#I just want my children and their father back

[justmymindandstuff]

Hello I have a request for you: can you please please please write jealousCregan again? Maybe he is jealous of Jace because he thinks he can not compete with a prince

Sunrays and Snowflakes - Cregan Stark x MartellReader

summary: Jacaerys comes to Winterfell to secure the North for Queen Rhaenyra. He is greeted warmly and friendly. But Cregan doesn't like how friendly Jace is with his wife. But what can he say? You are a princess and he is a prince. Maybe this is the match you deserve.

words: 6.425

warnings: jealousy, self-doubt, miscommunication, fluff

a/n: of course I will write jealous Creagn again. Thank you so much for your ask anon. Hope you like it.

English is not my first language // not proofread // Ao3 // no use of Y/N

requests are open // main- masterlist // HotD - masterlist

You stand in the courtyard of Winterfell. Cold wind and snowflakes swirl around you. Nevertheless, you are not freezing. Your husband has made sure that you are always dressed in warm fur coats and thick fabrics.

When you first arrived in Winterfell, you froze for weeks. You grew up under the hot sun, in deserts, water gardens, and heat. Winterfell is the complete opposite.

Nevertheless, you are happy here. You never would have thought that you could be happy here in the cold North. This macgt began purely politically. After the death of his first wife in childbirth, the Lord of Winterfell needed a new wife. To have another heir, just in case. For House Stark.

Your family needed allies in the seven Kingdomes. To secure independence from the Iron Throne. For House Martell.

So ravens were sent back and forth, and shortly after, you were on your way to Winterfell to marry Lord Stark. A Dornish princess for the North.

It was not easy for you to adjust. Cregan had been distant at first, but quickly thawed out. Not even three months into your marriage, it was no longer a political marriage, but love.

Your stepson Rickon is the apple of your eye. A nice, well-mannered, friendly boy, just four years old, but already behaving like an honorable Lord. At least that's what you think, but you are his stepmother after all.

Excited, he stands next to you and watches the sky. His small hand in yours. He wants to see the prince's dragon. Of course, it's all terribly exciting for him.

"Do you think I can pet the dragon?"

Cold fear runs down your spine at the thought of your little boy approaching a fire-breathing monster. Nevertheless, you smile at him before responding.

"You'll have to ask the prince about that."

Heavy footsteps behind you reveal your husband before you hear his voice. "As far as I've heard, the prince is very friendly so don't be afraid to ask."

Cregan places his hand on your lower back as he stands next to you. A smile immediately appears on your face, and you lean slightly into your husband's arms. For a moment, you simply enjoy being with your little family.

"He is a prince just like you are a princess, right?" asks Rickon with the curiosity that only children have.

"Exactly."

"Why didn't you marry a prince instead of father?"

Cregan looks at his son. His jaw tightens slightly, as it always does when he is angry. But you can only laugh and squeeze Rickon's hand.

"I don't need a prince." you say then.

A restlessness spreads among the guards on Winterfell's walls, and immediately Rickon turns his attention back to the sky.

You notice how Cregan tenses slightly next to you. The next few days, the negotiations with the prince, will seal the fate of your house in this Targaryen war. He must now sovereignly fulfill the role of the Lord.You don’t doubt for a second that he will be successful with this task and lead your family out of this crisis.

You stand on your tiptoes and press a kiss on his cold cheek. You want to say something else, but a shadow flies over you. You look up and see a dragon circling above the courtyard. You are almost relieved when you see the dragon, you had feared it would be larger.Nevertheless, the ground trembles slightly as the dragon lands. Prince Jacaerys slips out of the saddle and lands firmly on the ground.

You sink into a curtsy while your husband and your stepson bow.

"Welcome to Winterfell. It is an honor for me and my family to welcome you here."

You straighten up again and look at the prince closely. Dark curls, tousled by the wind. Noble clothing in the colors of his house, red and black. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the wind and the cold, a friendly smile on his face.

"The honor is on my side, Lord Stark. I am grateful that you are receiving me."

You can hear in his voice that he is unsure, but he is trying to hide it. For a moment, their silence lingers. Jacaerys shifts nervously from one foot to the other.

"You must be cold, my prince. Please come inside, we have warm food and drinks prepared." you say with a gesture towards the castle, fully in your role as Lady Stark.

The prince nods and says a word in a language you don't understand. The dragon behind him takes to the air again and flies away.

"He won't attack any people, will he?"" asks Cregan, his voice controlled but worried.

The prince begins to laugh but quickly becomes serious again at a glance into your husband's face. "No. Of course not. Vermax hunts exclusively venison. Even your farmers' cattle is safe. Should it still occur, House Targaryen is, of course, ready to pay compensation."

You immediately recognize that he has memorized this. Cregan nods, he is not yet fully convinced. Tension runs through his shoulders. Quickly, you force a smile onto your lips.

"Your words reassured us. Thank you my Prince." you say, giving Cregan's hand a light squeeze.

Together, you go inside. The halls of Winterfell are warm. A nursemaid takes Rickon while the Prince, Cregan, and you make your way to the great hall. There, bread and salt are first shared before the servants bring warm soup, meat, wine, and beer.

Jacaerys' insecurity falls away a little and he seems to relax. It calms you a little as well. The Targaryens and the Martells have had a rather tense relationship for a long time. It follows from the unwillingness of your people to bend the knee before the Conqueror and the subsequent dragon attacks. You cannot focus on the past now but must support your husband and the North. So you greet Jacaerys with emphasized friendliness while the usual pleasantries are exchanged. Jacaerys praises the beauty of Winterfell, Cregan asks if his journey was pleasant. However, you notice that the longer the meal goes on, the more nervous the prince becomes.

"You surely know by now what has brought me so far north," he begins after the last course is finished.

"The news of your war has reached us, yes," Cregan replies. You place your hand on his thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. Show him your support.

"My mother's birthright was stolen from her." Jacaerys begins, sounding as if he has rehearsed it again.

"One might see it that way." you respond as diplomatically as possible. You don't want Cregan to go to war for the queen. You want him here with you in Winterfell and far away from the battlefield. The mood is a bit tense again. Jacaerys looks at you for a moment. His gaze is uncomfortable for you. Nevertheless, you smile.

"You want my armies and support for your mother's claim." Cregan's words are a statement, not a question.

Jacaerys nods. "Lady Arryn from the Vale has ..."

Cregan raises his hand to interrupt him. "It is of no importance what Lady Arryn promised."

"House Stark swore an oath. An oath of loyalty to the Iron Throne."

"I know. But House Stark also swore an oath to protect the people of the realm. And this oath is a thousand years older than the one made to your ancestor, the Conqueror."

Jacaerys looks at Cregan, confused. "I don't understand, my Lord Stark."

"It's hard to explain. Accompany me to the Wall. Then we'll continue talking about oath and armies."

The prince hesitates for a moment, then he nods."Fine."

"Good, now that that's settled, my prince," you begin, giving him one of your wider smiles. You want to dissolve the tense atmosphere. "We have prepared a small celebration this evening to properly honor your visit. You probably want to rest beforehand. Your journey was long and arduous."

"Yes, of course, thank you, Princess."

"A servant will show you to your guest chambers." says Cregan, already beckoning a servant over.

"I will take care of that. It is an honor and my duty as Lady Stark to host our guests, husband."

Cregan glances briefly at you, then at the prince. He nods. "Fine."

You rise, kiss his cheek, and then turn to the prince. "Please follow me."

He gets up and you accompany him through the halls of your home to the guest chambers. You both remain silent, but you can hardly bear the tense atmosphere.

"My husband doesn't mean any harm. It´s just that is duties as Lord of Winterfell are very important to him."

"I understand, Princess."

You can understand that he feels rejected about the postponement of the negotiations. "The war, however, is of great importance for the future of the kingdom."

"Of course."

"It probably doesn't interest you.House Martell is, after all, independent."

You're trying not to let the insult, which lingers in his tone, get to you and instead smile politely.

"House Martell, perhaps. But House Stark is my family. We keep our vows."

Jacaerys suddenly stops. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry. I'm just." he interrupts himself.

"I can understand that it is a difficult situation. Your house was certainly not prepared for a war against your own blood."

"No, we weren't," he admits. "I don't have much practice being an envoy."

"You are doing well. Come now, my prince. Everything will surely be fine. Have faith in the oaths of the Lords. They all knelt before your mother and swore loyalty."

Jacaerys nods and smiles slightly. "Yes, I'll try."

Winterfell is showing itself form his best side. The great hall is filled with laughter and music. The food was exquisite. Jacaerys followed your husband's invitation and left his honored seat at the high table to walk beside Cregan through the great hall and speak with the bannermen of House Stark. The mood is good. People are dancing, and for this evening, you can also forget the looming danger. The wine tastes you a little too good today, the warm air in the hall doesn't help, and you notice your mind becoming slightly hazy as the wine takes effect.

You are engrossed in a conversation with Lady Mormont and your cousin Elisan Sand when the prince approaches you. "Princess. A dance?" he asks. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the wine, and he smiles kindly.

"Of course, my prince."

You stand up and let Jacaerys lead you to the dance floor. He leads you through the dance steps elegantly.

"I would like to thank you," he begins. His steps are confident. You have to think for a second about your first dance with your husband. He stepped on your feet three times back then. Even after all the years of your marriage, you couldn't turn Cregan into a dancer. No matter how much you love to dance, your husband rarely joins you on the dance floor. Only in the privacy of your chambers, without an audience, does he sway you to the music.

"For what?"

"Your words this noon. Your trust in your husband and in the oaths of the Lords have reassured me a little."

"The realm would fall apart if Lords did not remember their oaths," you say confidently. The Lords of the Seven Kingdoms cannot be so foolish as to risk a civil war among the dragons. The dispute over the throne would surely be over quickly. Who will supports a usurper?

"I hope so." says the prince. "Still, thank you Lady Stark or Princess. What do you prefer?"

"My name."

He says your name as if to try it on his tongue. "Under one condition, princess." a smile flickers across his lips as he sees your confused look.

"Which one, my prince?"

"Call me Jace."

"Jace it is."

He smiles at you. You wouldn't have expected this kind of kindness from him. At least not towards you. When you look at the history of your families, there has always been nothing but bad blood. But neither Jace nor you seem to care about the past. While you dance, you fall into a pleasant conversation. You are surprised by his sharp mind and friendly demeanor. He is well-read, clever, witty, and charming. In addition, his dance steps are confident and elegant. Jace is not at all the spoiled prince you had imagined. He elicits laughter from you with a few of his jokes, the wine you've drunk contributes, and you join in on his banter. You give him a few clever remarks on his jokes, which makes him laugh. He laughs openly and warmly, so you can't help but laugh along with him. Jacaerys spins you around a few times to the music before pulling you back into his arms. His hand lands a little too low on your lower back, but before you can say anything, he corrects his grip upwards. His cheeks turn a little redder, but you decide to ignore the little accident. Before you can resume your conversation, you are suddenly pulled away from Jace. The tight grip is almost painful. Immediately, you tense up and are about to complain, but the sound of your husband's voice reaches your ears. A smile immediately appears on your lips, the sound of his voice is enough to make your heart beat faster. Sometimes you feel sick of yourself because you love your husband so much that your thoughts are cheesy and full of love.

"You excus, my prince?" Cregan reaches for your hand before Jacaerys can respond.

"Of course." he gives you a slight nod and then leaves the dance floor.

You smile at your husband as you begin to dance. He still seems slightly tense.

"Have you spoken with your bannermen?"

"Yes," he replies shortly.

"They are not thrilled about the prospect of going to war."

"Of course not. Winter is coming. It's not time for war."

You almost have to sigh. Winter always comes. "The prince will surely understand if you can't provide him with any or only a few men."

"I honestly doubt that." his voice is unusually cold. "I just hope he won't burn Winterfell down with his dragon if we really turn him down."

"He wouldn't do that," you say confidently.

"Seems like you know him well already." his jaw tightens and he avoids your gaze. You furrow your eyebrows at his unusual behavior. Cregan is a serious man, but he is not suspicious. He trusts a man's word. Because he always keeps his word. That's how the Stark men are, it's in their blood.

The song ends, but instead of leading you through the next dance, Cregan steps back. He gives you a brief nod.

"I still have to talk with a few Lords." he turns away and just leaves you standing there. He didn't even give you a kiss. Confused, you stand still for a moment before leaving the dance floor. Actually, you would like to dance with your husband a little longer, but you can also understand that he has duties to fulfill.

Your gaze sweeps through the hall. Jace is already dancing again. This time with your sister-in-law Sara.

You are surprised to see her here. Normally, she stays away from such feasts, she doesn't like the looks and the whispers that come with her status as Snow, a bastard from the North. Here in the North, bastards are despised. At your home, it's different. You never had a problem with Sara being a Snow and not a Stark and love her like a sister.

You return to your seat and take another cup of wine. Quickly, you find yourself drawn back into a conversation with Lord Karstark and Lady Pole, so much so that you don't even notice how time flies. Only when you interrupt yourself for the second time in a sentence to yawn you decide that the evening is over for you now. You look around for your husband to let him know that you will be withdrawing. But you can't find him. Confused, you beckon a guard over.

"Where is my husband?"

"Lord Stark has already retired."

Without telling you? That's more than unusual. Once again, you are puzzled by his strange behavior. Nevertheless, you smile at the guard and send him back to his duties. Then you stand up and clap your hands. Immediately, the music falls silent and all attention is on you.

"I will now withdraw. I thank you all for your presence and the kindness with which you welcomed Prince Jacaerys here in Winterfell. Please, drink, dance, and continue to enjoy yourselves. I wish you a pleasant night, my Lords and Ladies."

The attendees, except for Jace, bow to you and you make your way out of the great hall. The door is not yet fully closed when the music starts again and the room is once more filled with loud voices and laughter.

You shiver slightly as the cold air surrounds you and quickly make your way back to your chambers. You are worried. Has something happened that required Cregan's attention and he left the feast because of it? Where could he be? Why didn't he let you know?

As you enter your chambers, you realize that your worry was unfounded. Your husband is already in bed. The chambers are dark, only a single candle still burns on your side of the bed. Cregan lies with his face turned away from you, his breath steady.

"Are you awake, Love?" you ask, but get no response. You quietly slip out of your dress and then into bed. The furs are cold, and you shiver again. You are used to falling asleep in Cregan's warm embrace. It takes a long time for sleep to find you.

When you wake up the next morning, the other side of the bed is empty. You stroke the furs on Cregan's side of the bed. They are already cold. You sigh. Why is he acting so strangely? Where is he? Normally, you wake up together, usually stay in bed for a while longer, cuddle and enjoy the morning together for as long as possible before your duties pull you apart.

A strange feeling spreads within you. You push it aside and swing yourself out of bed. You long for your husband. Nevertheless, you call your maid to help you get dressed and make your way to the nursery to pick up Rickon to break the fast with him.

All morning you have been busy with your duties. Rickon is sitting nearby with his nanny and plays. He keeps asking impatiently when you will finally have time for him. You promised him that today you would go with him to the prince and ask if he could pet the dragon, Vermo,or something like this.

Finally, all the important things are done, and you turn to the little Stark.

"Shall we look for the prince?"

His toys are immediately forgotten, and he runs to you. "Yes, Mother."

Cregan had allowed Rickon to call you that as long as he swore not to forget his real mother. You make sure that Rickon visits the crypt regularly. You also haven't dismissed the friends and ladies of the former Lady Stark from the household. You want to make sure that Rickon grows up with stories of his real mother, from people who truly knew her.

You drape a cloak over him before reaching for your own. For a moment, your fingertips hover over the silver buckle with the direwolf. Once again, you are overcome with longing for your husband. You haven't seen him all morning. That is also unusual. Is he so preoccupied with Jace's visit? Why doesn't he share his worries with you like he usually does?

You take Rickon by the hand and make your way to the guest chambers. There you meet Jace. He greets you with a friendly smile.

"What can I do for you?" he asks.

You gently nudge Rickon and smile encouragingly at him so that he gathers his courage. "Prince Jacaerys. I wanted to ask if I could maybe pet your dragon?" asks Rickon with red cheeks and then shyly hides behind your leg.

Jace kneels down to be at eye level with the little Stark. He smiles warmly. "Of course. Come on, Vermax will surely be happy to have visitors."

Rickon's eyes begin to shine, and he lets go of your hand to run ahead. Jace holds out his arm to you, and together you follow Rickon into the courtyard. So his name is Vermax, you weren't so far off with Vermo after all.

"Vermax hasn't been spotted by the guards. How do you know where he is?" you ask curiously. The hatred between your families has made you ignore everything there is to know about Targaryen and their dragons. That might have been a mistake.

"We share a bond. I can feel him just as he can feel me. I can call him and he will come."

The prince is right, only a few minutes after you enter the courtyard, Vermax lands in front of you.

Jace says a few Valyrian words to him, the dragon makes a whistling sound that resembles a melody before it blows smoke from its nostrils. Jace laughs happily and strokes the scaly monster. You recognize strong affection in his gaze. It surprises you. You always thought the dragons were a means to an end for the Targaryens. A weapon to oppress the people and to justify and secure their claim of power. You were obviously wrong.

Rickon jumps up and down next to you. His gaze is glued to Vermax, and he tugs at your skirt. "May I go to him?"

"Jace?" you ask a little uncertainly. The thought of the little one strokes the dragon definitely makes your stomach turn. But Rickon hasn't talked about anything else for days. You don't want to spoil his joy, so you keep your worries to yourself. The little one doesn't understand how dangerous the dragon actually is. He could easily destroy Winterfell.

Jace turns away from his dragon and reaches out his hand to Rickon.

"Come here. No need for fear."

"I am not afraid," he says, but his voice trembles slightly. Little liar, you think to yourself. Nevertheless, Rickon goes to Jace and reaches for his hand. Slowly, the two approach the dragon. Vermax seems to be completely calm, yet you are tense. A snap and Rickon could be seriously injured or even die. You would personally snap Jace's neck if he endangered the boy.

Jace says something to Rickon, he nods and slowly reaches out his hand. When his small hand touches the scales on the dragon's nose, it squeaks excitedly and he quickly pulls it back. "He feels warm." he exclaims, turning to you. His eyes sparkle with excitement and his smile is so wide and cheerful that despite your worry, you can't help but smile too. "Come on Mother, pet him too." Uncertain, you look at Jace. He nods encouragingly at you.

Slowly, you walk towards the dragon. As you stretch out your hand, it trembles slightly. Vermax whips his head around and you flinch back in shock. Rickon giggles joyfully, his fear seems to have vanished.

"May I?" asks Jace, nodding towards your hand. You hesitate for a moment but then nod. Jace reaches for your hand and gently places it on Vermax's nose. You can feel the warmth of his scales even through your glove. For a moment, you hesitate, then you stroke the dragon. Excitement floods through you and you have to laugh. You are petting a dragon. Probably the first person from House Martell to ever pet a dragon. But when Vermax lets out a growl, you quickly step back. You don't want to push your luck.

