and over.

“Y/N!” Jensen shouted, shaking you once. You blinked away wet tears as you stared up at him, pulse racing as you kept trying to get your wrists out of his steel grip. “Kiddo, stop. What is going on with you?”

“Just fucking do it already,” you breathed out with as much defiance as you could muster which wasn’t a whole lot. Your heart hurt, your body was coming off an adrenaline high and he was too fucking strong. It was all too fucking much.

“Tall munchkin, what are you talking about?” he asked. You jerked on your hands and fresh tears spilled over.

“Just hurt me already. That’s why you brought me out here, isn’t it? So get it over with.”

His face fell so fast you’d have sworn you told him someone had died. He closed his eyes as his grip on you eased, hands moving to your cheeks. He closed his eyes for a long beat, opening them slowly, wiping away your tears. “Oh, baby girl. Do you really think I could ever do that to you?”

You glanced away, body trembling as you fought back the wracking sobs your lungs that were desperate to escape. He kissed the top of your head, murmuring something you couldn’t make out over the pounding in your ears.

“What?” you whispered, eyes fixated on a tree a ways off in the darkness.

“I said it’s okay. I got you.” You glanced up at him, all the rage from before gone, a deep sadness replacing it. He smiled, thumbing away more tears that silently fell. “I’m sorry. I promised I’d keep you safe and I didn’t. You can hate me if that makes you feel better. God knows I hate myself.”

A single crackling heap of air that sounded like a pained cry left your lips, your hands so tight on his wrists you’d leave marks. “Y/N. I’m sorry for making you come back. We should have realized how much we hurt you. We understand if you can’t forgive us…can’t stand us.”

He closed his eyes, breathing hard a few beats. “I will not force you to stay with people you can’t stand. If you want…we can find you a new family…”

Finally he opened his eyes, wet green eyes meeting your own. “I need you to be okay and you’re not with us. I understand. It’s okay. We’ll find you somewhere you can be okay.”

“You’re getting rid of me?” you breathed out, his head shaking. “Yes, you are.”

“Look at yourself,” he said, dropping his hands, your own releasing him when he stepped back. He shrugged, shaking his head. “I was supposed to make your life better. I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to take away the pain, not give you more. You deserve a better father than me.”

“Jensen-”

“You’re still scared of me!” He shouted, waving his hand up and down, wiping off his face with the back of his hand. “You thought I’d hit you? After all this time you still don’t trust me and I don’t blame you. I’m a fuck up that will keep fucking this up. I know you want a family but it doesn’t have to be us. I will find you better, somewhere you can forget about all of the bad homes. You can forget about us. You don’t have to hurt anymore.”

You shook your head, Jensen scoffing, looking over your head. “You ran away again. You keep telling Dee and I how much you don’t want this. We can’t keep doing this every day, Y/N. I won’t force you to be part of a family you don’t want. I shouldn’t have told you that you have to try. I’m sorry.”

You clenched your fists by your sides, blinking through tears that wouldn’t stop, trying to breath through your stuffed up nose and failing. “Y/N, I’m sorry-”

“Stop saying that!” You flung your arms out and pushed him back a step, hands hitting a solid wall of his chest.

“Y/N, you don’t want us-” You pushed him again, Jensen not moving this time. “Y/N! Stop-”

You turned and walked away, hands on your head as you bounded down the back steps.

“Y/N!” You spun around, Jensen a few feet behind you in the grassy yard, your heart breathing hard. “Y/N-”

“I LOVE YOU, YOU FUCKING MORON!” you screamed. He froze, face blank a moment as you looked up to the dark night sky. “I told the DA and the state I wouldn’t sue for all their fuck ups if when you decided to adopt me, the process would happen same day, no waiting. I picked you. I want you.”

“W-why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t Cole?” he asked. You put your back to him, eyes watching the stars above.

“Because I feel like I got stabbed in the heart yesterday and I’ll be bleeding out for the rest of my life. I don’t want adoption unless you want me.” You shuddered when fresh tears started, your throat feeling raw from the choked back sobs.

“But…you know we want you. You know that.” You nodded, feeling him behind you. “If you want us and we want you, what the fuck are we doing out here?”

“This might surprise you but I’m pretty fucked up,” you joked. You lowered your head, wrapping your arms around yourself in the cool night air. “No one’s ever loved me before. I’m so goddamn scared of being loved.”