Rickon pulls on Jace's cloak. "How often do you ride him? How does it feel? Do you have a fear of heights when you fly? Is the saddle comfortable?" he bombards him with questions. Jace and you both chuckle lightly, then the prince kneels again to be at eye level with Rickon.

"I fly with him at every opportunity I get. It is incredibly fun to fly, and no, I am not afraid of heights. As for the saddle, there are more comfortable seats but I'm not complaining." he answers patiently to every question.

"Can I sit on it too?"

Jace looks at you at this question. Uncertain, you shrug your shoulders. You are not sure if Cregan would like it if his son goes this close to the dragon.

"Sure, but it's not my permission that counts."

"Please, please, Mother." Rickon begs, and at the look from his large dark eyes that he inherited from his father, you weaken.

"But only for a short moment and you do exactly what Jace tells you."

"Yes, of course." he jumps up and down excitedly before moving closer to Vermax again. Jace picks him up and approaches his dragon. He lowers his front leg slightly and lets Jace climb onto him. The dragon is completely calm, and you are glad about it.

As the two sit on the dragon's back, Jace begins to explain what all the buckles are for, how to hold the reins, and how he communicates with Vermax while flying using commands and shifting his weight.

You almost have a heart attack at the sight of Rickon on the dragon. You breathe a sigh of relief as Rickon slides down Vermax's wings after Jace's explain him how to do it. Laughing, he runs to you.

"Did you see how I rode the dragon?"

"Yes, of course. That looked really great. Like a real dragon rider," you say to him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

"Do you want to try it ?" Jace asks from the dragon's back.

You quickly shake your head. "Absolutely not." you say.

Jace starts laughing again, but it's a warm laugh, the kind that's so contagious. He is not laughing at you. You laugh with him.

The prince also slides down the wing of his dragon. "Maybe another time," he says then.

"Probably not." you contradict.

"Don't be so sure, I can be very convincing." he winks at you, and you roll your eyes at his banter.

"Rickon." Cregan's voice echoes across the courtyard. You turn around immediately, hoping to finally be able to hold your husband in your arms. Cregan stands on the gallery above the courtyard and looks down at you. Even from down here, you can see his tense posture and his angry gaze. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to let Rickon sit on Vermax after all. "You have lessons."

You pause, confused. You are sure that you did not schedule any lessons for Rickon today. His teacher would not visit him again until tomorrow. But perhaps you messed up the plans with all the excitement about the prince's visit and the organization of yesterday's feast.

"Yes, Father." says Rickon quickly and takes a few steps towards the entrance before stopping and turning back to Jace once more. "Thank you for letting me pet the dragon," he says politely and bows before running inside.

You almost burst with pride for the boy when you see that your upbringing is showing. He would become a fine Lord of Winterfell, you are sure of that.

"Thank you, he hasn't talked about anything else. It's very exciting for him that you're here."

Jace smiles. "Gladly. He reminds me of my little brothers. I miss them."

You nod slightly, understanding the homesickness. "I also have to excuse myself, I have duties to attend to." you want to turn away and go to Cregan to finally have a moment alone with him.

"Please give me just one more moment."

You would prefer to refuse and run to Cregan, but politeness forbids it, so you nod and wait eagerly to see what Jace wants from you. He retrieves something from Vermax's saddle and hands you a small box. Confused, you open it, and a necklace comes into view. Pure gold is intricately crafted into suns with spears and three-headed dragons. The seals of House Martell and House Targaryen. A beautiful piece of work. Probably more expensive than most of your wardrobe.

"My mother asked me to hand this to you to remind you of the friendship between our houses."

She wants support from Dorne. She wants to buy you. It annoys you. Nevertheless, you smile.

"Please give your mother my thanks. I will cherish this friendship. But please remind them that I cannot speak for my brother and House Martell. I am a Stark."

Jace face tenses up slightly and his smile looks forced. To save the mood, you take the necklace out of the box.

"Would you help me?"

"Of course." he takes the necklace and you turn around so he can put it on you. When the necklace falls into place, you turn around again. "Thank you." you say and smile. "But I have to go now. You know, duties and that kind of stuff." you try to joke to get out of this irritating moment.

"Yes, of course."

You turn away and go inside. The necklace feels cold against your skin and is heavy. You will wear it as long as Jace visits Winterfell and then simply take it off. Of course, the necklace is beautiful, but you don't necessarily feel the need to carry House Targaryen's sigil with you. Besides, your husband has given you enough necklaces. All made of silver and with the Stark family crest. You like these necklaces a thousand times better even though they are not quite as finely crafted. They are gifts from your husband. He could give you a leather strap, and you would treat it like your greatest treasure. Just because it is a gift from Cregan.

When you arrive inside, unfortunately, you can't find your husband. Frustrated, you exhale. Maybe the Maester knows where he is. But before you can make your way to Winterfell's Maester, you are stopped by the blacksmith. He has an important matter, so you postpone the search for your husband.

Fate, however, is not kind to you, and so you are constantly pulled from one duty to another, and when you finally finish all your tasks, the sun has already set. But even now you can't give in to your need to search for your husband. Jace comes towards you.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, to be honest. I have a letter for my fiancée Baela. Could I borrow a raven?" his cheeks turn slightly red as he holds up the scroll. The thought that the prince took the time to write a love letter in the middle of negotiations about troops for the war makes you smile.

"Of course. Come, I'll show you the way."

Hopefully this is really your last task for today. The longing for your husband is terrible. You can't remember the last time you went a whole day without talking to each other. You long to be pulled into his arms, to feel his kisses, to hear his voice.

You enter your shared chambers. You almost worry that Cregan is already asleep again, but he is sitting by the fireplace. A cup of wine in his hand. His long legs stretched out on the furs, yet his posture is tense. As the door behind you clicks shut, he turns his head towards you. His gaze is angry, his jaw tense. Your smile slips from your face.

"What happened?" you ask worriedly.

"Where were you?" he is on his feet and with two steps by you. The air around him almost pulses with his anger. Confused, you have to blink. What's going on? Worry spreads within you. You want to reach for his hand, but Cregan pulls his arm away. Surprised, you stand there.

"Where were you?" he repeats in a dark voice.

"Um, with Jace we .."

He snorts and interrupts you. A little angry, you furrow your brows. What's wrong with him?

"Jace." he says the name like an insult. "Interesting how close you are to the prince."

You almost want to laugh when you finally understand why your husband is acting so strangely. He is jealous. But with that angry look and tense posture, the laughter get stuck in your throat.

"Cregan." you begin in a gentle voice and take a step towards him. His eyes radiate anger, his whole body is tense. For others, that might seem frightening, but not for you. But again he doesn't let you finish. He looks to the side. His eyebrows are drawn together, his jaw is tense.

"You quickly became good friends. I watched you and him. At the feast and today with his dragon and Rickon."

"I'm just being friendly. Like I am with every Lord who comes to visit us." you try to be reasonable. Your voice is calm even though his unfounded jealousy and his doubts about you makes you angry. You don't understand why he has a problem with Jace.

"Not so friendly. I haven't seen you laugh like that for a long time." Now his memory is playing tricks on him.

"That's not true," you say.

"It is." your husband insists. You want to shake some sense into him. "But I can understand you. A handsome prince, of course you're interested in him. He could offer you a lot."

"Do you really think I would care about what he can offer? You give me more than I ever dreamed of. He is a prince, yes. Well, and who cares? How could I be interested in him when I have you?"

Cregan snorts again, avoids your gaze, and crosses his arms over his chest. "He gave you jewelry."

"No! His mother gave me jewelry, he is just the deliverer. The queen wants the support of the Martells, that's why."

"Nevertheless, you strut around with the necklace around your neck as if it were your most precious possession. I understand that. You are used to wearing expensive jewelry and fine gold. The North cannot offer you that."

He is so angry that he doesn't really take in your words. He doesn't want it. He is getting worked up about it. But you know your husband. You know very well that words sometimes don't get through to him. Especially not when he is angry. Cregan is a man of action, not of words. You reach for the necklace and tear it off your own neck. The clasp clinks slightly as it hits the floor, you don't care. You simply throw the necklace into the nearest corner of your chambers. A servant can have it, or it can end up in the trash. You don't care. Who cares about gold necklaces, gemstones, and jewelry?

You approach Cregan, und despite his anger and tension, you are not deterred and simply reach for his hand again. This time he doesn't flinch, but he also doesn't uncross his arms and take your hand. His eyebrows are furrowed, and you can see that his mind is working.

"I am yours and you are mine." you repeat the vow you made years ago before the Heart Tree in Winterfell's Godswood. "Always. Do you really think my love for you is that fragile?" you're almost offended.

"No." Cregan sighs. "It's just. He is a prince. The future king of the Seven Kingdoms. What can I offer you that he can't? You are a princess and you deserve a prince. Even Rickon understood that. A princess belongs to a prince."

You shake your head slightly, reach for his face, and force him to look at you. Of course, he could easily break away from you, but he doesn't.

"Cregan Stark! Who do you think I am? What are the words of my house?"

"Winter is coming," he grumbles as if to make it clear once again that you are his wife. A Stark. Still, you shake your head.

"Not those words."

"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken"

"Exactly! And so is my love for you. Do you think I would be impressed by a little prince with a pretty smile? Do you really think I would regret my life here? Regret our family? No. This here, Winterfell, you, our marriage is all I need. I am happy here. I don't want all the frills and fuss. Who needs a prince and a ridiculous Iron Throne anyway? I love you, Cregan. You. And your boy and our home."

"Your life with him would be much more pleasant. No deprivations like here in the cold north. You could live in all the luxury you deserve. Like a real princess. Not hidden and far away from everything. I can't give you the live you deserve. No matter how much I want it."

You put a hand on his cheek. Your thumb caress him gently while you look into his eyes.

"Listen to me carefully! I don't want luxury. I don't want a Red Keep, a court, or bended knees. I want you. I love you. Only you. No one else could ever have my heart. It belongs to you. Always. Completely. I love you with my heart and soul. I could never be happier than with you. Do you understand what I'm saying? There is no reason to be jealous of a little prince."

Cregan's gaze is upon you. His eyes dart over your face. Suddenly, he leans forward and his lips crash onto yours. You are startled for a moment but then you return his kiss. The passion washes over you like a wave, your hands burying themselves in his dark hair while Cregan's hands wander to your back and he pulls you closer to him. Breathless, you pull away from each other. Cregan leans his forehead against yours, holding you tightly in his arms.

"I'm sorry. I saw you and the prince and my thoughts got the better of me. I know that I am not good enough for you. I never was, I never will be. I'm sorry, love. I just love you so much." he kisses your forehead.

You smile and bury your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. Love and warmth course through you as he holds you so close.

"Never doubt yourself, my Love. As long as my heart beats, it beats for you and only for you."

[very-gay-poet]

tldr; I get mad and start using my love for RE to use lol

they wanna talk about how woman's rights were upheld by Christianity 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

why then, babygirl, are so many of you SO hyperfixated on woman being "restored" to their "natural roles"???

and why then, babygirl, is the Bible translated purely just wrong in the story of Adam and Eve??? Why did ya'll reduce Eve to Adams unimportant rib bone when, in Mathews I believe it was, it uses the same word in the original language but is then translated to roughly "side" or "half".

Eve was made out of Adams "Half" or "side" not his fucking rib bone.

but alright how about I give you an example of another religion hm?

In the Qur'an Khadija (one of Prophet Muhammad's [PBUH] wives) was an INCREDIBLY wealthy and successful business woman with skills she was taught by her father, she was the Prophets wife at the time he started getting visons and words from God and never once doubted him (so much she is often considered the first person to have believed in Muhammad's message) and was the first covert to Islam. It's said that she was actually greeted by God. To make it even better SHE PROPOSED TO HIM. She was the one who'd employed him in her business. She also helped the poor and orphans, widows, the sick and helped poor girls get married and provided their dowry. Oh and if you think she's too "masculine" for her time? She and the Prophet also had six children whom they BOTH cared for. She did what she wanted (rejecting multiple marriage offers), flipped gender roles, but also had children and was a mother. Something ya'll seem to really like right now.

There's also another wife of his who (if I remember correctly) is the reason why we have HALF OF THE QUR'AN. she carried it. on her back.

"...cultures that considered woman as barely even people" bitch be fucking for real. Yes, that IS a problem is some cultures. But don't you DARE say it was because of Christianity that woman have rights when ya'll are actively taking them away.

without irony: we have got to start feeding these freaks to lions again

[dorabellingham]

Mini Bellingham

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when after fans suspect, you actually find out you're pregnant

may contain spelling and translation errors!

A few weeks after the last wave of rumors that Jude Bellingham was going to be a father, you realized that something was really different. It wasn't just the slight swelling in your shirt, nor the symptoms that you attributed to the fast pace of travel and the crazy routine in Madrid. After a few days of feeling more tired than usual and having some morning sickness, you decided to put the doubt to rest once and for all.

The next morning, you took a pregnancy test from the bathroom, and a few minutes later, the two little lines appeared on the screen, confirming what you didn't even know you were expecting: you were pregnant. The emotion was intense and immediate. You laughed to yourself, tears welling up in surprise, and you stood there, absorbing the feeling of now having a precious and charming secret to share with Jude.

You knew he needed a surprise to match. After all, if the love of your life was going to find out he was going to be a father, it had to be in the most special way possible. You quickly planned a gesture that was symbolic and at the same time very much connected to the dream you both shared. In the following days, you sneaked out to organize everything: a mini-uniform of the English national team with the number ten and the name Bellingham on the back. You thought of every detail and, to make the surprise complete, you put together a kit with the uniform, the pregnancy test and a handwritten letter.

On the weekend, Jude arrived home after a hard training session, without thinking about anything. He was hungry and just wanted to rest. You smiled when you saw him come in distracted, already taking off his boots and adjusting his shirt. As soon as he sat down on the sofa, you approached him smiling and held out a small box with a red bow, which he accepted, confused.

—Is this… a present?

Jude asked, arching an eyebrow with a curious expression. You bit your lip, trying to contain your excitement, and shook your head.

—Go on, open it!

You said, with a smile that you could barely contain.

The eldest Bellingham opened the box and, when he pulled off the tissue paper, he came across the small uniform of the English national team. He looked at you with a surprised expression, not fully understanding, until he saw the pregnancy test. His eyes widened and his mouth opened in a smile of complete surprise and disbelief.

—Babe…? —He could barely speak, swallowing hard. —Are you… serious?

You nodded, smiling with your eyes full of tears.

—Congratulations, daddy!

You whispered, the words almost coming out like a melody.

He laughed, a surprised laugh, his face hidden in his hands as he processed the news. Emotion took over him, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight, long hug, laughing and crying at the same time.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Jude pulled away enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with happiness.

—A mini Bellingham… I can’t believe it! I’m already the luckiest man in the world just to have you, and now… Is this real?

You laughed, wiping a tear from his face.

—It’s real. And you know what’s funny? I think even your fans were already suspicious. But now, only the two of us know.

He looked at the mini-uniform in his hands, turning it over and getting lost in the details.

—I don’t even know how to thank you for giving me the greatest gift in the world, Y/n.

He kissed the top of your head, then brought his hand to your belly, still flat, but which would soon begin to show the first signs of this new phase.

You took the letter, handing it to him.

—There’s one more thing.

He opened the envelope carefully and read, still emotional:

"Dear Jude,

Thank you for being the best partner and the love of my life. I knew I wanted you to be the father of my children from the moment I realized I would do anything to be by your side. Today, I begin a new journey by your side, and I can only imagine how much we will love this baby. Our baby.

Thank you for everything, and thank you for being you. With all my love,

Y/n."

Jude could barely contain his emotion as he finished reading the letter. He looked at you, touched, and simply said.

—I love you more than anything in this world, love. More than I ever thought possible. And now... now there are three of us.

You snuggled into his arms, feeling completely at peace. From that moment on, your world was bigger, more complete, and the wait for that little Bellingham would be the sweetest of all.

[postm0rt3m]

happy thanksgiving everyone!

just a lil fluff thanksgiving bf!simon post bcz i just sobbed my heart out over the most absolutely devastatingly beautiful angst story i’ve ever read (through statics, give it a read!) and if i keep thinking about it i’m going to actually spiral

not proofread so :P

(i said this then made myself cry again writing this bffr. this also ended up way longer than i meant for it to so lol!)

“simon?”

“…baby?”

“simon theodore! are you even listening to-“

simon suddenly snaps back out of his thoughts at the stern tone in your voice, letting out a small grunt as if saying “yes i was” but in reality.. he wasn’t. he was too far gone in his absolutely harrowing thoughts, because today is the day.

the day he’s having thanksgiving dinner with your family. i repeat, simon “ghost” riley is currently on his way to eat turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie with his girlfriend’s family. sound the alarms!

don’t get me wrong, he’s met some of your family before. your parents, your siblings. but.. your entire family is going to be here. moms side, dads side, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins. oh god.

this man has been through war and back. literally. yet, he feels as anxious as he did the first day he joined the army, just thinking about the events that are about to go down. he’s literally trembling. terrified to lift his hands from the death grip he has on the steering wheel because he knows you’ll get that same teasing sympathetic look on your face as you always do.

he finally clears his throat, breaking his deadpan stare out the windshield to glance over at you for a moment, which brings him a little comfort. just the sight of you, really, could relax every tense muscle in his body.

“yeah, yeah, ‘m listenin’. said sumn about.. ham..?”

you look over when you feel his gaze on his, that same smile he was just trying to prevent spreading across your face. holding back a laugh from the random mention of ham, you place your left hand on his meaty thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“…no. are you okay? i promise they’re gonna love you, si. seriously.”

you know, of course, about your boyfriend’s past. his alcoholic of a father, the absence of his mother, the way he buried himself with work and an early grave in an attempt to forget it all. every time you think about it, your heart squeezes. because his pain is your pain, and it hurts you so deeply its as if it happened to you. plus, your man doesn’t deserve all that weight on his shoulders!

so, you’re kind. loving. forgiving. you never hold his mistakes over his head, knowing it happened so many times in his childhood. you’ve been together not even a year, yet, you know. you know he’s the one that you’ll marry, the one who’s children you’ll have running around your big white suburban house. and he knows it too. which is why he agreed to this!

he gives another grunt after he mulls over your question, because, really, is he okay? he’s not sure himself, at this point.

“i.. ‘m fine. lets just get this over with.”

—

once you actually arrive, you’re.. not sure if simon is still breathing in his seat. neither is he. his hands are still placed firmly on the steering wheel and his feet on the pedals, even though he already turned the car off. five minutes ago.

“baby. take a deep breath in,”

you begin, your smile falling as you realize he’s actually terrified. this is probably the first thanksgiving dinner he’s ever been to. and with his future family? he just wants the world to open up and swallow him whole already.

but, he obliges, taking a sharp inhale in, holding it, then letting it out when you say. it actually does relax his muscles a little, but not his nerves. no, they’re so far gone he thinks they won’t be relaxed for the next five years.