“Why?” he asked quietly.

“Because what if you change your mind like all the others. There’s no more room inside of me for that and especially not from you.”

“What makes me so special?” he breathed out, resting his hands on your shoulders, tucking your head under his chin.

“I don’t know. I just know that it hurt a hell of a lot more to think you gave me back than to know my birth parents gave me up and I don’t fucking understand why. I’m so mean to you and Dee because if you hurt me like that for real, it’ll kill me. I want you but I’m so scared of that pain coming back. You are the ones that deserve better, not me.”

“And we screwed up so you don’t trust us the way you need to in order to get rid of that fear,” he said. You shook your head, shrugging away from him.

“Jensen,” you said, facing him, the breeze in the air drying your salty tear streaks against your cheeks. “I don’t blame you for not knowing the impossible. That case worker woman was vile. She fucked with me my whole time in foster care. I do not blame you and I hate that you hate yourself for what she did.”

“It doesn’t matter. My job is to protect you and I didn’t. It’s that simple.” You tilted your head, frowning at him. “If we’d stopped her that day we could have been there for you when you found out about her and your birth parents. You wouldn’t feel so alone right now.”

“Yes I would and you know it. Finding out about my birth parents was always going to make me question you and Dee and everything. That kind of pain…” Your gaze went down to your feet for a moment, trailing up to his face eventually. “I was never going to outrun it. It’s something I have to go through alone. You can help but that pain is mine and mine alone to fight through.”

“You shouldn’t ever know that level of pain. No one should,” he said softly. You nodded, the air quiet and still. “I need to let you be in pain I think is what you’re telling me.”

“I’m not looking forward to it either,” you said, closing your eyes. “I got so good at bottling crap up and it’s festering in there. I’ve been trying so hard to stay numb to it all.”

“That’s clearly been working out,” he teased, his foot steps crunching against the dry grass. Heavy arms wrapped around your back, your head dropping to his chest. “Last night you were in shock.”

“I know.”

“I think you have to let yourself feel it all, kiddo. You have to take it and mourn and let the pain in.” You shook your head, his hand dipping under your chin. You swallowed and met his gaze, his green eyes gentle. “You’re scared of being loved? Then let me love you through this. Let me prove that I love all those dark, ugly corners inside of you that you can’t stand. Let me show you I love the worst parts of you as much as the best. You can’t live with this fear and pain forever. So you fight through it and I’ll be by your side while you do. Can we try that?”

“Okay,” you whispered. You shuddered, his hand rubbing up and down your back. “We have a problem.”

“What?” he asked, pressure forming behind your eyes. You screwed your eyes shut to try and stop the wetness but it was coming, your skin prickled up, nerves tingling as the pit your stomach opened up.

“You said nice things and I don’t think I can wait until we get home to have a breakdown,” you whispered, a pang of hurt rippling across your chest. You grimaced, Jensen bending down and picking you up, arms and legs wrapping around him as you clung tight. You trembled, panic crawling through your veins.

They don’t love you. They don’t love you. They don’t love you. No one’s ever loved you.

“Hey, hey,” he said as you sat down inside on the floor of the kitchen against one of the walls. “Breathe for me, tall munchkin. Breathe.”

“W-why didn’t they want me?” you croaked. A large hand tucked you into the crook of his neck, his arms tight across your back and holding you to him. “Why’d they do that to me?”

“I don’t know, baby girl,” he said. You started babbling questions you knew he couldn’t answer, all the while he kept a lock tight grip to keep you close. It was hours later when the tears were long gone and your body exhausted when you finally stopped.

“Jensen,” you mumbled, wearily opening your eyes and met with the mess of his neck and shirt you’d made.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he whispered, head tilted against yours.

“Why do you love me?” you barely got out, throat like sandpaper. He was quiet, chest rising and falling slowly underneath you.

“Those people may have made you but you’re my daughter and I need no reason to love my daughter. All I know is I love her and I will for the rest of eternity so she better get fucking used to it.”

You turned your head up, Jensen lifting his with a tired smile. “How we doing, kiddo?”

“You kept your promise,” you whispered. “About protecting me. Trust me.”

“Okay, kiddo,” he said, your head falling back to his shoulder. “You want to go home?”

You nodded, Jensen grunting as he got his legs underneath himself and managed to stand with you still around him. You hummed your impressment, Jensen chuckling as he walked through the house and hit the switch on the way out.