“then out. you’re okay. everything will be okay. i promise, they’ll love you. worst case scenario, we leave and get chinese.”

he looks over at you, his gaze still as intense as ever, but you can see the utter fear and nerves swirling around behind his brown eyes. you let out a small sigh, leaning over the center console to place a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek.

“lets go in. we can come back out if its too much, okay?”

he nods, swallowing so hard he thinks he might’ve swallowed his own tongue. his grip on the steering wheel finally releases as he exits the car, the crisp november air instantly hitting his face and the white t-shirt & blue jeans that took him two hours to pick out.

he rounds the front of the black pickup truck, opening your door and taking your hand as you slide down out of the passenger seat.

as you two walk up to the front door of your mother and father’s home, his grip on your hand tightens more and more with each step. you place another reassuring peck on his arm, which loosens it just a little. just a little.

you make it to the front door, and oh my god simon thinks he’s going to pass out. he’s trying to keep it together, but staring through the foggy glass of the door, seeing the bustling of your family inside, he thinks he might hurl.

“oh — you must be the famous simon we hear so much about! her mom never shuts up about you!”

one of your aunts opens the door, a beaming smile spread across her face as she sees you, then cranes her neck up to look at your brute of a boyfriend. you can see the shock on her face for a split second, although she doesn’t dwell on it. but simon does.

why did she look at me like that? do i have something on my face? bloody hell, i’m gonna throw up everywhere and she’s gonna leave me and-

you cut simon out of his thoughts with a reassuring squeeze to his hand, glancing from him to your aunt. she reaches her hand out, and simon hesitantly meets it, giving it a gentle yet firm shake.

“we’re glad to be here! simon is excited to meet everyone, right, love?”

“yeah. can’t wait.”

you two make your way through the lively house, and simon can’t help but think about how.. domestic it all is.

your siblings and cousins all running around, playing together and weaving in and out of the various rooms. your mom, aunts, and grandmothers gathered in the kitchen, preparing the food and gossiping about their respective partners. your dad, uncles and grandpas laughing heartily over beers and nachos as they watch the ongoing baseball game on the tv.

its something simon has never had the pleasure of experiencing in real life, and something he never thought he’d get to experience.. ever. the reality hits him, so much harder than he’d thought.

that.. this is his life. this is his family. not those people who abandoned him all those years ago. you’re his family. and the thought warms his chest in a way not even you could.

the day flies by, so much faster than simon thought it would. he got to meet everyone, speak with everyone. he even had a beer with your dad. although this may be completely new to him, it instantly felt familiar. felt right. the stability and domesticity he’s craved for so long, and he’s finally got it.

he was nervous the whole time, of course. he still is. but having you there made it all melt all way after a few hours. he stayed by your side the entire time, not wanting to leave you alone, but also not wanting to be alone himself. your reassuring squeezes, your loving pecks to his cheek or arm, they kept him grounded. and he will never be able to re-pay you for such a feat.

when it comes time to eat, everyone is crowded around the living room with heaping plates in hands. your cousins are sprawled on the floor, uncles and aunts sitting in random camping chairs they brought knowing there wouldn’t be enough space for everyone.

simon can’t wait to eat. the fragrant turkey and gravy sitting in his lap, he thinks he will simply die if he doesn’t dig in.

but, one of your aunts mentioned saying grace. something simon doesn’t think he’s done a single time in his life.

everyones heads bow, hands connecting around the room, simon holding yours in his left and your sibling’s in his right as you all squeeze together on the couch.

your mother begins her prayer, giving her thanks for the people, the food, and the house they’re so lucky to be blessed with. simon finds it a little silly as a firm non-believer of any type of religion, but it also squeezes at his heart, because they truly are blessed. he’s blessed.

then, she mentions him.

“and thank you, for bringing such a handsome man into my daughter’s life. we hope for a long, healthy life for the two of them, and hope he doesn’t mind his new crazy family.”

his new crazy family.

you peek your eyes open with the widest grin, glancing over to see if simon is as flushed as you think he is.

but he’s not.

he’s crying.

you can feel his hand slightly trembling, his eyes still clamped shut as the tears roll down his face and his lip pouts out just the slightest. your smile instantly falls, your hand still connected with his as you raise them to wipe at his tears.

you try to be discreet, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to as you dry his eyes with your sleeve. you can feel your heart doing flips, the fact that he’s so touched that he’s crying making you want to cry yourself.

after they say amen, everyone instantly digs into their plates. except the two of you.

you can’t take your eyes off of simon, and he can’t take his reddened eyes off of you. here, in this moment, you both realize something.

everything you two’ve been through. the lows, the sleepless nights. the highs, nights out on the town until ungodly hours. has lead to this. this connection, this moment.

and, god, neither of you could ask for more. he truly can’t wait to put a ring on your finger.

after a few moments of silent conversation you give him a small smile, and the two of you tune back into the world, digging into your plates and enjoying the presence of your family and each other.

this is his family now. and just like he couldn’t ask for more from you, he couldn’t ask anymore from them. he loves them just as much as he does you.

a few hours later, everyone begins leaving and heading home. thanksgiving is officially over for your household.

you can barely drag simon away from the kitchen, who is stacking a plate the size of his own head with the various dishes strewn across the counter. your mother was absolutely delighted at the fact that he kept going back, for seconds, thirds, then fourths. and now he’s taking the remaining leftovers.

you two make it back out to the truck, him helping you in before the both of you settle in and fasten your seatbelts.

but he doesn’t yet start it. he looks over at you, a content sigh escaping his lips and a smile so warm across his face you think you could melt.

“i love you.”

he simply says, the usual monotone stance in his voice replaced with something else. something warm and sweet, like the soft piece of pumpkin pie in the plate in your lap, neatly covered by a layer of tin foil.

“i love you too, simon. i told you they’d love you.”

you respond, the smile on your own face giddy and almost sickly sweet as you think about everything that just happened, and everything that will happen.

its a little hard for simon to make sense of all these new emotions and flooding feelings as you two make the long drive back home. but one thing he does know, he’s thankful.

thankful for you, thankful for the 5 inch tall plate of food in the backseat, and thankful for your family.

for his family.

[klausysworld]

Apart of the Family

Loving Elijah Mikaelson wasn't an easy thing.

He pushed me away the entirety of the start of our relationship, he wouldn't talk about his feelings or his thoughts. Sometimes he thought breaking up would protect me from him and his family.

If I hadn't loved him so much then I would have left but I couldn't help but stay. We met in Mystic Falls when he was there to deal with Klaus and avenge his family. I had thought he'd left when Klaus daggered him so I was so happy when Damon woke him back up.

He came to my house even before getting his haircut to see me and he ended up staying the night before having to leave with plans to wake his family.

Rebekah didn't like me much to start out, none of them trusted me or wanted me in their house but that didn't stop Elijah from coming to mine. But if he wasn't with them, looking after them 24/7 like a father figure then they all started to fall apart.

He started to pull away again, so I had to confront the Mikaelsons myself, which was admittedly terrifying but overall worth it when Klaus's eyes shimmered with respect and I got to shove past Rebekah and up the stairs of the mansion. Elijah was practically feral after listening to me stand up to his siblings.

His mother liked me, although I'm not really sure if that should be taken as a compliment or an insult. Elijah liked it though. I think he's always sought approval from his parents.

He was distraught when he found out his mother planned to kill them. More broken then any of his siblings could ever know. He made me promise not to tell them that he'd been sobbing into my chest for over two hours that night.

We left for a little while, Elijah needed some time and I jumped at the chance of having him alone for a little while before he was inevitably called back.

We'd been living such a domesticated life We had our own house, yard, stupid white-picket fence.

Even though I knew it was impossible, I started to dream of having his child. I knew he'd been the perfect father, he had a thousand years worth of practice.

I could imagine if we had a son, he'd be all dressed in his little suit with his hair combed neatly. Elijah was just perfect, but he couldn't have children so I wouldn’t either.

I thought I was happy with that, until I found out that Klaus was having a baby.

It wasn't fair. He didn't even want a child and neither did Hayley. Elijah was the only reason the child stayed alive and Klaus still daggered him.

"I promise you, I'll bring him home." He told me when I'd found out he wasn't even in the house somewhere but under Marcels mercy.

"Klaus." I whispered, I could feel my eyes getting wet with tears and he sighed.

"I wouldn't let him get hurt. I know you think I'm selfish and I use my brother...to an extent that's true, but I do love him and I know that you do. He'll come back and I'll undagger him before the baby is even born." He promised and I didn't have much room to argue. Instead I just went back upstairs.

Even Rebekah came which was a nightmare. I don't know what her problem was for me but somehow my favourite Mikaelson in that house was Klaus.

Until Klaus finally brought him back.

I didn't care that Rebekah was pissed that I got to hug him first, I refused to let him go and he didn't seem to be budging much either. I could feel his face nuzzling my neck as I breathed in his scent.

"He made us stop at a suit shop on the way over, he refused for you to see him all dusty and-"

"That's enough, Niklaus. Just leave us be." Elijah muttered and I sighed in relief at the sound of his voice.

By evening I was snuggled up to his bare chest, his hands on my back as he pressed a series of kisses to the top of my head.

"I love you." He mumbled and I smiled, he didn't like saying it often. He worried it would lose it's meaning.

"I love you too." I whispered, wanting nothing more than to lay with him forever.

Things got better and worse from then.

Everything was Klaus centred again of course. When wasn't it?

But I did feel bad for him, to have to go as far to fake his child's death. It was the first time I'd ever hugged him, I could feel his tears on my neck as he tried to sniff them back. Elijah was looking at me from across the room, a slight nod to his head as he finished the phone call with Rebekah.

Things were quiet after that.

But then everything went wrong again, Esther and Mikael came back. Elijah's 'Red Door' opened and he almost suffocated me in his sleep.

He wouldn't touch be for almost a month, not even hold my hand, it was torture. It took a very hash breakdown and a really long cry for him to finally wrap his arms around me and apologise.

It was really hard for a while, but seeing him with Hope in his arms did something to me. It broke me.

That was when Rebekah finally realised we weren't that different. She sat with me on the bathroom floor whilst I sobbed over not being able to have his child and we stayed there until Elijah came in and found us. I wouldn't tell him what was wrong and ended up leaving for a a few hours but it was obvious that Rebekah had spoken to him about it by the time I got home.

He welcomed be back into his arms and he held me tight, caressing my arms and my back before finally breaking the silence.

"I truly refuse to believe that with the amount of magic in this world, that there is no possible chance of me being able to give you a baby." He whispered and I sniffed.

"You're dead Elijah, your sperm is dead." I mumbled and he ran his fingers through my hair.

"Witches bring people back from the dead, I think they can revive a couple of my swimmers." He chuckled and I let out a half cry/half laugh.

"You really think that?" I whispered and he kissed the side of my face.

"I'm at least going to try." He murmured.

It wasn't really mentioned again for a while so I assumed that it had just been a fleeting idea to calm me down.

That was until I walked into our room and found it covered in candles and rose petals. Elijah was stood in a fresh suit, his hands clasped together with a rose between them.

"What..." I mumbled and he let out a shaky breath.

"I found a witch." He stated and my brows pulled together for a second before the realisation washed over me.

"You did?" I whispered and he nodded. I dropped my bag down and made my way inside, standing in front of him and taking the rose from his hands, placing it down on the vanity. "Are you sure that it'll work?" I asked and his lips twitched.

"There's only one way to find that out." He murmured lowly, his umber eyes bleeding into obsidian.

I reached up to carefully undo his tie, my fingers unloosing the fabric in the way he liked to do it so that it wouldn't stretch or 'fold funny'. I pushed his blazer down his shoulders and rest it over the chair before reaching up to undo each button one by one. I made sure my fingertips brushed over the firm muscle of his chest before pulling the shirt off his arms and onto the chair as well.

My eyes glanced up to his as I loosened his belt, slipping it away from his hips and popping the button on his trousers. He let out a soft sigh through his nose as they dropped down to his ankles and he stepped out of them. I let him take his boxers off whilst I unbuttoned my dress all the way down and slipped my panties off and reached back to get my bra off.

His hand was round my waist, pulling me to bed in a second making me smile and lean back into the mattress as he hovered over me.

"I promise I'll give you a baby, Y/N." He uttered and I felt my heart and lower stomach flutter.

His hands stroked down the length of my body before my thighs were gripped and pushed open. I bit my lip to hold back my grin as his lips worked their way down from the top of my neck to my navel.

"Does this help make the baby?" I whispered with a breathy laugh as his hot breath stimulated my clitoris.

"It might." He murmured with a grin before his tongue licked a strip through my folds before focusing on my clit. My head went back, resting against the pillows and my legs fell open against his hands that gripped my thighs firmly. I looked up at the ceiling through heavy eyes as his tongue swirled perfectly. Heat stroked me so precisely that I was a trembling mess in a matter of seconds. It always amazed me how easily he broke me.

It never took long before my fingers were latched into his hair, ruining the neat appearance he always held and forcing groans to vibrate through my lower body and set fire to my core.

I never received any time to recover before he was cupping my face and lifting my legs, hushing my whine as my leg was stretched over his shoulder.

"Look at me, darling." He murmured but his voice was somehow always clear. I did as he said, my eyes locking with his as I felt him push inside me; stretching and filling me inch my inch until all the air was gone from my lungs.

His lips pushed to mine, filling my mouth with his tongue and teasing mine. "Elijah..." I moaned quietly against him and he pulled away with a groan, looking down at me and kissing my forehead as his hips drew back before pushing forward with force. I let out a sharp breath as he did so, my hands cupping his neck and my nails scratching the back of his head. "Gods..." I whispered and he let out a low hum as he build a steady rhythm to move against me.

"I can't wait to pump you full of my child." He uttered, his eyes swirling with that familiar darkness. I panted with a smile on my lips, feeling my leg strain as he pushed be deeper into the bed and moved quicker. "Feel you milk me of my last drop." He breathed out as his mouth now hovered back over mine, making my skin hotter and hotter. "See you round and swollen..." He grunted, his body stuttering before getting a little rougher.

His grip started to get tighter, his fingertips pressing bruises into the skin of my thigh and hip. The veins starting to scatter beneath his eyes and down his stubbled cheeks. My hands slid round from his neck to feel how they raised against the pads of my thumbs.

"I need you." I whispered and his brows furrowed.

"You have me." He muttered, thrusting particularly hard as if to make a point. "All of me."

"Prove it." I breathed and his blunt nails dug in a little before one of his hands let go and slid down my body to massage my clit so well that I knew that was it for me.

His other hand was round my throat, forcing me to look back at him as his warmth started to fill more and more, one thrust at a time until he stayed completely still above me. His forehead rest against mine, his skin warm on mine as he shifted to kiss my lips.

"I promise you, by the end of the year, you'll be carrying our child and I'll be massaging you until you're perfectly sated." He smiled and I mirrored it as he shifted so that I was laid on top of his firm body. "We should lay for a while...so that it can take." He whispered and I hummed.

"I'd lay with you forever."

"Always, and forever." He corrected softly.

[just-some-random-blogger]

you get me. you GET me. you get me so much i screamed when you laid down what you got. UGHHH. literally i hope to write more fics that will interest you because UGHHHHH you just get meeeeeeee its sooo goodddd

i also i too use girl as gender neutral sLAYYY.

I'm so happy you love the cargyll twins 🥺🫶🫶

The way we always see her as *herself*, beyond her ailment, beyond her concerns of putting up an act, both as a Hightower daughter and/or a Targaryen wife. She's just herself, without being worried that she's disappointing Otto or Daemon.

this is it. this is literally how i envisioned their dynamic to be yknow. when you commented on this once before i leapedddddd for joy it LEAPED really. you get me. you get meeee.

she's just a girl when she's with them. just a girl who loves to swim and pick flowers. did you actually sob cos of the scene with erryk? 🫂🫂🫂 but also... love that for me HAHAHAH.

(I don't even want to think about the fact that the last time she experienced something like this was probably in old town w gwayne when they were children)

dw. i like to think the sibs snuck out to go for a swim for the last time before she was married to daemon. to cheer her up yknow. alicent was there too <3

I love the way you portray Otto's relationship [...]

THISSSSSSSS. THISSSS. YOU JUST GET MEEEE T_T SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. I literally JUST ranted about this to my friend that everyone is like 'daemon is trying' WHAT ABOUT OTTO I WROTE HIM THAT WAY TOO AND YOU JUST 😫😫😫😫😫 FUCKK YOU GETTT MEEEEEe

[...] with the reader because he's not black and white with his motives, only using his daughter to raise his House's standing. Rather, he's a complex character with layers, he's still a father - albeit a shitty one at that.

YOURE SOOOOOO ON POINT WITH EVERYTHING LITERALLYYYYYYYYYYYYY i thought it was really important to expound on this because DAEMON IS LITERALLY OTTO TO HER!!! BUT IN A WAY BETTER BECAUSE AT LEAST DAEMON IS CAPABLE OF SOME SORT OF AFFECTION. she's like 'ok my dad treats me this way, ergo my husband treating me this way is fine' !!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is so important fr fr because we accept the love we think we deserve.

He loves his daughter, in his own twisted way. How he ensures that she's not having a fit before dropping the baby bomb on her. He worries for her, knows her ticks.

💯 no notes

But it's the way he uses his love and knowledge regarding her to get his own way and to get the reaction he wants out of her that's the most twisted.

THIS!!!!!! ok im so fucking excited i just want to tell you BUT ALL WILL BE REVEALED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER IVE BEEN BUILDING THIS SHIT UP FOR SO LONG IM SO FUCKING GLAD YOU CAUGHT ON IM GOING TO FUCKING CRY.

Also, I love how we're seeing mc slowly but surely starting to stand up for herself. WE LOVE GROWTH IM SO PROUD OF HER, I COULD CRY.

<3 but also..... who's gonna tell her (not me)

Day 173822 of begging daemon to just be normal for once in his life.

ur so me fr bestie

Honestly speaking, I was one of the few that voted for reader to prioritise herself and not go after either gwayne or daemon but ohh!!! I loved loved loved this scene.

🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣💯💯💯 AS YOU SHOULD. AS YOU FUCKING SHOULD. I WAS AND AM STILL ACTUALLY VERY GAGGED THAT THAT POLL WOUND UP THAT WAY. SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING TOTALITARIANISM BECAUSE THIS DEMOCRACY AINT WORKING FOR ME CUZ WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNN COMFORT DAD BOI DAEMON???????? YUCKKK i mean i get it but DAMNNNN?????

her whole arc with gwayne was rough. spolier? i dont plan on bringing him back at all so </3 if he comes back well 😬😬 shits about to go down

ALSO DAEMON YOU LITTLE RAT,

HAHAHHAHAHHAHAH YOU LIKE ME FR FR FR I TOO CALL HIM RAT HAHAHAHAH AND EVERYONE ELSE THAT FUCKING PISSES ME OFF

YOU HAVE NO RIGHT BEING MAD AT MY GIRL FOR NOT BEING THERE WHEN YOU DEGRADED HER THE LAST TIME AND NOT IN THE SEXY WAY!!!!