“We’ll do this as many times as we need to, okay?” You closed your eyes and hummed again. “I’m sorry for scaring you earlier. I just didn’t want you to run off on me before we could talk.”

“S’okay,” you murmured. “Probably a good call.”

“Let’s get you home, sweetie.”

Thirty minutes later Jensen was carrying you inside, kicking off his shoes and pulling yours off your feet before turning the alarm on and turning off the downstairs lights. He didn’t veer left towards your room though. Instead he carried you into his room where Danneel sat in bed with a book and her phone. You wearily raised your head. It was two in the morning. Why wasn’t she asleep?

“M’sorry,” you got out, throat burning again, a wince crossing your face.

“I forgive you,” she said softly as she stood up, tucking your hair behind your ear as Jensen brought you to the bed. She kissed your forehead, sighing gently. “We can talk in the morning.”

“I love you,” you said when Jensen started to move. She smiled, running her hand over your head.

“I love you too,” she said, nodding towards the bed. Jensen set you down in the middle, Danneel pulling the covers over top of you.

Your head had barely hit the pillow before you were out like a light.

You woke up to the sound of a pan clattering somewhere. You looked around the unfamiliar space, quickly registering where exactly you were. The sun was up and a quick glance at the clock showed it was just after seven.

You slowly got out of bed and used the bathroom before leaving their bedroom. Danneel was washing a pan in the sink while Jensen sipped on a cup of coffee and tried to get the twins to eat their breakfast.

“Morning,” you squeaked out, hand going to your throat. You rubbed it, Danneel frowning at you.

“What are you doing up?”

“I have school in thirty minutes,” you said, Jensen shoving a glass of water in front of you that you happily chugged.

“We called school. You finished your exams last week they said and Cole already got you excused these last two days,” said Danneel. “You’re on summer vacation.”

You sat down at the counter and closed your eyes, the sound of a plate set in front of you. You opened them again, Jensen’s plate now yours. He eyed for you to eat and you were honestly still too tired to argue. It hurt a bit to swallow but you got your eggs down by the time Jensen was rushing the kids off to school and daycare.

“Go take a shower and change,” said Danneel, taking your mostly empty plate away.

“Dee.” You paused at the hallway to your room, hearing her stop working in the kitchen.

“Jensen told me about last night. We don’t have to rehash it.” You nodded, putting a hand on the wall. “We’d like to take you on a day trip today if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Where?” you asked.

“Galveston? Have you ever been?” You shook your head. “You’ve never seen the ocean?”

“We only went on one trip when I was a kid and that’s when my birth parents tried to abandon me in the woods.” You shrugged. “Maybe we should go in a few days after JJ graduates kindergarten.”

She smiled and shook her head. “We take lots of trips. We were supposed to go to Canada on your spring break, do you remember?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll go on that one in July when Jensen goes back to work. But today is a trip for us three, okay? The little ones can come another time.”

“Don’t they need-”

“They are taken care of. Now go wash up and pack a bag. We won’t be home until late.”

“What do I bring to the beach?” you asked. She smiled.

“Just go wash up. I’ll pack your things. Don’t worry.”

That Evening

You tilted your head back with a smile, enjoying the warm setting sun on your face as you leaned against the railing of the pier. The cool ocean breeze was a nice contrast to the last traces of heat in the day.

“I didn’t know teenagers were capable of spending the day with their parents for a day without combusting, let alone do it with a smile,” said Jensen beside you. You stuck out your tongue at him, Jensen throwing an arm over your cold shoulders. “Warm enough?”

“I’m a little chilly but I don’t want to leave yet,” you said.

“I will be right back then. Five minutes.” He left your side and headed towards a stand nearby, Danneel looping her arm through yours as she watched the waves with you.

“Did you have a good day?” she asked.

“Yeah.” You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “But this isn’t real life. It’s a vacation. I can’t have your attention all the time.”

“Sweetie, you’re seventeen. I seriously doubt you want our attention all the time.”

“Good point,” you said. “But you and Jensen can’t focus on me. It’s not fair to the little guys.”

“Y/N. Jensen and I are the parents, not you. You will never be a parent to your siblings, understand? You just…be a big sister and you leave the making sure the kids are alright to me and Jay.”

“I’m not used to this. Being cared for. Getting a whole day for me,” you said, smiling when you saw a dolphin far out jump over the water.

“You’ll get used to it. This is just the start.” You nodded when she rested her head on your shoulder. “Someday you’ll struggle to remember what it was like not feeling loved. Just give us time to make it feel normal.”

“I just…feel like it’s a lot for just me. I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

“Love isn’t a barter system. You just do things for the people you love because you love them. Like Jensen buying you an overpriced sweatshirt so you won’t be cold.” You smirked, her hand rubbing up and down your bare arm. “Trust me?”

“Okay,” you whispered, head turning when Jensen approached with a bright royal blue hoodie.

“Alright so I went with blue since I don’t think our daughter is a highlighter pink kind of girl.” You raised your eyebrows, Jensen chuckling as he tugged it on over your head. “Are you about to tell me I misread that?”

“Uh no, I want the blue over the pink for sure,” you said, tugging it down as he fixed the strings. “I just…you said our daughter.”

“I did. Daughter, daughter, daughter, daughter, daughter,” he said, kissing your forehead when you blushed. “I don’t know what to do with her, Dee. She clearly hates being called daughter.”

“Maybe we just keep saying it so our daughter gets used to it?” she asked, wrapping her arm around your waist.

“I think we definitely should for our daughter. What does our daughter think about that, daughter?” said Jensen with a big stupid smile.

“Jesus christ,” you said, rolling your eyes as you bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes lit up though, finger pointing at your face. “What?”

“Daughter smiled,” he grinned.

“I did not-”

“Don’t lie, daughter,” said Dee, Jensen putting you in a headlock when you groaned. “Aw, she’s annoyed with us.”

“Just like a normal family,” he said. You groaned again. “Come on, let’s go find some ice cream around here.”

“There’s a place back that way with a red and white awning,” said a voice in passing. You turned your head to find a guy about your age standing there, a couple guys that looked like his friends walking on ahead of him.

“Well thank you,” said Jensen, trying to walk away with you but you were still looking at this guy with short, fluffy black hair and a UT Austin hoodie.

“Hi,” he said with a smile as you realized he’d been talking to you the whole time.

“Hi,” you said, pushing Jensen’s arm off of you, taking a step closer to him. “Do you go to Austin?”

He glanced down and laughed. “Oh no. I’m going into my senior year of high school. I did a college tour over there last month. They’re my first choice.”

“Same. I want to do their architecture program if I can get in,” you said, the guys eyes lighting up even more.

“Small world. I’m applying for architecture too,” he said, the guys friends coming back, someone whispering something in his ear that had him trying to wave them off.

“Well hopefully we both get in,” you said, stepping closer and holding out your hand. “Can I have your phone?”

He fumbled with it in his pocket for a second before pulling it out. You texted yourself from his phone and handed it back, his shy smile growing by the second. “Text me sometime. We can vent about the application process.”

“S-sure,” he said, taking the phone back. You clasped your hands behind your back, not even a little upset about the weird little flip flops your stomach was doing. “I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so,” you said. “I’m Y/N.”

“TJ,” he said, walking backwards with that stupid grin.

“See you around campus, TJ.”

“You too, Y/N,” he said as you spun around, giving him a little wave behind your back. You walked past Jensen and Dee, humming to yourself.

“Did you see the way they were looking at each other?” whispered Dee.

“Yes,” mumbled Jensen.

“The way she lit up-”

“Yes.”

“Did that remind you of anyone in particular, Jensen?” she said, a smile in her voice.

“Yes,” he sighed. You glanced over your shoulder, raising your eyebrow at them. “She thinks you just met your soulmate.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, right. Sure I did.”

“Jesus christ, she’s going to marry that fucking kid,” said Jensen. You rolled your eyes. “If you saw your face, you’d think so to.”

“He was hot, doesn’t mean anything,” you said, Dee smirking up at Jensen. “Guys.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go find some ice cream.”

It was after midnight when you got home and into bed. The bridge of your nose was sunburnt and you were pretty sure you still smelled like the ocean despite a shower. But it was a good day.

“Hey,” said Jensen, knocking on the doorframe to your room as you climbed under the covers. “Need anything?”

“I’m good,” you said, Jensen setting a glass of water down on your nightstand. “Thanks.”

“You were in the sun a lot today. Drink that before you sleep,” he said, ruffling your hair. You closed your eyes and nodded, flashing them open when he moved away.