😬 yeesh fr.

Her telling him to speak what he wants and not twist his words is soooo real. YES GIRLL SET IT STRAIGHT WE DONT WANT EXTRA HEADACHES IN OUR LIVES!!

🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯 AGAIN AND AGAIN YOU GET ME YOU DONT MISSSSSSSS

I just remembered that she still thinks that night was a dream and I'm heartbroken again </3

dw. she'll find out it wasnt a dream.............. eventually

Pls daemon why do you have to choose aggression and rage every fucking time. Just be cute for once ugghhh.

UR LITERALLY ME FRRR HAHAHHAHHAHA

EVEN THE LINE YOU QUOTEDDDD i feared people might overlook it BUT YOU SAW. YOU GET ME. AND THATS MORE THAN ENOUGH.

I am so honored to have gotten your lovely reblog. i will 100% tag you my love. i'm glad you like my fic and my brain and my words. i love you so much. literally if there is something you want to see in this fic, just tell me and i'll make it happen for you fr fr.

Tormented Spirit | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (cunnilingus, piv, choking, degradation, slight sadism), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: again the high valyrian is internet translated so lol. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. might make another poll for next chapter stay tuned. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat

Taking you to the hidden stream was simultaneously the best and worst decision Erryk's ever made in his life. The look of you was holy. His intense focus on your form was to ensure your safety, but, by the gods, it felt sinful to behold your dark hair and light fabric ebbing in the water.

He had hoped a swim would lift your spirits, just as flower picking did, but he did not know it would draw such a tempest out of you. It was as though you were reborn. You plunged into the water and shed all your inhibitions. Your voice became brighter, as did your eyes. You were flooded with more than a dozen memories of you and your twin swimming in the river near your home in Oldtown, and you recounted all of them so excitedly to Erryk.

"Oh!' you exclaim, flipping in the water to get to your feet. You point to something behind your ward, making him turn around. In that split second, you hold in your laughter and grab something from the mossy rocks. Innocently, you say, "that reminds me of something."

Erryk turns back to you, brows knit in confusion. When you you make your way towards him, he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze. The shift you were swimming in was stuck flush on your body, leaving little to his imagination. He was glad to have the foresight to bring you a change of clothes and a towel, and, my, was the pattern on the said towel so very interesting.

"What is a frogs favorite game?" you ask so suddenly.

Erryk turns to you, brows furrowing, "pardon?"

"Tell me the frogs' favorite game, ser," you repeat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Frogs favored game?" he repeats slowly, realizing now that your expression was mockingly innocent. He hums, "I cannot say I-"

"HOPSCOTCH!"

A frog comes leaping into Erryk's face, nearly causing him to topple as he dodges it. He's so flabbergasted by the turn of events, he calls out your name in offence. He is doubly offended by your laughter. His eyes go wide as you hunch forward, leaning on your knees.

"Villain," your ward mutters, scoffing far too many times.

You can barely catch your breath. You fan your face, "frog-ive me."

Erryk's face only contorts further.

"I could not-" you gasp for air, "could not help it."

In truth, if it was any other who did such a childish thing, he'd have shoved them in the water. Alas, you appeared only more beauteous as you made him a fool.

"Forgive me," you repeat in more serious manner, "Gwayne used to scare me this way often. I wished only to know how it felt, and now..." you giggle, "I can't say I blame my brother for constantly pulling tricks on me."

He huffs and shakes his head, "well. I'm glad to have pleased you, my ever-so-kind princess."

You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."

Erryk shakes his head, "no. Truly. I am glad to see you in such a state."

You fidget with your fingers as a shiver runs down your spine.

He is quick to unravel your towel. He places it on your shoulders, "perhaps we should go back. The sunset is nigh."

You nod, taking your change of clothes from him next.

He turns around offering you your privacy. It takes a while, but you manage to dress yourself. Once you had your shoes on, you dry your hair with your towel and take his arm, "would you please lace up my dress?"

He nods, avoiding your gaze as he feels his face burn. He quickly laces you up then you return to the Keep.

You both had been laughing, up until you made it past the castle gates, promptly being silenced by the loud shout, "PRINCESS!"

Arryk runs over, charging for his brother. Their steel plates collide as Arryk yanks his twin, "where in gods name did you take her?"

Erryk furrows his brows, "we visited a stream-"

"The Keep is in disarray!" Arryk grits his teeth, hissing under his breath, "everyone's looking for her. Everyone."

You watch the twins huddle close and bicker. As it escalates, you try try to come between them, "Arryk. I was the one who asked him to take me outside the keep."

Arryk does not hear you at first, dead set on arguing with his twin. When you repeat your words the second time however, he turns to you, face softening a fraction. He knits his brows turning back to this brother, whispering something that makes Erryk turn to you with wide eyes, "fuck."

"Why?" you look at them in concern, "what it is?"

Arryk opens his mouth, but Erryk grabs his arm and says, "wait."

"There's no other way to say it," Arryk snaps, ripping his arm out his grip.

"Say what?" you knit your brows.

Arryk turns back to you, then lowers his gaze, "the queen... the queen has passed."

Your jaw drops. Your eyes widen. Your hand immediately covers your mouth. The three of you do not speak for a prolonged moment.

You feel your stomach roll, "w-what happened?"

"She could not deliver the babe herself. The maesters... had to intervene."

Intervene? You could not possibly understand what that could mean, and you find that you do not want to. You shake your head, "and her babe? Is- is her babe well at least?"

Arryk clenches his jaw, "she sired a prince named Baelon... he apparently grows weaker by the hour."

You feel bile rise up your throat.

"Your father and your siblings have been looking for you since news broke."

You shake your head, and gather your skirts.

"As has the prince."

Your face twitches at the thought. You do not delay and make your way inside the Keep.

As you tread the halls, you think about what the queen told you just mere hours ago. There is a sharp twinge in your belly as simultaneously remember how Aemma told you to go cheer for Daemon at the tourney and realize you will never hear a word from her ever again. The thought washes over you like water on the beach, sobering but thankfully not overwhelming.

You hadn't realized you had your head bowed until you hear your name called. You still as you look up, the twins halt behind you.

Otto marches over, brows and jaw tight as ever, "where in gods name have you been?"

You straighten your back as he stops before you, "I-"

"Your wards are double," he turns to the kingsguards, "and doubly useless, it seems."

"Father," you step into his line of sight, "do relieve your rage on them."

Your father turns back to you, expression softening a fraction at your referral. You had not called him father since your argument in the maester's office. He looks at you— takes a good look at you and your sad eyes, your knit brows, your frowning lips. Your hair was darker than it was normally, and as he reaches out for it, he found it was, in fact, damp, "where have you been?"

"I..." you gulp and take a deep breath, "went swimming."

He releases your hair, tilting his head, "with whom? Gwayne has gone."

You pull your head back, "G-Gwayne's gone?"

"The tourney is over. The road is long. He has no reason to stay," Otto says.

Your brows tighten as you shake your head, "he... he didn't... wait for me?"

Otto watches your lips quiver. He watches your nose twitch. When your chest begins to visibly rise and fall, he shakes his head, "what did I tell you?"

You stare blankly at him.

He takes your hands, "what is it I always tell you?"

You clench your jaw and huff through your nostrils, "do not waste your tears on things you cannot change."

Otto rubs your knuckles as he shakes his head again. He gives the Cargyll brothers a look before walking off with you. They make sure to keep their distance before following after.

You turn to your father as he links your arm into his. You are certain, with how he cannot look at you, that he means to tell you something grave. You look front and mimic his demeanor— distant, cold. You are his daughter, face and temperance.

"You enjoyed your swim at least?" he starts, "you are calm?"

You gulp, mentally preparing yourself for what will surely come next. Your voice still falters though, "ye-s."

Otto nods, still not turning to you, "many has occurred since your marriage to Daemon. You admitted you did not consummate your marriage on your wedding night and I was deeply concerned you would fail your duties in producing heirs, especially if your husband was not interested in you."

Your jaw clenches.

"But with the apparent... change of heart your husband has shown, you should know I've had the maesters closely monitor your state."

You knit your brows at that, "you mean my affliction?"

He speaks your name slowly before continuing, "as of yesterday, they have confirmed to me that you are with child."

You whip your head to him and pull away.

Otto does not look at you with the same sense of urgency.

"W-what?"

He sees the fear on your features. He offers a solemn expression and takes your cheeks when your eyes water, "this is good. You should delight, not tremble."

You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.

"The Queen is dead. Go to your husband and comfort him with this news."

Your mouth goes dry and your father wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. He your name softly. Your sad face looks the exact same it did when his wife died. My baby is having a baby. He frowns and pulls away.

You try to take his hand, but he slips away.

"See her off," the Hand instructs your wards.

Erryk is quick to go to your side, whereas Arryk stares at the back of Otto's head, his lips curling as he did.

"Princess," Erryk says, cautiously reaching your arm.

You turn to him with wide eyes before scratching your tears away, "I-"

"Perhaps you should sit down first."

You pull away from him before he can touch you. The action makes Erryk pull back, an unsavory sensation spreading in his mouth and belly.

"I want to- I—" you take a breath, "I need to find-" you shake your head and begin speeding down the hall.

You were nearly about to break into a sprint, and your wards had to jog up to your side to keep up with you. You don't really know where you're going, but you're getting there, fast.

"Princess, please, slow down," one says.

You can feel your breath and your pulse in your ears.

"Princess."

You find yourself in the halls near one of the gate of the keep. The only reason why you stop is because you hear the voice of your twin. Your breath catches as you lurch towards the window. Gwayne was laughing with one of the guards, already on his horse. Your brows furrow, he couldn't possibly be well enough to be riding on horseback.

You realize quickly this is your last opportunity to go be with your brother, to pull him into an embrace, to worry on him, to tell him your worries, to kiss him goodbye. You know you have to act now and swiftly, but you cannot seem to move.

Your mind is heavy as you think about how your brother is set to leave regardless of your desire to keep close; he said it himself, his place can never be at your side. Though he is the only person who've ever relied on, you know now— you rub your belly, that can no longer be the case. There is only one person you can rely on now... yourself.

It is painful to pull away from the window, but you do, clenching your hands into fists before walking away.

You don't really walk away however, because then, you're frozen in place at the sight of your husband standing a few paces away from you, "Daemon."

He stares at you wordlessly.

You walk towards him, careful as you drag your feet.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw, "he's leaving any moment now."

You nod, "I know."

"Go to him," he says softly.

"I-"

"Go to him!" he snaps.

You stiffen at his expression. You were adept with anger but he did not look angry. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sense of his restless figure.

Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.

"If it is your command, I shall obey."

He chuckles dryly, pacing around his spot. He wipes his mouth then charges over, stopping just in front of you. He scoffs when you do not flinch, in disbelief of your constitution. His nostrils flare, "you know my feelings towards your twin."

You slowly shrug, "then you'll be glad to know I came looking for you."

Daemon does not move.

"You know how I feel about my brother..." you mutter, "but..." you lower your gaze, "I'm coming to terms with the fact I can no longer rely on him... it will be better this way."

It takes a moment, but Daemon chuckles. When you look up and his smirk fades. Your beady eyes make it hard to find satisfaction. "So, you will not go to him?" he asks.

You stare.

"You do not want to go to him?"

Your lips part.

He raises his brows.

"I... I do."

Anger rises up his belly, but as if on cue, the sound of horses and carriages moving is heard. You clench your jaw and lower you gaze to prevent yourself from looking back at the window. The prince cannot seem to win, for he should be pleased you did not see your brother off, and yet your sadness leaves sour jealousy in his mouth— he was your husband.

The Cargyll twins look upon you both, appalled by the cruelty of the prince to keep you here as Gwayne leaves for good. Erryk in particular feels restless, unable to stop shifting and fidgeting with his scabbard.

"Shall... shall we go?" you mutter, slowly looking up.

Daemon watches you place a hand on his bicep. He responds only by following you after giving your wards a dismissive look.

The brothers turn to each other, each as unwilling as the other to leave you, but they do anyway.

Daemon is acutely aware of the warmth of your cheek against his arm as you tread down the halls. When, you arrive at your marriage chambers, Daemon opens the door and you notice the bandage wrapped around his hand. He struggles because of this. Once you're inside, you take his arm, eyes trained on his injury, "what happened to your hand?"

Daemon's eyes are fixed on the line between your brows.

"Did you break it?" you turn to him with furrowed eyes.

He pulls away slowly. He wants to know what you'd do next.

"Did you wrap it yourself? It's badly done."

He faintly snorts, "it's on my right hand."

"I'll do it for you," you say, walking towards the vanity.

Daemon follows, watching you procure scissors and vials and other things. You turn to him, motioning to the chair. He sits down, gaze fixed upon you as you take his arm again.

Your eyes are focused on undoing his wrap, "tell me if it hurts,"

His are fixed on your focused expression, "you should sit down."

"I'm fine."

"I want you to sit down," he uses his other hand to grab your wrist.

You stop and turn to him. You turn to the chair across the room but Daemon prevents you from doing so and simply spreads legs, pulling you between his thighs. Quickly, you are sat on his lap and tense look at him. He offers you his injured hand again as his other goes around you, clinging to your hip. He pulls you in, leaning his head against yours to say, "it's a cut, by the way."

You furrow your brows at his admission. You allow yourself a moment to relax before continuing your task. You find it is, in fact, a cut, deep and ugly, "did your lance splinter very badly?"

"No."

You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,

"This is glass."

"Glass?" you brow raise, "how did you hurt your hand with glass?"

Daemon licks his lips as he looks at yours. He shrugs, "I broke a bottle."

You pull your head back, "on accident?"

"On purpose," he tilts his head.

You huff and start cleaning his wound, "was the violence in the tourney insufficient?"

He chuckles through his nostrils, "I did not fucking win."

You smear balm on his wound. You do not reply.

It makes him clench his jaw, "and you..."

"..."

"You were not there."

You do not tear your gaze from his injury.

He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"

You lift your gaze then raise brow at him, "you did not want me there. Do you not recall how you cursed at me?"

Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.

You continue wrapping up his hand.

"Well, you were being a bitch," he snaps.

"Why?"

His brows furrow.

"Why was I being a bitch?"

"..."

You spare him a quick glace.

He pulls his head back, "... what?"

"Did I not do my duty?" you turn to him, face blank, "I followed you, congratulated you, inquired of your injuries. I submitted to your desires. Where did I err?" You ask in earnest, "what do you want from me?"

His face contorts. Now that he was faced with such an opportunity, he finds himself unable to speak. What did he want from you?

You wait for him to reply. You prepare yourself for preposterous requirements but you are met only his silence. In that moment, you remember he was just a man. Many a man enjoyed making women suffer. You gulp, thinking about your father.

Perhaps your father was lying. Perhaps he wants you to believe you are with child to get even. After all, Daemon never... finished in you. How then could you be with child?

You secure the binding on his hand, "it is finished."

Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.

"How do you feel?"

He feels a strong urge to shake you... to pull you close.

"My deepest sympathies for the death of your cousin."

He freezes. Right. The queen was dead. He lowers his gaze.

You frown and reach for his cheek. You second guess however and bring your palm to his shoulder instead, "I am here for you, my prince."

His eyes meet yours.

"I am here to care and comfort you."

He leans back, taken by the thought.

You drink in his demeanor, the softness in his eyes, the tension that falls of his shoulders. You release a breath, "if that is what you desire, speak plainly, and do not repel me. Do not ask me to leave if, in fact, you want me to stay."

His throat tightens. He feels like he is ensnared in a bear trap. He rips at his collar, "I... I have other injuries." He pushes you off and paces around as he undoes his top. It is a struggle for him, but he cannot stop or stay still, "cuts and bruises."

You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.

"I don't-"

"Daemon."

He stills.

You come in front of him and undo his top yourself. You drop it mindlessly, and once he is bare, he feels conscious under your scrutiny for some reason. You brush your fingers on his ribs, making goosebumps form on his skin. He can't say that that has ever happened to him before. You notice and rub his arms, eyes locked on his torso.

He feels himself getting hard.

"Did you tend to these yourself as well?" you brush over a cut on his hip.

Oh. You were still examining him. He only hums in response.

You frown, "did no maester come to your tent?"

"I..." he starts.

You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.

"...wanted you to come to my tent."

You come to his side. He finds the frown on your face. You take a moment before saying, "you tended to your wounds well at least."

"I want you."

You nod, "I will tend to you—"

Daemon takes your nape, lowering his head to kiss your lips. It takes a moment for you to relax, and his belly burns at the sound you make when you do. Your hands come to his sides and your nails graze faintly into his flesh.

He pushes you back until your laid on the bed beneath him. His kisses trail down your skin as he works to get you naked. He kisses your shoulder, then your sternum. He makes sure to lick your breast and leave a mark on your rib before peppering kisses down your belly.

Your breath grows heavy when he lingers by your womb, sucking kisses on your skin. Your throat tightens think of your father's words again. It makes you tense, and Daemon feels it. Of course, he doesn't know about your conversation with Otto, and thinks your tension comes from your self-consciousness.

You lift your head, pulling a pillow beneath it, and look down at your husband. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, "Daemon."

He hums, nipping your flesh in response.

You try to sit up, "D-Daemon, I-"

He shushes you, pushing down on your hip bone. He looks up at you, muttering something in High Valyrian.

"Please, Daemon, wait-"

"Be still," he says, violet eyes hooded, "do I not take care of you?"

Your breath hitches as he sinks down.

"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"

"I- that's not-"

"Do you or do you not?"

"I... I do���"

You are not able to speak after he buries his face between your thighs. You are reduced to breathy cries and a twisting spine. Daemon, though he continues to hold you down, relishes every second of it and feasts more ardently. He sighs, securing your thighs on his shoulders, nudging his face deeper into you, his nose brushing against your pearl.

He relishes how quickly your wetness builds, and soon, he feels your arousal dribbling down his chin. He moans, nails biting crescent moons into your skin. Your belly rises and falls in sync with the crescendo of your mewls. At this point, both your hands are tangled into his hair, and your pulling and scratching only further inspires his tongue.

You call out his name, screwing your eyes shut as you throw your head back and arch your body. Quickly, your belly tightens and you sequentially dig your heels into his shoulder blades. He squeezes your thighs enough to make them bruise, and yet the pain is what pushes you into orgasm, garnering a lewd and loud sound from your mouth.

Daemon hums, lifting his face just enough to see yours as he brings you to peak. He moans at your expression, grinding his hips into the cushion, desperate for friction.

Your body trembles, unable to settle as his burning mouth persists on your molten mound. You begin to squeak and he catches the moment you open your eyes to look at him all teary. It drives him mad. With a deep inhale, he pulls away, wiping his chin before he undoes his breeches.

You relax and catch your breath, hands dropping to your sides.

Daemon watches you, your trembling legs glistening with the pleasure he's drawn out. He can feel himself throbbing in his pants. You watch as he hastily frees himself. Though your head was hazy and your body was tried, your belly burned at sight of the sticky liquid dripping down your husband's neck.