“Why’d you and Dee tease me about that guy today?” you asked. He looked worried and you shook your head. “It’s okay. I know I’ve never talked about boys before with you guys but like, I’ve had a boyfriend before. For like a month but still.”

He smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his, thumbing over the sleeve of your new hoodie. “Because for a solid minute there, honey, you weren’t just happy. You were…lighter. We’ve never seen you like that before. You were so forward with him and flirting and that is what I want you to feel with your partner everyday when you are ready for that. It’s very hard to explain that it seemed different than you just thinking a guy was hot. Does that make sense?”

You nodded, putting your free hand on your stomach. “I had butterflies but I’ve had those before. I just…it’s really hard to believe in the idea of soulmates. I want to, you know? The idea that there’s someone out there that’s yours and will love you forever is nice but…I find it hard to believe some guy could ever love me. I mean, you know me. What boy will put up with me questioning them if they love me? I’ll be one of those weird clingy girls and guys don’t like that.”

“Your other half will be your safe place and will love to be that for you. He will love to tell you how much he loves you and he will be so good at it, you won’t doubt him. That is the man you will marry. You will never settle for any other man than one that loves you and you will know, tall munchkin. You’ll know who he is when you meet him.”

“How do you know, though?” You asked. Jensen chuckled.

“I’m going to let you figure that one out for yourself when you’re older,” he said, leaning in. “But do text that boy first when you’re ready. If he’s anything like me, he’ls going to need you to make the first move.”

“You think I’m that brave?” you scoffed. “Me?”

“Kid, you literally pushed me away to go talk to some random boy. I don’t know what that was but that boy is meant to be somebody in your life,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “Do me a favor though. Focus on you first for awhile, not boyfriends. Deal?”

“Deal.” He got up, pausing when he watched you part your lips.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Thanks, for today. I’ve never built a sandcastle or been on a jet ski or eaten seafood or just…had a day like that.”

“You’ll have more like it, promise. Get some sleep now.”

“I…” you said before he could leave, Jensen cocking his head down. “There’s a part of me that’s still scared, that I don’t fit here. I know I shouldn’t but I might…I might still…I don’t want to be a brat again. I don’t. But I’m scared I’ll wake up tomorrow and you'll change your mind.”

“Y/N.” He looked down, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Dee and I called Cole this morning to start the process for you to be adopted. By the end of the week we should be in front of a judge and make it official.”

“You want to…” He nodded. “Why now?”

“We always wanted you. The paperwork has been filled out since the first day we met you.” Your eyes went wide, Jensen sighing. “We wanted adoption to be the last step after you knew we loved you and we knew you loved us. It wasn’t supposed to be a bandaid to get you there. We know you’re shaky still because of your birth parents and there’s fresh scars there we have to work through. But I know you. I know you want us and we want you. So let’s make you ours and we’ll work on healing those new scars.”

“I-I’m getting adopted this week?” you asked, Jensen smiling.

“JJ graduates on Wednesday and we’re having a party for her afterwards. Is Friday too far away?” You shook your head. “We’ll go to the store tomorrow, find you a dress or whatever you want to wear for it.”

“Okay,” you whispered. He ran his hand over your head, leaning down to kiss the top of it. You pressed your hands to your eyes, trying to stop the pressure behind them trying to build.

“You do want this, don’t you?” he asked. You nodded, feeling the air shift. Your hands were gently pulled away, Jensen kneeling before you. “Hey. You never have to hide your tears from me.”

“It just doesn’t feel real. Good things don’t happen to me.” He held your hands, trying to hide his worry. “Are you really sure?”

“We lost you once. We’re not losing you again. End of story.” You closed your eyes, smiling as he pulled you into a hug. “And to be clear, you keep calling me and Dee whatever you want to. You do not have to call us mom and dad. Ever. Okay?”

“You worry too much,” you whispered, hugging him hard. He let out a huff, chuckling through it. “I wish I was born here.”

“Me too. I would have loved to teach you so much.” You laughed, leaning back to catch his curious eyes.

“There’s still things you can…like maybe tomorrow you can show me how to ride a bike?” you asked. His eyes lit up at that information. “I know I should know by now but no one…I realized the assholes didn’t teach me a lot-”

“We will teach you everything you want to know,” he said, getting to his feet and kissing your forehead. “Starting with the bike tomorrow. Now drink your water and I want you to sleep in tomorrow. You haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scooted back against the pillows and he grabbed your blanket from the chair in the corner to toss over you. “I swear I’ll never run away again. I’m sorry. You and Dee need to have a good night’s sleep too.”

“I trust you, tall munchkin.” He pointed at the glass and you took a big chug, Jensen humming. “Come get us if you need anything.”

“Goodnight,” you said, setting the glass aside and laying down.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Friday Night

Jensen stood up from his seat around the table on the back porch where most of the family was congregated. “Alright. I’m going to go get the firepit started. Y/N, come watch and learn.”

You shoveled down the rest of your cake and wiped off your hands as you trotted down the stairs after him. “Are you sure this is about the firepit and not giving me some kind of present? Cause you’ve been trying to get me alone for like, an hour.”

“We already got you presents. The new bike for my incredible prodigy-”

“Am I prodigy if we spent thirty minutes watching youtube videos first?” He ignored you, tossing his arm over your shoulder as you walked across the grass towards the back patio deck in the corner.

“You already got your presents for the day,” he said.

“Yeah, stuff I didn’t ask for in the first place. Having…this is more than enough,” you said, gesturing towards him and back at the house.

“I know. It actually makes it incredibly difficult to find gifts for you,” he teased, letting you go when you got to the pit. He flicked the pocket of your galveston hoodie you wore, your head darting down at the thwacking sound. “Hm. Sound like something’s in there.”

“Did you just reverse pick-pocket me?” you said, reaching inside and pulling out an envelope.

“Why don’t you go take a seat and read that while I get the fire going?” he said, pointing to a far off chair. You raised and eyebrow but left him, instead choosing to hop up on top of the railing. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you asked, tearing it open.

“There’s some things in there that are different now but the message is the same. Remember that.”

“Okay…” you said, taking out the sheets, pausing when you saw the date in the top corner. “This is from the first day I was ever here, last December.”

“I might have written that awhile ago.” You stared at him, Jensen tilting his head. “You read that and we never have to talk about it again and when you’re ready, we’ll invite everybody down here, alright?”

“What is this?” you asked, spotting an 18 on the envelope.

“I…write letters to my children…for their big life events…some I’ve already written, some I haven’t yet. That was supposed to be your letter for your eighteenth birthday. I always thought with how long adoption takes…it’d be around that time when we had been able to do that for you. Today felt fitting for it.” He put his back to you and started to fiddle with a switch on the stone wall, flames coming up from the gas fire pit. He simply stood there, watching it, ignoring your stares.

After a moment you straightened out the papers and started to read.

Hi kiddo. So today’s your first day here. It’s getting pretty late. I just checked and you’re passed out in your room. I’m taking that as a good sign. I know today was stressful for you, stressful for all of us. It certainly hasn’t turned out like I expected. I never expected you to be any sort of way really. But you kind of broke my heart earlier. It’s alright. It’s part of being a dad. It’s nothing you even did. I see how afraid you are, how closed off you are. You told me not to bother with you.

Y/N, you’re out of your fucking mind if you think for one second I’m not going to fight every single day to prove you wrong. You are worth a family, sweetie. You are so worth it. Dee and I talked about you quite a bit after you went to bed. We’re going to adopt the shit out of you someday. Hopefully by the time you get this, we already have or at least you know we’re going to.

I don’t need that piece of paper to know how I feel. We’ll get it someday, I promise you that. But I don’t need it. I don’t need a piece of paper to call you my daughter.

I know you’re probably thinking, Jensen, you’re nuts. You barely knew me for five hours! How did you know you wanted to adopt me?

Well, Y/N, here’s the thing. Before I opened that front door today, I didn’t. I wanted desperately for you to be part of this family. I certainly never expected to know right away. You know, I’ve only known I loved someone unconditionally like that three other times in my life. You may know them as your siblings. Even with Dee, I fell hard for her but not so fast.

It scares the shit out of me to be honest. You’ll learn in time that while I’m big and tall and strong, I’m a wimp when it comes to this stuff. I got a lot of friends, but there’s only a few I let in close like that. I get scared of getting hurt too. I’m shy and quiet unless I feel comfortable around whoever I’m with. I force myself to not be like that around people sometimes but I don’t have to force a thing with you. So yeah, it’s only been a little while. I know we got a lot ahead of us to deal with.

I know I love you too, kiddo. I’m not your birth dad. I didn’t teach you to ride a bike or swing a baseball bat or take you to your first day of school.