"Fuck, Daemon," you reach for his belly. You trace his defined muscles with your finger tips. He snatches your hands when he finally pushes his pants down.

You squeak when he pushes you to your side, one hand on your shoulder, another hiking your leg up by the knee. You whine as he folds you into the sheets just before sliding his hardened cock in your wet cunt.

He hisses, leaning down to your neck. His words are hot against your skin, but you understand nothing.

Whatever tenderness he had before was gone, now he was just fucking you like a rabid animal. Daemon could not help himself, he loved how supple and pliable you were, and twists you into a form that keeps you prone. When the bed begins to creak because of his thrusts, he holds you down where your neck and collarbone meet. He puts enough pressure to restrict your breathing, but not enough to choke out your pretty noises.

At some point, he decides your leg is getting in the way and pushes you flat on your chest. He then gathers you by the hip, hiking you up enough to fuck you nicely from behind.

His thrusts are more intense now. You scream into the cushion as you find your elbows. Before you can prop yourself up though, he's pinning you down by the shoulder, saying something in High Valyrian again.

"D-Daemon," you whine, left cheek smushed against your pillow. You could feel your next climax building quickly.

He responds by rubbing your clit, drawing tears and another scream out of you because of your sensitivity.

You feel yourself helplessly clenching and unclenching around him, absolutely boneless under his vigorous intrusion. You could feel your knees slipping but Daemon's grip on you would not see you move from your position. Your toes curl. Saliva drips out your open mouth.

"Māzigon va, riña," he snorts, "sepār mirrī angotan tolī." Come on, girl. Just a little bit more."

You do not understand, so you only whine out, "Daemon."

Daemon growls and rubs one side of your ass, "you're doing so good for me."

He spanks you, but that's not what makes your eyes open.

"Milk my cock with your tight cunny, come slut."

You begin to grit your teeth.

"I want to see my seed dripping down your thighs," he groans, mind unable to focus on anything but the hot, wet slapping of your skin.

It's unsurprising that you come first, as Daemon always assures you do to underscore his control and dominance over you. He yelps out a sharp fuck, nearly coming in your cunt because of how your body seizes up around him. Your orgasm overwhelming, yet your eyes water for more than this reason. His words make you aware your husband sees you nothing more as a vessel for pleasure, and your pleasure is regretfully cut short because of how sharply he pulls out, his load spraying on your already dripping labia and pubic hair.

He strokes himself a few times, feeling his cock twitch in his hand as he watches your mixed come trickle down your legs. He sighs, "fuck," then scoops the cream in two fingers, plunging it in and out your still spasming cunt.

You squeal when he finger fucks you, body unable to remain upright. You are grateful he loses interest rather quickly and crumble into the bed as he stands.

You watch him walk over to the drawer, where he then pours himself some wine. You gulp, remembering your dream from last night. It sobers you out your high. You clench your jaw and roll over to clean yourself up. You head to your vanity and wipe yourself down, grabbing your robe was you do.

Daemon, whose thirst was now quenched, turns back to you with a towel. He is confused to see you standing. He watches you flip your hair behind you, pulling it out of your robe, which you then secure around yourself. He knits his brows as he walks over, "what are you doing?"

You turn to him, sitting on the vanity chair, "getting ready for bed."

Daemon stares, and you take his prolonged silence as an indication to proceed with your nightly routine.

The prince squeezes the damp towel in his hand as he watches you brush your hair. You catch his stillness from the mirror and turn back to him, "oh."

You drop your brush and take the towel from him, "I'll help you clean up."

Normally, he enjoyed this, but right now, he can't. He is offended when you begin to pick up his clothes, so much that he scoffs, "the fuck are you doing?"

You halt midway picking up his trousers. You stand and turn to the closet, "ah. Did you want new clothes?"

He pulls his head back, no longer offended, but hurt, "you want me to leave?"

You are caught off guard by his question. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. You could not identify his expression, so you did not know if you tell him the truth. You would not survive being berated after confessing you wanted to sleep with him. You dodge the answer altogether, "weren't you leaving anyway?"

Daemon's cheeks tense. He huffs, stepping forward, yanking his clothes out of your hands, "no."

You are bewildered by his actions, for to you, his actions are sudden. You are petrified in fear, which is why you instinctively begin to apologize, "f-forgive me, I-I-"

His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.

"I-" you motion with a hand, "- you always leave."

His clenches his jaw, "do you want me to leave?"

"I—" your throat tightens and soon you can no longer look at him. You want to beg him to stay, but you recall how you did that with your father, and your mother, and your brother— begging does not make people stay. You whisper, "I... I'm terrified."

When you lift your gaze, Daemon shirks and decided to dress. He gulps as he pulls his trousers up, turning back to you. He clenches his fist before reaching out for you.

Your heart races as he takes your hand.

"You've served me well. If you are terrified... I'll leave you."

You whimper when he pulls away, holding him tighter than he did before your hands part. Your lips quiver. He knits his brows. You shake your head, "I- I... I do not want you to go."

He is taken off guard by how you suddenly embrace him.

"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."

He turned to stone. He cannot seem to move at all but your arms are determined to stay around him. You begin to weep against his skin and he can feel your breath grow ragged. Only then does he manage to return your affection.

He brushes your dark hair away from your face and cradles you against him.

"Daemon."

He leans into you, enough to be able to brush his cheek against yours, "kesan umbagon." I will stay.

You sniffle then sigh. After a while, you ask, "what does that mean?"

"I will stay."

You sigh again, pulling away to look at him. You offer him a sad smile, "thank you."

He frowns, wiping your tears.

When you go back to bed, you offer him space in case you've made him uncomfortable. He stares at you, awaiting your embrace. You are mere inches apart but it feels like yards and yards.

"Good night, husband," you say before turning over.

He chuckles dryly, staring at your dark hair. He turns to the ceiling, "good night."

[emo-trash101]

HELLO HELLO HELLO ONYX‼️‼️‼️

I SAW THAT YOU'RE BACK

I MISSED YOU SO MUCH OMG.

(and your writing but you're more important <3)

ALSO WITH ARCANE??? YOU FEED ME.

So yeah,you guessed it,Arcane asking time‼️

May I have Salo (He's my baby girl I love him he's my favorite LOOK AT MY WIFE HE'S SO PRETTY.),Silco,Singed,Vander,Ambessa,Mel,Jayce and Viktor (feel free to remove or change some of them,I just love giving people a wide range of characters to choose from!! I just want Salo the most ajgehhw) with a CHILD!reader (haha platonic asker is back >:3) that they basically adopted from Zaun with a weird condition that makes them need to breathe through a filtering mask? Because they can't breathe normal air and has to get a certain gas in their lungs otherwise they aren't okay? Imagine it breaking after they get in a fight with someone or fall and they all just panic...

So basically gas mask baby. Just a little silly guy.

So yeah!! I really hope you enjoy writing this prompt,my dear friend!!!

Don't forget to eat,drink and take breaks as always!!

Always stay proud!!

Your mutual and friend,

-Nina <33

OMG IK IM SO EXCITED TO BE BACK! ALSO HAPPY THANKSGIVING IF ITS THIS TIME OF YEAR FOR YOU :))

Salo, Vander, Jayce and Victor x Asthmatic! Child

Platonic

Pronouns: Second person

Tw: illness, potential child endangerment (It's arcane so ERM, what else do you expect) Also potential spoilers

Salo -

- I think he was like most people from piltover and was like "UHM, what is this dirty little dirt baby doing near me why are they coughing are they diseased?"

- I think the beginning of him taking you in would be like, he decides you probably shouldn't be in the road coughing and essentially on the verge of perishment.

- So he takes you to the nearest doctors office and is like fully prepared to just, disappear.

- That was until the doctor looks at him and says "Oh, councilor Salo, I didn't know you had a child?"

- After that he just, accepted his fate as a father.

- At first I don't think he would be that warm and comforting, but it's just generally an adjustment period.

- He learns to take care of you through long amounts of trial and error, and eventually you both form a decent connection.

- It wasn't exactly father and child, but more so friendly roommates

- That was until you finally got your diagnosis.

- Before now he was kinda just your dad in theory, sure he fed you and helped you when you cried and comforted you through long nights when you couldn't breathe but that was completely and totally just because he had to.

- But something inside of him just feels so sad for you when the doctor first straps your mask onto your face.

-After that your relationship changes for the better.

-You both seem to bond and become more close in a way that he wasn't exactly expecting.

-He becomes more vigilant about what you eat and what you're doing and making sure that you don't break your mask.

- Eventually, he feels more like your dad in a real sense, not just on metaphorical paper.

Vander (Pre ep3) -

- At first he wasn't exactly going to become fatherly figure to you.

- I mean after all he has 4 other children he has to look after and you surely have parents somewhere.

- It took one week for the powder and the others to get used to you being there, and 2 weeks for Vander to realize no one was coming for you.

- After that Vander decided that it was better to just take you under his wing and care for you.

- First thing he did after deciding that was getting into contact with the best doctor in Zaun to try and figure out why you were coughing so much.

- The next thing he did was try not to cry when they forced the mask onto you so that you could breathe.

- After that though, things went significantly well.

- You bonded more closely with Powder than anyone, mainly because of the feeling of being both the youngest and the least helpful.

- Even when they did take you on missions, you'd get out of breath, or get your mask broken.

- Vander learned very fast that he should learn how to fix it.

- But after that, everything was good, and you had a family for as long as that could last.

Jayce -

- Of most of the people in Piltover, I think he would be the one of the most inclined to help you.

- I feel like he would pretty consistently take walks out, and that's where he would find you.

- He would find you sitting against a wall coughing so hard it was sure to have been heard at least a mile away.

- He would definitely panic and try to talk to you and figure out what happened, and then realize that verbal communication is the least effective communication for him to have picked.

-So instead he picks you up and rushes you to the nearest doctors office.

- With the way that he's so panicked and treating you so kindly, the doctors just assume that he's your father.

- After the doctors explain to him what your illness is he immediately thinks of Victor.

- At first, his reason behind taking care of you was that he was just making sure you were okay before he looks for your real parents.

- But eventually, he just gets so used to you being around that he kinda just forgets that he should be looking for them, and instead just leans into the fatherly role.

- It took a lot of sleepless nights and a lot of conversations with Mel to figure out how to take care of a child and how to progress with your illness.

- And after all of it, he officially files for adoption of you.

- And he's the best dad you could ever ask for

Victor -

- Objectively, I think he would be the best out of all of them.

- He likely found you before he went to Piltover, and he took care of you almost immediately.

- He knows how it feels to be different from other kids your age, what it's like to be made just, wrong.

-He cares for you, and eventually he moves you both to Piltover.

-It was an extremely risky decision for him to have made, but it was for you to get a good doctor, and for him to get a good job.

- After you receive your mask and your diagnosis, he becomes more protective.

- He cleans your mask once a day to make sure it doesn't build up gunk and becomes more dangerous to your lungs.

- He also becomes more vigilant on what you're doing and if that can cause your mask to break.

- After he eventually receives his diagnosis, he decides that after his time is up that he's going to give you to Jayce.

- But before that time comes, he's gonna love you like you're his own.

UHM I feel like these got aggressively more depressing but it's probably fine, I hope you enjoyed this one Nina!

Make sure to drink water and eat food :)

[arvandus]

Ok more thoughts on Dabi’s ending…

Like I’m not even mad about him dying, honestly. I get that his story has always been one riddled in tragedy. I love tragic characters so tragic endings sorta come with the package (still crying over the ending for Loki season 2).

I appreciate, from a literary standpoint, the impact of dying by one’s own rage. Of letting that hurt and anger literally consume you until there’s practically nothing left of you. I see that that is what they were going for with him, and that part is FINE. Sad as fuck, but not shocking, not surprising.

The issue I have with it is the context and overall messaging. The fact that Dabi dies but Endeavor doesn’t; I’m not even saying that Enji needed to die, and he does get permanently injured and has to give up hero work. BUT the fact that Enji, the abuser and the source of so many people’s pain, not only lives but gets to still have the support of at least some of his family (Natsuo, I love you baby!) leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I think it’s because I’ve never found Enji’s redemption very convincing. I’m not saying this in a “he’s evil and has no soul” sort of way, but it’s more in the fact that his actions have always been rooted in cowardice and ego. The fact that Enji gives up being a hero because he got injured in battle rather than giving up being a hero willingly because it was the very thing that made him so toxic and awful to begin with… meh. Not to mention he still had his son face off with his other son instead of confronting him directly. He still dilly dallied and never went searching for Touya after their initial conflict and reveal even though Shouto wanted to. That’s what I mean when I say Enji’s redemption was half-assed. He was too much of a coward and too focused on being a hero to the masses instead of being a father to his children and that never changed for him. So did he realize what he did in the past was wrong? Yes. Did he feel bad about it? Sure. Did he take the appropriate steps to right past wrongs? No. No he fucking didn’t. Too little, too late.

But it’s not just about Enji. It’s also the hopelessness that’s communicated by Shouto failing to save his brother and never have soba with him in the end. And it’s a message of hopelessness that’s communicated with Toga and Shigaraki’s deaths as well. I don’t know if they we’re going for a “loss of innocence/you can’t save everyone” sort of vibe as a part of the student characters growing up into adults, but it still just made it all feel sort of… pointless in the end. And that pointlessness was emphasized even more by how unmoved they all seemed to be in the aftermath/ending of the story. Not really much mourning, not really much regret. Add to that that the overall status quo seems to be maintained, and really it feels as if nothing has changed; nothing has gotten better (even though supposedly it has??).

I dunno. Take what I say with a grain of salt cuz I haven’t read the ending and I’ve gotten the info from tumblr screenshots. But I’m tired and don’t have it in me to pick it back up again. If the characters are going to die, that’s fine, but make it meaningful, make it worth it, make it cataclysmic in the ushering in of a better world. Give me systems of support within the society to help people in need, people with dangerous quirks. Give me a dismantling of the popularity aspect of heroism, because a system built on the monetization and entertainment cannot also be a moral system. Show me how you’re addressing the toxicity of hero worship, how you’re dismantling the pedestals so that quirkless children aren’t bullied and heroes aren’t driven to madness in the fight to the top.

If you can’t give me those things, then what’s the point. It’s just more of the same. Your story gave us nothing.

[monstersinthecosmos]

I read your answer, where did you say "Pandora is his actual type and Armand was his pet"

But how could Armand be just a pet for him? He is one of only three of his turned children. Marius speaks of him as the greatest love (along with Pandora). Although I see some hypocrisy in this. Marius loves no one as much as Pandora. But certainly more than just a pet

Well !

Babe the thing is that, I said what I said and it’s okay if you don’t agree!!! And I’m gonna take this opportunity to double down. (Assuming that you’re asking in good faith and not to pick on me for my analysis lmao please this fandom has traumatized me too much.)

(((TLDR the text never treats Armand like he’s Marius’s equal but also I never said that being a pet was a bad thing.)))

I want to start by talking about the concept of MAKER in VC and how canon tells us that vampires exist outside of human social constructs, including traditional family roles right? Like for example, the moment Gabrielle is turned, she ceases to be Lestat’s mother. 

But with Marius I think a lot about how he’s crafted a persona for himself, and tries to operate in a very rigid set of rules. And part of this is like, how determined he is to live by stoicism even when he’s a mess on the inside, but I also think about in TVL when he says that thing about how it’s easier to just knock a glass on the floor, and how he goes out of his way to appear more human and retain human gestures. 

So like, in the way a MAKER is kinda like, a parent/lover/companion/something too big for our tiny human minds to comprehend. We still get a Marius who is determined to be a father & mentor, and I think a lot about how his need for stoicism and humanity is probably also expressed with his need to be the paterfamilias. 

I’ve been also thinking a lot lately about Bad Fathers in Media—specifically people like Tony Soprano, Logan Roy, Roderick Usher—and how the toxic patriarchy affects their relationships with their sons. Tony Soprano in particular is one who resonates with me a lot when I think about Marius—Tony often indulges in anger because he enjoys being feared (he thinks it’s respect but it’s usually fear), and that’s a bit different on a material level from Marius “anger is too pathetic” de Romanus but they’re both sort of obsessed with the idea of stoicism and trying to be a ~ strong silent type ~ on the outside, even when they’re actually quite messy and emotional underneath.

But wait — put a pin in this for a second. We’ll come back to this, and the concept of fathers and sons. I want to pause real quick to swerve to clarify:

Armand being a pet isn’t a bad thing.

It wasn’t “pet (derogatory) 😒” —  it’s “pet (adorable creature that I care for) 🥰”.

Here’s the thing about MARIMAND if you will (I hate all the VC ship names oh my god theyre all hideous lmao) but like OKAY OKAY. THE THING IS. WHAT ARE WE HERE FOR IF WE’RE NOT INTO THE FUCKEDUPEDNESS ? 

Like I’m not telling anyone how to enjoy a ship, please have fun ! Do you! But to ME? That inter-species friction and 1,517 year age gap is like WHAT THE DYNAMIC IS ABOUT, THAT’S THE FLAVOR BABY!!! Anne Rice herself even said the book was about “a boy’s love for a monster” !!

WHAT’S THE POINT OF MONSTERFUCKER EROTICA IF HE’S NOT A MONSTER LOL

And YEAH I get that not everyone wants to read TVA as a monsterfucker story. That’s okay! It also reads as a savior fantasy. But I enjoy the messiness of it—I LIKE that Marius is an apex predator & ghoulish ancient thing. I like that it’s problematic. I LOVE that Marius really does love him, though, amidst all these other themes. I find it SO compelling.

But I never once said that Marius doesn’t love him. Of course Marius loves him. What I said is that he loves Armand the way we love a pet. I would fucking die for my cats. I regularly burst into tears looking at my cats because I love them so much. But they’re fucking cats lmao.

I never for one minute forget that Marius isn’t human. He’s operating on a whole different wavelength with different points of references and ethics and life experiences. Like, people get so hung up on Armand being 17 and IT WOULD BE JUST AS BAD IF HE WAS 18 OR 25 OR 30 LOL. A frail little human cannot comprehend !!!!!

What’s interesting with Marius’s fledglings though is that he tends not to treat them as equals. Like I think you could read TVA thinking: Once Marius turns him, they’ll be real partners. But no, they stick to their mentor/mentee, dom/sub, father/son roles. We don’t have tons of examples in canon of other maker/fledgling relationships but it’s not a coincidence that Roman Patriarch Marius maintains status over his fledglings. Even once Armand is a vampire, he’s still not Marius’s equal, and Marius’s age and power are still held over him. 

BUT LIKE.

That’s weird, right?

I MEAN THE DARK GIFT IS DIFFERENT FOR EVERYONE but it’s interesting to me that Lestat & Gabrielle’s relationship completely dissolves once she’s a vampire, but Marius & Armand’s doesn’t.

(Sidebar that like, I think there’s also ways to acknowledge that if we think their relationship is good that it’s OKAY for them to maintain these roles because Armand WANTS to be his sub but let me focus on my point here. We should also make time to talk about diegetic BDSM and whether or not it’s appropriate to use a D/s framework for this discussion if the roles are baked into the text and not a choice for the characters and not a game they are agreeing to but that’s for another post.)