But you’re my daughter and I’ll never give a damn that we don’t share blood or the fact I didn’t make you. You’re ours and we’re yours and no one will ever tell me otherwise.

I’ll always be your dad, no matter how big you get. You lost a lot of opportunities to be a kid. I know that and I wish I could give them back. But I’ll do what I can. You can be embarrassed of me or think I’m a dork. That’s okay. I want to give you as much as possible.

Just because you’re growing up doesn’t mean any of that will ever stop either. I will still be dad and still ask you to let me know you got home safe when you’re my age so get used to it. I know it’ll only have been about a year. I know it won’t be perfect. I know we’ll have had hard days by now and we’ll keep having them.

But as long as you’re safe, as long as you’re happy, as long as you give us a chance, that’ll be more than enough for me. You’re strong, Y/N. I am proud of you for how amazing you’ve done in life all on your own. Maybe it seems stupid to you but I am proud. You were your own parent and I’m sorry. No one should have to raise themselves. But you did a damn good job of it. Let us take over from here. You rest and be a kid again.

Allow yourself to feel loved again, honey. We won’t hurt you. We never will.

By the time you see this, I hope you know all of this already. I hope none of this comes as a surprise. We love you. I love you. I think you know we’re different already. I saw it tonight when I told you I was going to prove you wrong. No one’s cared about you like that in a long time.

Your parents care. Cole cares. We care. There’s going to be even more people that come into your life that care about you. I’m so very honored to get to be one of them. It won’t be easy. But that’s okay. I will never stop showing you that you are worth every bit of love you get around here and beyond it.

I love you.

Also, you snore a little and that’s so flippin’ adorable.

I don’t know how to end this so welcome home, Y/N and Happy 18th Birthday, kiddo.

Love,

Dad

You wiped off your face with your sleeve, a shaky breath escaping your lips. Carefully, you tucked the letter back into the envelope, holding it against your chest.

“Why didn’t you give me this sooner?” you whispered. You heard the deck creak behind you.

“You wouldn’t have believed me.” You closed your eyes, chest tight.

“Sunday night…you said you’d find me another family if that’s what I wanted. Even when you loved me all this time.”

“When you love someone, really love them, all you want is for them to be happy. I’d do anything to make you happy, kiddo, even if it hurts me. That’s what parents do.”

You tucked the envelope into the kangaroo pocket of your hoodie, slowly wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I don’t want you to feel bad about Sunday. We don’t have to talk about that letter ever again either. All I wanted to do was give you a reminder for when I’m not around that we love you so damn much.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as your eyes opened, glancing right to find him at your side. Warm green eyes met yours, his smile soft. He wiped your cheeks with the cuff of his shirt sleeve, turning your head when you tried to shy away. “Hey. Look at me.”

You looked up, soft fleece touching under your eyes and then dabbing over your wet lashes. You blinked a few times, swallowing thickly. All he did was smile though. “Why are you washing my face?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wiped away one of my kids tears and it won’t be the last.”

“But why me? I’m not a little kid,” you whispered. He cocked his head, swiping down your neck before cupping your cheek.

“Because you’ll always be my kid and dad’s take care of their kids. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you. I promise.” You nodded, his hand dropping. “I’m sorry about the letter-”

“No.” You placed your hands over the pocket, the envelope crinkling. “I loved it.”

“It made you cry.”

“They weren’t sad tears,” you whispered. He took a moment to clear his throat, leaning against the railing. He lowered his head, breathing deeply. “Will you write me more letters?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, turning to you with a smile. “I’ll write you more letters. I just thought you didn’t like the way I ended it.”

“I don’t snore,” you said, getting a laugh out of him. “I don’t.”

“Yes you do but they’re tiny baby snores. It’s cute,” he said, looking down again. “I meant the dad thing.”

“You call yourself that all the time.” He sighed, straightening up.

“I know. But that’s not a title I’ve earned with you. I just…” he closed his eyes, shoulders tensing.

“That was my favorite part.” He turned slowly, blinking his eyes rapidly. You shrugged, a small whisper of a smile forming on your lips. “Why the hell wouldn’t I love when you tell me you love me?”

“I can love you as Jensen. You never, ever, have to call me anything other than that and it doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you.”

You nodded, looking out at the dark river beyond. The air was quiet, Jensen still, at ease next to you.

“We should invite everyone down here before they wonder what the hell’s going on,” you said. You felt him start to turn, your hand catching his arm. He looked down at it before finding your face. You smiled, taking a deep breath. “Can you bring down stuff for smores?”

“I can do that,” he said, getting a half step away.

“Dad,” you said, glancing over your shoulder, his whole body freezing. He spun around, surprise written all over his face. You grinned wider, tilting your head at him. “Don’t forget the napkins this time.”

“Right. Napkins.” He blinked a few times, glancing at the house and then you. “Are you sure-”

“Dad. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He held up his hands. “I’m serious.”

“Alright. Smores coming right up.”

You woke up early the next day, padding down the hall and finding Jensen and Danneel sitting on the covered back porch with mugs of coffee in front of them. With a yawn, you saw him wave you over and grumbled. You’d taken to drinking coffee the past few months when you started working so much and had developed a craving for it in the mornings.

“Morning,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the table and stealing the closest cup to you. You took a big, slow gulp, humming to yourself.

“I need that more than you do,” said Jensen, taking the mug back, taking a drink. “Sleep okay?”

You nodded, rubbing your eye when Danneel leaned over and gave you a side hug. “Can we be normal again guys? I get yesterday was a big deal but I just want to go back to being Y/N.”

“We’re huggers,” he said as she squeezed tighter. “Speaking of which, we have one last present for you, from my parents. They asked us to give it to you privately. Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

You raised an eyebrow, Danneel releasing you only to reach across the table and tug over a blue bag. “Go on.”

With a roll of your eyes, you reached in the bag and pulled out a picture frame. Turning it over, you saw a slightly grainy image of you as a toddler, maybe three years old at most. Except the other person in the picture, the person who’s hip you were sat on as you clung your tiny arms around their neck, was a young Jensen of all people.

You snapped your eyes over to him, a silly look on his face. “What is this?”

“When Jensen was in his twenties, they went on a family trip to disney world,” said Dee, hugging your side again. “When he was at the airport, there was a lost little girl and he helped her. Do you remember that at all?”

You titled your head, staring at him, eyes widening briefly. “You? T-That was you?”

“My mom was going through some old home movies and found footage from when that happened a while ago. She only told me last night and gave me a picture like that too. She thinks it’s a sign.”

“It is a sign,” said Danneel, your gaze going back to the picture. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

“Y/N, if I had somehow known back then what your future was…” You nodded, offering him a smile. “I wish I’d known and could have been there for you.”

“S’okay,” you said quietly, smirking at the picture. “Like mom said, I’m where I’m supposed to be now.”

“Exactly,” she said, your arms wrapping around her waist as she hugged you tight. You felt another pair of arms wrap around you both and squeeze. “So, did you text that boy from the pier yet?”

“Uh, actually yeah,” you said, heat creeping into your face. “He’s from Dallas. He seems nice.”

Thankfully they dropped it when there was a crash in the house and JJ came rushing over, covered in milk. Dee sighed and scooped her up, you and Jensen following behind to clean up the floor.

“Y/N,” he said as you used a roll of paper towels to soak up the half gallon splashed across the floor. You hummed, glancing up when you noticed he’d stopped cleaning. “I’m going to say this once and only once because I trust you. The person you end up with, make sure they’re a good one. I don’t want you to end up with an asshole who only tells you what you want to hear.”

“I won’t. I’ve got a pretty good example of how the guy I end up with should treat me.” You continued to clean up, shaking your head. “Besides, there’s no way that I end up with that TJ guy. Like zero chance.”

“That why you keep staring at your phone with a stupid smile on your face whenever you get a text?” You growled, Jensen chuckling. “Oh come on, I can’t tease you about boys? This is too much fun for me.”

“Dad,” you groaned. He only beamed though, smiling as you rolled your eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yup. Just remember you picked us dorks.” You glanced over at him, a tiny sliver of a smile coming through. “Too late to change your mind now.”

“You’re alright for an old guy,” you teased.

“Just alright?” he asked. You shrugged.

“Maybe a little more than alright,” you said, getting a head ruffle, stilling when you realized he’d just gotten milk all in your hair. “Dude! Gross!”

“I love you too, kiddo.”

__________

A/N: Let me know what you thought of this part with a comment or reblog as I'm very interested!

#supernatural #spn #Jensen ackles #Jensen ackles x foster daughter!reader #Jensen ackles x daughter!reader #Jensen ackles au #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fanfiction

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