So back to the thing about fathers.

I’ve been thinking a lot about bad father characters, specifically Logan Roy and Tony Soprano (also bad mother Margaret Chenowith) and the impossible standards they give their children. Logan and Tony are both men who are disappointed in their sons for being soft, because they were able to provide better lives for their children. They both spoil their sons with all the material wealth that they did not have in their own lives. For Logan we see how badly he resents his kids—Kendall even accuses him of being jealous of what they have—and for Tony he seems to be at a loss on how to parse his feelings. Part of him literally hates AJ for being such a whimsical little fuckup, and at the same time he wants to protect that part of AJ and doesn’t even WANT AJ to follow in his footsteps. Still, he hates to see that AJ is spoiled with no work ethic, and doesn’t know how to set an example for him.

Everything in Venice is designed to spoil Armand with all the things Marius didn’t get—it’s such a specific & deliberate opposite of how Marius was turned. And I think him seeing Armand as a pet puts a little bit of distance between the hurt he’d feel if he thought of Armand as a true son, or even an equal. He doesn’t have to resent Armand for having it easier than he did, but also doesn’t have to feel extremely betrayed by Armand fitting in with the cult. Like, let’s never 4get that by the time Marius catches up with Armand, Armand is right at home and thriving with them. A CULT? THE THING THAT KILLED ME????? Marius has no idea what the fuck they did to him, he just knows that Armand settled in just fine and has discarded everything that Marius tried to teach him. 

I think these roles are appropriately all muddled because it’s VC—like we said, the No Social Constructs series—so like, how do we compare the words SON and PET and FLEDGLING and SUB, I’m not sure. But my point is that he’s never seen or treated Armand as an equal, and perhaps never even a full adult person. 

ARE THESE IDEAS CONFLICTING? A little. But that’s okay. Am I incoherent and ill-equipped to tackle this analysis or is it because Marius is not a consistent person and never quite lives up to the ideal he’s trying to be? Does he want Armand to be his pet but secretly has feelings? Does he fail at being a father figure? Is he brushing off his Big Big Emotions so that he doesn’t have to admit how wrecked and destroyed he is and how badly his feelings were hurt? Idk man. I’m sure you can send me another anon to tell me I’m wrong. 

I wonder sometimes if like, keeping Armand at this lower status (like a pet) actually protects Armand from Marius’s ire and disappointment. Marius is sort of a father, but sort of not. He’s crafted a role for himself that is never all the way sincere, and it allows him some space to protect his own feelings of betrayal and disappointment when it comes to Armand. Marius is also classically bad at following his own rules, and never quite sticks the landing on the people he’s trying to be. 

I can imagine a version of events where Armand does gain some ground with Marius, maybe pays his dues and matures into someone that Marius trusts and respects, but that’s not the version of events we get in canon. Marius turns Armand, Armand remains his pupil, they visit Kiev and Marius is jealous of Armand’s father, they make it all the way to the raid without Marius ever confiding about The Parents. Even in the present day, during a dispute, Marius tells Armand he has the savage & ignorant soul of a child. Even in the present day, Marius won’t stop calling him Amadeo!!!! 

And like!!!!! It feels like Marius is more upset about Santino wronging him by ruining his home and taking his toys than he is about what Santino did to ARMAND. It’s more about Marius’s own feelings and possessions than it is about Armand’s own feelings and experience of what happened. AN ARMAND FRIDGING, IF YOU WILL. 

Anyway.

By never seeing Armand as a complete person, Marius never has to feel threatened by him. We see this in toxic parents a lot. Like, I want you to be good, but I’m insecure if you’re better than me. Or I can never fully respect your feelings because I always see you as a child and not a fully grown adult. And the truth is that Marius is actually quite threatened by Armand, on the inside. He is very hurt. He cares what Armand thinks of him. He’s relieved at the end of BCtu when he assumes that Armand wants to open his heart again. 

So idk like. I think the books end with a little bit of a hope for them; we see a lot of growth and self-acceptance from Marius in the last book and it’s reasonable to assume that he and Armand might have a long chat and nice long cry and work it out. I don’t think it’s completely set in stone, but it’s nice to think about! A nice happy ending. And I wonder if this is when Marius finally takes Armand seriously and listens to what he has to say without demeaning him! 

Am I gonna add 2000 more words to this point by tying it what the whole like “I fear him because I could love him again” thing in TVA means? No I’m not. But like. Again! It’s okay to be a pet, I think Armand liked being his pet. :) 

[amiserableseriesofevents]

Ok so we have DILF!Gale thanks to @avonne-writes and I love him to bits but this au made me think: what about DILF!John?

Single dad John who split with his wife/girlfriend (I'm thinking amicably but it also could've been rough) because things weren't going well anymore but they have a kid and John just loves being a father, he's a proud owner of a "Best Dad in the World" mug and all that.

So he's juggling coparenting a young child and trying to get some kind of social life back now that he's single, and maybe Curt invites him some place one night and he meets Gale.

Gale who's been with Marge for years before coming to terms with his homosexuality and is now rejecting anything that reminds him of a traditional relationship, like marriage and especially children.

Gale and John hit it off right away, and maybe John doesn't explicitly state that he has a kid but keeps referring to them (the decision wether it's a boy or a girl is still pending but I'm thinking girl) with funny nicknames and Gale can't picture John as a father so he just assumes John's talking about his dog — he know he has one because he's showed him pictures, while he didn't show him his child because he's very cautious about that stuff.

So they start hanging out, they have sex a few times, and the thing progresses well so after a while they decide to bring their relationship to the following step; for John, it means introducing Gale and his child.

Gale almost has a heart attack when he finds out John has a child ("How could you not know?? I talk about them all the time!" "You called them my sweet potato how was I supposed to know you were talking about your child and not your dog?!") and at first he backs the hell up because it's not that he doesn't like children, they're nice, but he doesn't want to have one. And being with John would mean have a child too and it's just too much for him right now.

Cue to lots of mutual pining, John's assumption that he cannot be loved (yeah he's always a drama queen), Gale's realization that he can have a family if it's with someone he loves (yeah he's always a bit dumb with feelings)... all that and more, until a happy ending is reached!

Thoughts?

[mooniemilkieway]

Laughing Jack Headcanons Part 2

this is literally my character app lmfao I've been coming up with ideas about him since I started fangirling (badly) for him again so let's go.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

(gif/animation by @/ijustwannahavefun)

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

★。＼｜／。★

⛧ Laughing Jack is essentially corrupted by Lucifer to be used as a weapon to obtain his vengeance on God for casting him out. When an angel was traveling the Jack-in-the-Box to Isaac, Lucifer sent one of his demons to attack the angel and put a "curse" on the box. This could explain why Laughing Jack-even before Isaac abandoned him-seemed to be murderous as he mutilated a cat when him and Isaac were playing outside.

⛧ LJ does have more of an "virtuous" voice. He has a gentle, almost father like, voice. It's usually for when he wants engage with someone he genuinely likes or if he wants to calm someone down. However, don't let this deceive you as it could be because of manipulation. Once he starts showing his true motives, his voice would become more sinister.

(His "innocent" voice headcanon that being Sebastian Michaelis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgBWOTtTp4Q)

(His "malicious" voice headcanon that being Alex Brightman's Beetlejuice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMrt9demNeA)

⛧ He takes interest in porcelain harlequin dolls. He was first introduced into making them around the late 1900s when he was targeting one of his victims and their brother was a merchant for harlequin dolls. Obviously LJ killed his victim and the brother because they were scamming and being evil by abusing their nephews and based on his new hobby, he captured their souls and sealed them in two porcelain harlequin dolls he created. They are both in a small, glass display in on of LJ's carnival tents.

⛧ Relating back to the previous one, Laughing Jack doesn't kill innocent children or people for that matter. Sure, he may scare or tease you, but he would never lay a finger on you unless if you are that of vile soul. Especially if you abuse children.

⛧ Laughing Jack loves studying astronomy. Whenever he walks outside on a full moon with stars aligned in the night sky, he would always wonder what it'll be like to travel across the galaxy. He even thought about if there's other life forms on different planets. This can explain why he is more stronger magic wise during the full moon period.

⛧ He is also a writer. When he began writing was as the same time Isaac was still being homeschooled. He learned how to do cursive writing. He would definitely write letters either warning someone about the dangers that lie ahead of them or would write a threatening one to his victim.

⛧ Laughing Jack has photophobia or has sun-sensitive eyes. This is most likely because he has been stuck in a dark, enclosed area for almost 13 years. He can technically be in sunlight but he'll have discomfort. So if you want to get away from him just shine a really bright flashlight in his eyes. One of the people Laughing Jack was protecting noticed this and offered him a pair of their old glasses because they had the same condition. LJ does wear them but only when no one can see his as he doesn't want to seem "vulnerable."

⛧ He is also very...old fashion. He prefers listening to music by a vinyl and a record player and doesn't understand the concept of technology or what the new generation is into. He is also very concerned about the "Get Alpha" slang...

⛧ If Laughing Jack gets stabbed or has one of his limbs cut off he could easily attach it back by sewing that area with just needle and thread and wrap it with his iconic bandages and it'll function like normal.

⛧ He loves the snow. Especially when it's at night. He finds it very magical and would take someone out with him to a snowy forest so they could have a walk and talk to each other about their deepest feelings.

⛧ His scent is that of a victoria sponge cake. It is actually a strong smell that you probably wouldn't even think it came from him.

⛧ For funnies, yes Laughing Jack does know all of the Sanrio characters.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜

[lazy-sixteen]

Still on my pathologic kick, anyway, character relationships we don't talk enough about but that make me insane, Artemy addition

Artemy and Capella

First off, just the fact that she can, has, and will psychically, unconsciously SOS him across town. We need to talk about that,

and like the fact it's unconscious, please image post-canon Capella accidentally summoning Artemy bc she and Khan had a fight. Giant, angry doctor on call at any moment against both their wills

Their first conversation where she tells him about curling up in her mother's coffin, "of course we're friends", presenting herself as still weak and coming into her powers vs. their conversation at the Cape, denying an emotional connection, "we're not friends", saying she can do it all on her own - I'm insane. I don't even think it's manipulation, I think she wants an adult who treats her like a child - not a reincarnation of her mother- but gets frightened at the possibility of losing even a drop of her control. The way she specifically denied seeing Artmey as a father.

Capella desperately wanting to be her mother and to have an adult's responsibilities as a Mistress and the children of the town's mother (the way she calls Artemy's list, "our children" - like they are both adults) vs. Artemy seeing how much Capella can resemble her (shitty) dad and being the one person reminding Capella she's not her mother and she is a child, and he'll treat her like one.

The role of the White Mistress based on Victoria's Tomb as "being" the town vs. Artemy specifically talking about the Town calling him - He'll always hear Capella's troubles and pain

And we're back to the psychic SOS thing, but like from a humorous standpoint she really could do the "projecting my period cramps meme"

Artemy and Khan

Okay this is shorter, because they don't interact much but their conversation after the House of Death where Khan gets mad at Artemy for letting him and Notkin go into the dangerous house makes me want to scream

Like not in a bad way - Khan has a point that it was irresponsible to let him and Notkin do that (as does Artemy in that he couldn't really stop them), but just ....

Super independent Peter Pan-meets-child dictator character's first response being "Why didn't you (an adult) stop me (a child)?" is wild

He gives very similar vibes to Capella in which they will loudly declared they don't see Artemy as a parental figures and don't want him to be one, while simultaneously desperately (and likely unconsciously) really wanting the safety net of an adult who will selflessly care for them - something they don't have due to their (1) weird families' expectations of them as future mistress/Kain, (2) their own hyper-competence and independence

Artemy and Andrey

This isn't as serious, I just think it's funny that Andrey has suggestive lines at Artemy in patho1 and patho2. Also is like genuinely pretty friendly with him in both (he'll give you Tyrwine for checking on Peter and he's outright help in his 1st Patho 1 sidequest)

Also just straight up, doesn't believe Artmey if he takes credit for destroying the Polyhedron

Like in fan depictions, I often see them not getting along, but I'm 99% sure Andrey's impression of Artemy is "My Hot and Helpful Weed (Twyr) dealer" - outside of Dankovsky, he's the Utopian who probably likes Artemy the most

Meanwhile Artemy gives off strong "i am choosing to barely register a word coming out of this man's mouth for my own sanity" vibes

Aspity and Dankovsky vs. Aspity and Artmey

Okay, mixing Pathologic 1 and Pathologic 2 here a bit which might not be fair as Aspity in general does seem more serious in Pathologic 2 (even for Daniil in the Marble Nest)

BUT the sheer whiplash of Aspity calling Daniil a prickly prick and monologuing suggestively about naked women at him in Patho1 vs.

Declaring herself Artemy's spiritual elder-sister/mother, keeping his inheritance safe, trying to save him from a cruel fate with Patches even at the cost of her life in Patho2

The whiplash is wild, I want to lock the three of them in a room and see what she does

Artemy and Taya

I love that being the co-ruler/enforcer/parental figure mix to one weird-magical little girl ruler who can magically communicate with him wasn't enough

Taya subconsciously yoinking Artemy into her dreams to play dolls or tell her stories - he hasn't slept in a week

Also I think it would be really interesting post-canon to look at how they are doing as the two big spiritual and political leaders of the Kin

[icarusredwings]

It gets to the point where they start argueing about this and Wade is so angry and so upset that through grit teeth and hot tears

"Well, no one came to rescue ME!.... and I'll be damned if they ever feel abandoned like that."

And it's a big therapy moment. A massive "oh.... ouch... yeah that makes sense.." moment.

"But baby you dont even give me time to try. I-... I dont know.. how to do this I.. im learning."

And so, still full of anger and paternal rage he bites he starts biting his tounge. Coming and just.. standing there. Sometimes he's glaring simply because this type of crying just dosn't sit well with his Ptsd and immediately wants to put a stop to it and give the child justice. But he waits. He waits and watches as Logan fixes it.

Once the crying stops it kind of deactivates that little soilder inside of him that so desperately wants to keep his kids safe.

"I'm their father-"

"And that didn't fucking stop mine! Now, did it?"

"But Wade, I'm not him. I'll never be him."

"My mother stood there and watched it all without a word Logan. I won't-..." He's choking on his tears. "I- REFUSE.. to be like that."

"I get that, but you have to understand that you are not her. And I am not him. I would never hit them"

"Yeah because if you did I'd fucking kill you! Like actually find a way to kill you. I would put you under, drag your ass to the middle of the fucking ocean, and watch you drown! And when they ask where you wen-"

"Wade... Wade! Stop. Breathe. I know that you're scared and I know.. that.. your brain dosn't want to trust me. That you will never be able to trust anyone 100% with them. Ever... but please. I need you to trust me at least 90. Can you give me 90?" He asks, hands on his shoulder as he can already see his husband dry heaving, tears running down his face as hes already about to slip back into that state of protective violence.

"....you get 5 minutes." He states, walking away before he ends up saying or doing something he will regret.

So he starts getting 5 minutes to fix it.

5 minutes to make it all better.

5 minutes for his actions to prove to Wade that he can be trusted. That he doesn't have to go all winter soilder on his ass the moment he hears one of the kids crying.

"Kids cry wade. Its what they do."

"Youre their father. Youre not supposed to make them cry..."

But now things are better.

Now his head will snap the other way, and watch. Staring in that direction rather if someone is talking to him or not.

"Hush."

"Excus-"

"SHUT UP... one of my babies is crying...." so he stares. Watching as Logan comes to scoop up the little tyke that skinned their knee at the park and give them kisses. The crying still happens because obviously theyre spooked and probably hurt a wee bit, but seeing him fully take care of it switches off that instant rage and he turns back like "what were you saying?"

He just can't silence that scream in his head, telling him that Logan (or someone else) is hurting them, so it needs proof that he isn't (as bad as that sounds)

Hurting his poor little babies.

Esspecially if it IS a baby. Wade would be extremely over possesive over a baby. The older the kid gets (and if they have healing factors or not) the more chilled out Wade gets. At this point he expects Laura or Gabby to say something back so when one of them run off crying without a remark it really throws him back into that "What the fuck did you do!? You have 60 seconds to explain- Go." Mode.

He knows Ellie is a little more sensitive because of her truamas kids making fun of her for not being a mutant at a mutant school, but thats what chuck wanted. He wanted humans AND mutants to succeed in his school. Though sometimes Wades voices convince him that Logan loves Ellie less because shes not his "real daughter" and so they convience wade that logan is mean to her on purpose (this is a very VERY big effect on mental health type of HC)

With their other children, depending on how young, he can't help but have dreams of Logan killing them before their powers even come through or abandon them. Hes terrified of logan just deciding one day that he doesn't want to be their father anymore and just... dipping.

Traumatized🤝Not ideal parents 🤝 Traumatized

I can imagine something happening at the school and the MOMENT Logan hears about something happening instead of going to the kid he instantly has to track down his husband like Eliza Hamilton.

"I gotta go I gotta find Wade."

"Let him know we're on his side?"

"No- He'll consider this a personal slander, I gotta stop a homicide."

"OH-"

Thinking about how protective of his kids Wade would be. Like he does not give a fuck. Logan could be a little bit too harsh and make their child cry, and Wade would unload his gun plus an entire SECOND clip into his gut and then put his foot on his throat, lean in, and be like:

"Don't you EVER talk to my fucking kids like that ever again if you want to stay in this house. You're here because I let you be. I don't need you* I can just as easily replace you** and I sure as hell won't let you treat our children like how we were raised. Do I make myself clear?" And if Logan doesn't agree within a certian amount of time, Wade would just shoot him in the head and walk away.

"....Papa?"

"Yes sweetheart?"

"...what happened to daddy?"

"Daddys taking a nap honey. He'll be alright in a couple minutes don't worry baby. Hey are you okay? You know daddy doesn't mean the things he says, right?"

The child nods, wiping tears from their eyes as Wade hugs them and kisses their head. "Daddy wasn't hugged as a kid, that's all. Hey! We should order pizza! Would you like that?"

And they nod softely but are still concerned with the fact that they saw their dad (who by now is sitting up) bleeding out on the floor two seconds ago.

"Oooh, Heeeyyy. Well, mornin' sleepy head! How was your nap. I think you had something to say to you. Don't you, Wolvie?" 😃

"I... uhm... Sorry kiddo.. I- i didnt mean to yell at you like that.."

"Awww! Great! Now we can go to Vinnies as one big happy family! Yaaayy!" 😊

The moral of this story is- Wade Wilson don't play when it comes to his kids.

*lies.

**another lie.

[edgeray]

*vibrates*

So many wips… 👀

Ok so. IDK. I have. So many “want to sees”. So I’m just gonna list them 🤷‍♀️

Ghost Clervie AU. I’m imagining Clervie watching as Peruere- sorry, *Arlecchino* develops her “cold, strict, and unfeeling Father persona”. But she quickly reverts back to Peruere in the presence of Clervie when Arle figures out she isn’t hallucinating and this isn’t some scheme of someone trying to throw her off balance.

(I’m actually just realizing the parallels of Furina making her Archon persona and Peruere with her Father persona 🤔 Both masks are there in order to better protect the people that rely on them (Fontaine’s citizens and the Hearths Children respectively)). Anyways.

Isekai-ed Arlecchino. I’m just wondering at how that would work and how serious you would make the writing take itself. Like would it be crack, crack that takes itself serious, or serious? (You don’t need to answer that. I was just pondering)

Modern Cat or Bunny Shifter Arle. Arle in her animal form has a nearly 100% coat with the exception of one ear that’s black. It’s cute. Also, I see her as a bunny with floppy ears that are so long that she trips over them XD I’m giggling at the thought she might even be one of those massive bunny breeds too. This makes me wonder if the House exists and whether or not the rest are also shapeshifters. Like a haven for shapeshifters, if you will.

Pirate Arle. You know (you don’t, but I’m telling you 😅) I’m a sucker for enemies(who actually aren’t all that bad) taking in and caring for an abandoned enemy.

Historical Goddess Arle. I think the fact that Reader prays for a painless death rather than no death at all could be intriguing to Arle who probably regularly gets prayers from people not wanting to die?

Spiderwoman Arle. It’s not a want, it’s a need. I’m also a sucker for secret identity relationships. 

Arlecchino w/ Cursed Bio Child.

Alien Arle and Human Reader. Arle and Clervie internally seething at getting another runaway test subject (not at the human, at the fact they were experimented on). That(the facility) would need to be taken care of… (badass ArlexClervie couple who are leaders of an organization who take down illegal trafficking rings, experiment facilities, etc? 👀) Once the newcomer gets adjusted to their new home, of course.

Arlecchino x Alive/Knave Clervie.

Sorry if any of that/the extra commentary seems like I’m trying to press for any of this. Yeah, these are requests. If that’s ok 🙂

👉👈 Hopefully it isn’t overwhelming.

The Other End of the Blade

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi anon, sorry for being late with this anon! I really love your commentary on all of your (mine?) ideas so don’t worry about it! I’ll put more of a response at the end of this.  This one is going to be pirate AU because I too crave some enemies to lovers right now. One piece is the only basis I have for pirates so apologies if it's not alike to other pirate media.    Those of you wondering where this list of ideas come from, it’s from my ideas/wip post, where I store all of the silly little ideas for fanfics. Feel free to request from anything on that list.

Content warnings / info - enemies to lovers, semi-graphic violence, heavily one piece inspired, got WAY too invested into this whoops, 4.0k words

Before you could read books, you could read wanted posters. Before you could spell out your name, you could write down ‘pirate’ and ‘wanted dead or alive.’ Before you could write, you throw a mean punch. Before you knew how to play, you knew how to fight. And before you knew how to count your fingers, you could tie knots. Before you knew what a Marine was, you already were one. And before you knew what ‘love’ means, you knew what hate was and who to hate: pirates. Hatred towards them coursed alongside your blood through your veins. 

Pirates are the scum of the seas, raiders from the depths of the oceans that have come to pillage towns and wreak havoc over the prospering empires. They’re sick people who only know how to steal and how to kill. They rob lives without an ounce of hesitance, ignorant to the misery and suffering they force upon people because of their actions. The world would be better off without them. That way, all people can live in peace without worry from murderers and pillagers like them. Pirates are everything you should hate and you swear that you're going to make it so not one person has to be afraid of their shores–they'll never have to look at the horizon wondering if they see pirate ships in the distance cruising towards them. 

If there is one thing that your family has instilled into you, it would be that a world free of suffering is a world free of pirates. Like every other family member before you, you've been set on the path of greatness that is to eradicate every one of those vermin since birth. The only aspiration you could have is rising the ranks of the Marines. Generations of your family served in the Marine, holding the highest positions. Being anything short of one of the admiral positions, (the lowest of which ranking fourth highest in authority) is a disgrace, a stain on your one of the most prominent Marine families. 

Rising towards the ranks was no difficulty for you. It's only about two years since you've joined the Marines, and you've already risen to a commander position. For reference, even the best of soldiers take four to five years to be promoted to that level. And you know you're about to be promoted–you just need one big case. Just capture one famous pirate, and you know that the Captain rank is yours. One more step closer to cementing your place among the greats of your family. 

– 

Water pelts across your face and the strong sea breeze whips around you. Over your own thumping heart, you can hear the roaring of raging waves paired with the wild flapping of the sails and the creaking of wood. Thudding footsteps rushes all around you, and the clouded sky flashes, thundering. 

“Lower the sails!” You scream at the men as they wrestle with the ropes. Seeing one of the men fumble, you grumble under your breath and shove him away to take over. 

“Get a bucket, and keep getting rid of the water. We need as little water to get into the hull as possible,” you command him, and that's enough to make him useful. 

“Pirate ship spotted!” One of the crew members states and you groan in frustration. A pirate ship at this time? You're only just barely ensuring the vessel does not capsize! Not only is the Marine ship struggling, but no doubt the pirate ship would be too. You release the ropes, seeking out the captain. 

“Captain!” You yell as you head towards him. The cranky man shoots you a snooty glare before turning to a Marine soldier besides him. 

“Hurry up! What flag is it?! Huh? Huh?! Give me a damn answer before I throw you overboard!” Your captain gruffly exclaims at the poor Marine who was holding a spyglass, pointing it towards the oncoming ship. You cringe at the Captain's voice, silently giving sentiments to the other Marine. 

“It's a… um… it.. um…” The Marine stutters, unsure of what to make of the flag. You grind your teeth before wrenching it out of his hands and examining the flag yourself with squinted eyes. In between  heavy rain and dark surroundings, you can just barely recognize the flag: a hand grasping a candle. 

Damn it! At this time?! 

“It's the Hearth pirates!” You announce, tossing the scope to your Captain to see. 

“The Hearth? You mean one of the Harbinger crews?!” The old man grunts before seeing for himself. His facial features morph into one of disbelief before hardening. 

“I want every cannon manned now! Get your weapons ready and drawn! All hands on deck!” The Captain demands. The confusion and disbelief was practically palpable among the Marines, and felt through their second of hesitation before the soldiers’ replied with a ‘yes Captain.’

Is he crazy? What the hell is wrong with him? As much as you would love to capture the notorious Hearth pirates, you knew now was nothing but an imprudent time. Even if the Hearth was among the less deadly of the Harbinger crews, that did not make them any less powerful. You have heard from other Marines’ hushed whispers that it takes at least a large fleet (5 Marine ships) to take down one entire Harbinger ship, and even that was theoretical. The Fatui pirates as a whole are damn near unstoppable, but the Harbingers themselves are monsters ripped from hell. As much as you hate to admit, you’re not strong enough to defeat a Harbinger, and you have similar doubts for your Captain. Where does he get this pomposity from?

The other men are struggling enough to keep this piece of wood afloat, and now they have to worry about battling pirates? You doubt even the Hearth is eager for a fight. Fighting in this storm would only lead to early graves for both sides. Winning against and capturing the Hearth pirates is unfavorable, but surviving past this storm is indisputable. 

“Wait, Captain!” You call out to him. An annoyed click of his tongue comes from him, as if you were the bother, and it only makes you clench your hands into fists. He turns his back towards you, irritation written all over his expression. 

“What are you standing around for? Get ready already!” He demands with a scrunched face. 

“We can't engage in battle with them yet! We don’t have enough men, and we're already struggling with the storm!” You protest. “We're in no condition to try and fight them!”

Silence. Around you, you hear whispers from the other crewmates, sounds of agreement coming from them. Evidently, this increases the captain's indignation. 

“Quiet!” He screams. “If we're struggling, just think about how they could be faring! They don't have nearly enough resources as us marines do to survive! This is our chance to capture one of the Harbinger crews!

“After all,” he pauses to give you a pointed, haughty look. “We have one of the members of the greatest family? We won't lose with you on our side, right? We're in your hands.”

You bristle, your nails digging into your palm as your lips twitch into a deeper frown. To think he would use your family name against you. What is he even trying to do? You're too stunned to respond and he brushes past you. 

You're absolutely powerless to do anything, and so are the other soldiers on this ship. No one here outranks the Captain. No matter how correct you may be, you would be punished for disobeying a superior's order. If only you could have been promoted earlier, then you wouldn't have to listen to this fool. Had it been you, you would have this ship steered towards the closest Marine base and report what direction the Hearth pirates are going. But you can't do that. You nod pathetically, and the rest of the men disperse. 

You can only watch as the smaller ship approaches closer and closer. As soon as Hearth pirates enter within the firing range, chaos ensues with your Captain's bellowed “FIRE!” 

A cacophony of screams and cannon fire sound through the air, deafening you, and the overpowering smell of gunpowder and brine swarm your nostrils. Like all naval battles, it’s always a blur–just a flash of colors and movements. At some point, the pirate ship approached close enough for them to board onto the Marine ship. You are not aware of this until you find yourself face to face with one of the Hearth pirates. By then, all rationale has been thrown out in favor of instinct–the most precise, miniscule reaction is what keeps you alive the most when it comes to battling pirates. Your surroundings fade from your awareness, your only attention on the figure before you.

She’s a young pirate, that you can tell, but her skills are no less admirable. She has an ever passive, unreadable face that makes predicting her movements hard to discern and even harder to catch off guard. You narrowly dodge another slash of her saber, and your cutlass swishes through the air, only shallowly cutting her sleeve. Despite this, she is far from deterred, and you have to parry another swing. The steel of the blades screeches as your blades clash against each other. Now at a temporary standstill, the both of you exchange eye contact for a brief moment. Lilac eyes, brimming with determination, skirts away from yours. She pulls away only to lunge again, a thrust of her blade heading towards you abdomen but you dodge, side-stepping it. The blade skims just past you, embedding into the wood of one of the masts. Realizing the given opportunity, you give a swift kick to the pirate’s stomach, disconnecting her hand from the handle of her sword. She tumbles onto the ground with a grunt, and you use no time to close the distance. 

Just as you are about to deliver another blow, a loud gunshot sounds through, making you flinch. A sharp pain erupts from your left shoulder and you stumble back from the young pirate. You cock your head, peering behind you. This action allows you to narrowly miss two oncoming daggers, though your cheek and neck get nicked. Spinning on your heel, you face the dagger wielding pirate fully. He’s a young boy, with a top hat and matching eyes of the saber user. Siblings, perhaps? The fierceness in his eyes confirms your suspicions. 

You charge at the boy, but before reaching him, a large wave crashes into the boat, water spilling overboard and throwing you off balance. The sudden impact makes you lose your balance, and you’re hurtled towards the railings of the ship, your back slamming into it. An audible crack emits from the collision and your spine screams out in agony. Lifting yourself into a crawling position, you glance up at the havoc over the deck. 

A bit close to you is your captain, fighting against a white-haired woman. Given the striking polearm she wields, that must be the Knave, one of the eleven Harbingers of the Fatui pirates. Her movements are graceful, every thrust and slash calculated and precise. In contrast, your captain’s movements are botched, desperate. Every output of effort from him is just for another instance of him scraping by with his life. Each parry with his saber leaves his arms trembling. He is a bumbling mess compared to the Knave. Easily, you can tell it’s a losing battle for your captain. He’s outclassed. 

You’re about to rise when a flicker of bright light catches your gaze. Your eyes widen as you turn your head to spot a bright orange mass covering a part of the deck, and it only grows the longer you gaze at it. The flames stalk towards you with a terrifying space. Despite your body’s protest, you beckon your body to stand. When you have both feet on the wooden planks, you head towards your captain to assist him in his battle. Abruptly, the Marine ship shakes, another current assaulting its side. Swept off your feet, your body is flung, your lower abdomen hitting the top of the railings while you roll off of the ship. It’s only by sheer luck that your hand catches the base of the railing, holding onto it with all the strength you could muster in your left arm. The rest of your body hangs over the ever-swallowing sea. 

Your grasp is slipping because of the rain. You grunt as you try to lift yourself with just one arm. Opening your mouth, you clench your teeth onto the spine of your cutlass, freeing up your right arm to grip onto the base of another fence. With much effort, you’re able to heave your head up so that your eyesight is just over the floor. You can spot the familiar boots of the captain. Every muscle in your arm is straining, burning painfully. Holding on for much longer is impossible.

The cutlass has to go. You let the weapon fall from your mouth, and it plunges into the waters below. 

“Captain! Captain!” The guttural outcry comes from your lips. There’s the groaning of wood breaking. A large shadow looms over you, and you lift your gaze. The mast above tilts down, forewarning its collapse on top of you. 

“CAPTAIN!” You scream out, no longer having the strength to lift your head above the deck. You dangle helplessly, your grip slacking with each second. 

You hear thumping footsteps towards you, and you have never been more grateful to see the unsightliness of your captain’s face peering over the railings. 

For a moment, he does nothing, viewing your vulnerable state. His lips twitch, a small smile stretches over his face. He turns away briefly, glancing in both the right and left direction, before focusing on you again. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that they know you fought honorably,” he says, venom in his voice. “So go ahead and let go.”

Your blood freezes, and his face disappears. Your arms can no longer continue and you let up. 

You fall, plunging into the icy cold waters. The iciness does not just seep into your blood, but your muscles and tendons too, making your body heavy. Air is stolen away from you and you flail and kick to the surface for air. Everything hurts. As you sputter for oxygen, coughing out the saltwater, your vision catches the glimpse of a long brown mass toppling down onto you. It’s the last thing you see when something hits the back of your head, and everything fades into an inky abyss. 

—

Everything hurts. It's the first thing that comes to you when you are able to grasp even a bit of consciousness. You feel it in your limbs, your back, your abdomen, essentially anything above your waist has a stabbing sensation in it. A groan, followed by a deep suction of air, emerges from you, and you lift your head up. Your eyes flutter open, bright light stabbing into your eyes. You let out a pained groan, rolling your neck to ease its discomfort but find it unhelpful. 

Your eyes adjust to the orange glow of your surroundings. You blink several times to relieve the blurriness in your vision, able to see more clearly. Given the rocking motion and the familiar sound of waves crashing, you would reckon you're on a ship. Looking down at yourself, you're seated on a chair. You attempt to sit up, only to find yourself unable to. Rope digs into the skin of your bound wrists, and you let out a string of expletives in a single defeated sigh. 

“Did you learn that tongue from the Marines?” A cutthroat voice resounds through the room. 

You dip your head, turning towards the figure. A tall woman leans against the wall in the corner, a good bit of distance away. White and black strands, charcoal hands, crimson crossed-pupils, and the epitome of beauty and refinement that marks the appearance of the Knave. Strange to find that among pirates, of all brutish people. Your hazy mind clears in an instant, and you sit up straighter. The pirate captain's presence brings about your most recent memories onto the forefront of your mind in short bursts. With a forceful swallow, you recognize that you have been captured by the Hearth pirates. If you're alive rather than dead, that means they have some use for you. Whatever it is, you need to escape from this. You can only do that when you fish for enough information. 

Taking in your surroundings, you'd have to guess you're in some storage room. Stacked barrels make up the majority of the room. Perhaps if you're able to access the contents of the barrels, you can use them to escape. If not, you could easily ruin their supplies, including food and water. 

“I just thought communicating would be easier in your language,” you snark back, observing the Harbinger's reaction. Expectedly, she remains inexpressive, revealing nothing. She leans away from the wall, stalking towards you. Heels click against the floorboards. Only pirates would have the audacity to be wearing such compromising shoes out on the sea. 

She stands before you, unmoving, her piercing gaze smiliarly fixated on your form. When nothing comes from her lips, you make conversation first.

“Admiring me?” 

This earns a humorless chuckle. “There's nothing to admire.” 

Ow. 

A frown comes across your face. Acting coy does not work on pirates like the Knave. The Knave seems like someone who only responds to directness. No use in stalling. 

“What happened to my crew?”

“They were alive when we left them.” 

“And are they still alive?”

“Presumably.” 

You grit your teeth, lunging at her in anger. Your bounds don't allow for much movement, and it only makes your chair screech across the floor boards towards the pirate. “You left them in the middle of the storm with a ruined ship! You killed them!” 

“You were the fools that decided to attack us.”

“You would have attacked us first! You scum aren't above anything! How can I even trust your word? How do I not know you're not lying to my face?! How do I know you haven't slaughtered them all?!” You scream, thrashing against the ropes wildly.  

“I doubt any persuasion could relieve your distrust. I see that any sort of conversation with you will be futile,” the pirate remarks. She spins on her heel, heading towards the door. You're almost tempted to let her if it means the chance of never seeing her face again, until another thought crosses your mind. 

Why did she want some sort of conversation with you?

“Wait.”

The Knave stops in her tracks. “Are you choosing to be civil for once?” 

You scrunch your nose. “Never mind. I can't bear seeing your face again.” 

An audible huff comes from the pirate before she does face back towards. 

“Why did you… why did you keep me alive? Why did you spare me? Why did you…” You pause, recalling back to your last memories. You were knocked unconscious by falling debris, that you were sure of. You should have drowned by all accounts. You doubt your crewmates have saved you–you hate to admit it, but you would have sunk to the seabed before one of them had noticed. Your crewmates would have been too focused on the pirates to have. If it wasn't any one from your party, then that only leaves the opposing party. However, there is no logical reason for them to. You'd sooner accept divine intervention rather than pirates having rescued you. 

The voice in your head, the voice that has been fostered since your childhood, tells you that it is neither of those two, just a sick sense of karma. Pirates aren't capable of any good doing. If they've kept you alive, it's because they intend to hurt you even more. They're inhuman monsters who only know how to steal and steal, until nothing of you is left. Wretched people that shouldn't even have the luxury of being labeled as ‘humans.’ 

“Why am I here?” You finally settle on those words. 

Silence stretches for a single moment before she begins. “You encountered two of my children, yes?” 

You raise your eyebrows at the mention of ‘children.’ You're aware that some captains likened themselves to a parental figure of their crew–it seems like the Knave is one of those cases. You think back to the young ash blond pirates you briefly fought. 

“The swordswoman and the dagger thrower,” you reply.

“Correct. I found Lyney as a child, when I was wandering the alleys of a shoretown. He bumped into me because he was in a hurry to save his sister from being sold to a high ranking Marine.”

Shock envelopes your face as you process those words. A Marine? Someone whose duty is to protect citizens? A high ranking Marine? Someone whose performance and power is praiseworthy and yet they would do something like that? The thought sickens you. That kind of behavior… that can only pertain to a pirate right? It is not possible for a Marine to act that way. Other Marine officials would have never allowed it. She must be feeding falsehoods to trick you, to get you to betray your family and duty. There's no way this would happen. 

Despite your inner turmoil, Arlecchino continues. “When I took them in, fed them and gave them somewhere to sleep, it took several months for Lyney to sleep in his own quarters. He couldn't be torn away from his sister's quarters. Any chore assigned to him, Lynette had to be beside him. You would have to possess a superhuman strength to separate him from her.”

You could imagine why. Your stomach churns uncomfortably, hating the fact that with every word, her story seems more and more plausible. Why were you even considering this fabricated story? Why were you being swayed by a pirate's tongue?

“Why are you telling me this? You didn't take me to tell your kids’ sob story,” you remark. 

“Every single person on this ship has been dealt an unfortunate hand by the Marines. My children,” she speaks with a hint of indignation, her voice chillingly sincere, “have suffered and wept because of a Marine. Not one of them has ever had a good history with a Marine.” 

She gives you a pointed look, one that makes your blood boil. You hate it, you want to gauge her eyes out because you can see the glint of sympathy in them. “I see now that it's not just people having been harmed by the Marines. But their own people too.” 

“I am not some pitiful stray you found on the street!” You scream, having heard enough of this. “I have not been wronged by-” 

“Your captain abandoned you.” That is all it takes to silence you, and your outburst dies the instant it comes. Any protests on your lips is pummeled away by the heaviness in your chest that forms whenever you think back to that moment. Arms aching, helpless and dangling, and the man you relied upon to lead you and guide you, turns away. He left you, simple as that, to die. Why? You couldn't even fathom a reason. How could a captain do that? After all your service, after all you've done for him, he leaves you.

“You would have died because of a self-serving captain.” 

And you still have the audacity to try and defend him. The Marines are all you know. He was just one man. That did not mean all the Marines were like that. “He was just one man.”

“One man is all it takes. One man is one too many. And if that were true, no one else would be on my ship. I do not believe that all Marines are as revolting as him. Quite the opposite. But there is enough and that's the problem. 

“You may find it hard to believe, but we want to welcome you. If you choose to so stubbornly reject our hospitality and company, we will drop you off at the nearest island so you may return to your duty. But here, we at least know of loyalty and family, I assure you that.” 

The Knave approaches you. You hear the unsheathing of a blade and you feel your wrists relieved from their bounds. You gape at her. 

“Welcome to the House of the Hearth.” 

More A/N: I know this was really long, and not at all romantic, but I got way too invested into the plot of it all to actually focus on the romance. Please someone request a part two because I haven't enjoyed writing a piece this much in a while (i know my inbox is closed for requests but I will make this an exception. This was such a fun piece that really had me invested the entire time while writing. I would love to see Arlecchino's and Reader's relationship develop more. I hope you guys enjoyed this because it's now the longest request I've ever written.

I'm not done yapping, unfortunately. To address anon's commentary. First of all, never be sorry for the commentary. I love yapping, as you may be able to tell. I love hearing your guys' ideas and I think they're all so cool!! (I'm also lonely :v pls talk to me anons).

I love, love, love Arlecchino's character, and I so wish to see it more explored in x Reader fics (I have something like this in the works ehehe) and I totally see the comparison between Furina and Clervie (even though I don't ship Arlefuri).

I've already written Goddess! Arlecchino x Reader! I've linked it in case you haven't seen it before. I'm also working on an Alien! Arlecchino x Human! Reader, so not quite like the Alien AU! Arlevie, but I thought it's something you might be interested. I think that Bunny! Arle would be more like her plush in the Arlecchino animation, but seeing her with floppy ears is such a cute image. With the Isekai AU, I guess it really depends on my mood. (I've also put a different concept for an Arlecchino Isekai-ed AU in the same post), but likely the one mentioned in your asks will have more crack.

I really want to think you for your conideration of my ideas!! It means a lot to me that people actually see them and like can envision it and feel the raw potential for that story like I do. I know it took super long for me to get to this request and it might not even be how you wanted but I hope you like it. <333

Note to future requests: if you guys give me a list of ideas you want me to do (bc you're as indecisive as I am), I can pick one to write :33)

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

10 - System Failure, Calling Mission Control

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: Major Character Death, description of some funeral proceedings, heavy alcohol consumption, and a nice little surprise at the end to make up for it all.

A/N: It was inevitable.

Tags: @mrsevans90

Playlist

Ice had died at some point during the night. Peacefully, in his sleep, next to his loving wife. Sarah realized almost immediately, waking up just minutes after her husband took his last breath. She got Sam up first and then Mark and Alexandra. They stood around the bed for a few moments, each saying their goodbyes as they felt necessary. Sarah called the funeral home and they came and took his body early. Sarah was going to try to get the funeral to be held later that day, after every necessary person was notified.  Sarah wanted it done and over with, knowing Ice wanted something quick. He'd set his family up well for the rest of their lives. He made sure they were taken care of. Once the funeral director left their home, Sam texted Jake.

Sam: Jake

Jake: mornin beautiful...was gonna shoot you a text but figured you were sleeping and I was running late, missed our walk this morning 

Sam: can you come to my house?

Jake: was just getting into flight suit, is everything okay?

Sam: no...please I need you now

Jake: fuck. Omw

Without a thought, Jake shed his flight suit, which had been half on, putting his jeans back on. He forgot his belt and Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob all yelled after him as he darted out the door. He even left his locker open. 

“The fuck?” Rooster asked, and everyone glanced around confused before going back to their business. 

Jake sped to Sam's house. He passed a black hearse, flanked by two military escorts on the way and his stomach dropped. When he pulled in the driveway it was silent, and he could only hear the gentle rustle of the morning breeze through the palm trees out front. The air felt empty, and too cool for the end of the summer. He recognized Admiral Beau Simpson standing with Sarah. The color drained from Jake's face as he took a deep and shaky breath, heading up the walkway. Sarah thanked Jake for coming and he smiled and nodded at her. Beau saluted him and Jake did so back as he continued to where he was most needed. 

Sam met him at the door and she nearly collapsed into his arm, sobs wracking her body. He guided her into the house and onto the couch. He held her tight and let her cry for as long as she needed to. Jake could hear someone coming up the walkway and into the house. He glanced around and noticed Sam’s brother and sister were nowhere to be found, no doubt off somewhere quiet trying to process what had happened to their father in their own ways. Sarah had come back into the house and Beau had followed, which Jake then realized that he had arrived just after Beau and he was clearly trying to help Sarah get some things in order.

“How quickly do you want this to happen?” Beau asked, eyes glassing over to Jake. He was still holding Sam tight, his fingers threaded through her hair and the other hand rubbing circles on her back. When she was able to stop crying, she laid silently in Jake's arms. He had shed tears but none for her to see. He was trying his hardest to be strong for her. 

“I just want everything over with. Tom wanted it all done quick too. Whatever you can make happen today, I’d be grateful for.” Sarah said and Jake felt Sam sigh deeply. He wasn’t sure if she could hear her mother, but if she could, it probably hurt that her mother seemed unfazed on the outside, but Jake was sure she was in agony on the inside. She was trying to be strong for her children just like Jake was being for his girlfriend. 

“I’ll do my best. He was our Commander. We’re all going to miss him deeply, Sarah. And you let me know if there’s anything else you need. We’re here for you whatever you and your family needs. You’re our family too.” Beau explained and Jake watched as Beau rubbed his hands up and down her arms comfortingly. He kissed her on the cheek and she pulled him into a tight embrace before they said their goodbyes. 

Not too long after. Maverick and the rest of the pilots were informed and they all headed home to get their dress uniforms. Jake had stopped quickly at his place and then went back to Sam's immediately. He elected to drive her and Maverick came and picked Sarah, Mark and Alex up. It wasn't until the funeral that Jake’s co-pilots saw him. 

Jake looked handsome in dress blues and on his arm was Sam. What a way for the rest of them to find out. Nat had known and expressed her disgust initially, but she was happy for Sam regardless. Bob knew, and so did Coyote. Everyone else had their suspicions but it was confirmed for them here and now. 

With Iceman’s family gathered, and Jake by his daughter's side, his friends and co-pilots couldn't believe it. They saw then, the side of Jake that he vowed he'd never let them see. They saw tears stinging his eyes as he glanced down at his girlfriend. At Iceman's daughter. They saw affection and a comforting demeanor as Sam held onto him tight, as if Jake was the only thing that could keep her tethered to the spot, as the priest said his last words about Ice. About him being a loving and devoted husband and father. About him leaving behind a legacy. And when Sam broke down again, Jake was right there to catch her, holding her steady in his arms. His co-pilots were astounded by the amount of care and compassion that Hangman showed. That Jake showed. 

Jake's lips touched her forehead and the top of her hair. One of his hands was cupped around the back of her neck, the other around her waist, holding her as her body shook. His green eyes studied the line of his fellow aviators, as Maverick punched wings into Ice’s casket. As they fired the rifles, Jake whispered something to Sam, and only Rooster was able to hear what he said, being the closest in proximity to them. 

“I've got you. It'll be okay. Not now...but it'll be okay soon.” Jake’s voice was low and soft, comforting and reassuring in the same breath as the jets flew overhead. Rooster had never seen Hangman be so caring. And now he knew there was something more going on with them. He knew it was way more than a fling for Jake. Hangman actually had feelings. Rooster stood in stunned silence next to them.

As the funeral proceedings ended, many people came up and expressed their condolences to Sarah and Ice's children. Maverick hugged her and then when he hugged Sam, he whispered something to her.

“Ice told me to look after you too. I promise I'll do my best.” He said to Sam and then he shook Jake's hand and said, “I know you'll continue to make Ice proud.”

Jake nodded and he glanced down at Sam with a small smile. As everyone began to dissipate, Nat headed over to Sam. She gave her a huge hug.

“I'm so sorry, Sam. He's not in pain anymore.” She said softly and that made Sam's tears well up again and she swallowed hard as her and Nat embraced, tighter than the last. Jake stood with his hands in his pockets, waiting for Sam to come back to his arms. Bradley, Bob, Javy, and Reuben made their way over, saying sorry to Sarah first and then Sam. 

“So...Hangman, huh?” Bradley said, a little disapproving, as he gave Sam a hug. She nodded and shot a small smile toward Jake, who was talking with Javy. Nat still had an arm around Sam's shoulders.

“I couldn't believe it either but...he's actually nice when you get to know him. Sam is doing God's work out here, taming Hangman's ego.” Nat said, smiling at Sam. She wasn't just saying it because of the situation either. Jake had a lot to make up for with some of his fellow pilots, but when Sam had asked Nat to come to dinner with them the other night, she saw what Sam liked about him so much. Nat saw the side of Jake that he didn't show to anyone because he thought they'd think he was weak. He'd thought they would think he was soft. So that side of Jake, the real Jake down to his core, was reserved only for very special people and very special occasions. And Sam was very special to him.

“Well, Sammy, I don’t like it, but I’ll be respectful, because I can see how much he means to you. And I can tell he will take really good care of you.” Bradley maintained, glancing at Hangman, at Jake, then his eyes focused back on Sam, as Jake slid in beside her again.

The ring was still in his pocket. He'd been carrying it around for a few days, trying to figure out when the best time was to propose. He just felt horrible that he was going to ask her to marry him at such a low point in her life. She’d just lost her father. Why did he think this was a good time?

Because he said he would take away all her pain, and asking her to be his forever seemed like the most logical way to do that right now. Maybe his reasoning was shit, but nonetheless, he knew he needed to do this sooner rather than later. He wasn’t afraid of losing her but he was afraid that she might decide to run away to somewhere that he couldn’t go. And with the mission only a week away, he wanted to make sure that when he came back, which was his main goal, to come back, that he had her here and that she was promised to him, and only him.

Everyone was going out for drinks that night at the Hard Deck to celebrate Iceman’s life and legacy. Jake felt like if he could get Sam away from everyone, onto the beach, then perhaps they could have a quiet moment and he could ask. That would even have to be timed right though, as he knew Sam was probably hoping, or even planning to get good and drunk tonight. 

🛩🛩🛩

Maverick had everyone's attention at the Hard Deck, to make a toast in honor of Iceman. He'd gotten Sarah to come out for a round. Everyone was there. All of Jake’s detachment, even Cyclone and Warlock were comfortably drinking and chatting with everyone. People had spilled out onto the sidewalk, the parking lot, and the patio. 

Jake paid for a round for his co-pilots, Javy paid for a round, Maverick, and Bradley too. The more drunk Bradley got, the looser his lips became and Nat tried to keep him away from Sam, but she had been trying to flirt with Bob too. She really liked Bob. Nat and Sam were a bit  like in that they usually went for asshole guys. Bob had shown Nat that he was safe, and respectful, and she kind of wanted a change of pace. She knew she shouldn’t fall for her WSO, but she really couldn’t help it. Bob was too tempting. 

While she and Bob were discussing some inside joke between them, as a pilot and her WSO should have, she’d let Bradley out of her sights and he’d made his way over to Sam and leaned against the wall next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders and while Sam was getting drunk, she wasn’t as sloshed as Bradley.

“Hey, sweets, I wish you’d given me even half the shot you’re giving old Jakey. Think about that night we had all the fuckin’ time. I tell everyone that you were the best piece of ass I ever had.” He pointed at Jake, who couldn’t hear what Bradley said over the din of the bar, but he bristled seeing Bradley’s arm around his girl. Sam shrugged his arm off her shoulders and patted him on the chest.

“Oh Roo, this is exactly why I never gave you a second chance. You have no respect for me and it gets even worse when you’re drunk.” Sam motioned between them and she headed over to Jake.

“Everything okay there?” He whisper-yelled in her ear and she nodded.

“He’s just jealous, Jake. Don’t need that shit right now.” She affirmed and Jake downed the rest of his beer and put it down on the edge of the pool table. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, shooting an annoyed look at Bradley, who scoffed and headed the opposite way.

Jake knew Sam was feeling pretty good after her fourth round so he decided to take her beer, and gave it to Nat to hold onto. “Hey, can we go somewhere quieter, babygirl? I wanna talk to ya about something.” He insisted, grinning wide, as his hand met the back of her neck. She curled her fingers in his dress shirt which had been untucked for some time now and allowed him to coax her out onto the patio, unsteady on her feet and giggly. She pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips and he smirked, as he was feeling his liquor a bit too. Javy was out there, making out with some girl he'd just met. Jake nodded at him and Javy just grinned. Jake led Sam down onto the sand and she immediately took her shoes off and threw them in different directions. Jake would find them later, when he was a little more sober and a little less horny.

“Jake Seresin! I think I love you!” She yelled to the night sky and twirled, falling into him. He laughed and caught her easily and kissed her. And there it was, the words he had been looking for. The words he’d wanted her to say so fucking bad, but she hadn’t yet. He knew even though she was a bit more than buzzed, she meant it. His smile grew wider as his grasp tightened around her. He didn’t want to let go, but he had to stop stalling.

“Hey, can you just stand there for a second? I wanna look at cha, beautiful girl.” He said, backing away a couple steps, putting his hands up like he was trying to get the perfect camera frame. She laughed and swished the skirt of her dress back and forth while looking expectantly at Jake. He reached in his pocket and pulled the box out. He glanced over at the patio, which they were not far from and saw that several other of their friends had joined Javy and his girl and were leaning over the railing. Nat, Bob, and Rueben were all up there looking out over the ocean with beers in their hands. If there was ever a better time...

“Samantha Kazansky!” He yelled, hands in the air, getting her full attention. She was wobbly but coherent enough that she knew he was about to ask something serious. She had butterflies in her stomach as he got down on one knee and opened the small box in his hand. “I know the timing is the fuckin' worst, but I can't go another day without being with you. Will you marry me?” 

Sam jumped up and down and pulled Jake from his knee. He kept a tight grip on the ring and stopped her for a moment, to put the ring on her finger. She gazed down at it, then at him. “Wow Jake, you got me a fucking planet. You must love me or something.” She hooted and jumped into his arms and their lips crashed together. He twirled her around and they heard cheers from the patio. He couldn’t help the goofy smile across his lips as he held her close, his mouth meeting her neck.

“Hey guys! I fucking love Jake Seresin! And I'm gonna marry him!” Sam yelled and their friends all laughed. So did Jake. He had his answer even though she never actually said ‘yes’ to him. He loved her too and he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her.

[dreaminrainbows]

Happy 28th appreciation day loves! Hope y'all are taking care of yourselves, that this winter treats you well and you have amazing holidays! Here are all the amazing fics that got me through this month! Don't shy away from leaving comments and kudos!!

cut your teeth on my heart by turnyourankle/@turnyourankle | [94.6k]

Louis has worked as a security officer for years, but he's handed his first opportunity to be team lead. The assignment is nothing like what he expected. Harry has spent years trying to distance himself from the pressure of the Twist name and legacy. But it's going to be hard to avoid when his mum hires him a bodyguard.

Porcupine by sweetkalachuchi/@neverforpickles | [82.2k]

Louis, a broke omega librarian, finds his quiet life in Vienna turned upside down when he meets a charming four-year-old boy named Venus, who insists that Louis is his "Mama." When Venus's father, Harry—a powerful and dangerous mafia leader—offers Louis a lucrative job as the boy's full-time nanny, Louis steps into a world where love and danger are deeply intertwined. As Louis grows closer to Harry and Venus, he discovers the perilous secrets of Harry's underworld life. Their unexpected connection sparks a passionate romance, but with Harry's enemies closing in, Louis must navigate a treacherous path where his heart and life are at risk. This is a thrilling tale of love, danger, and the irresistible pull of two souls drawn together against all odds.

Don't Want Shelter by kingsofeverything/@kingsofeverything | [76.6k]

Louis and Harry have known each other all their lives. Friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. Except for that one time ten years ago… When Hurricane Nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own. During the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other.

if we were butterflies by blueskiesrry/ @blueskiesrry | [52.6k]

“Is this how I used to look at you?” His hand hovers just over the collarbone of the sculpture, like he’s caught between wanting to touch and wanting to pull away, wanting to leave and wanting to stay. Eyes stuck on Harry, unaware of anything else in the room, Louis whispers, “Something like that,” wondering now if he ever quite did it justice. or: after recruiting harry to model for his sculptures and coming to know all his edges, louis loses him to a life more prosperous than he can provide. he finds harry again four years later.

Tied to Fate  by littlelouishiccups/ @littlelouishiccups | [52.3k]

After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson, a ghost who once lived in the castle and has haunted it for over five hundred years. He’s even more unprepared to fall in love with him.

Something in the way by momentofclarity/@gaycousinlarry | [40.4k]

Then he looks up and is met by the greenest eyes on this side of the state border. Harry Styles grins wildly at him, dimple deep in his cheek as his eyes sparkle. Hope Floats 90’s AU. When Louis Tomlinson finds out his wife is cheating on him with his best friend, he packs up his life and takes his daughter back to his childhood hometown to start anew. The problem is—he’s not so sure he’s moving forwards rather than backwards. What he finds in the small Texas town is a whole lot of memories, people who think they still know him and a man who’s spent the past decade waiting for his return.

MARRIED FOR A WEEK?!  by gravitycentered/ @zaptains | [20.4k]

Hi guys :) You might recognize Harry from one or two of my old videos .. I was tagged in the Married for a week challenge so I asked him to be my husband ! We had to live together for a week and take each other out on a couple romantic dates and that, check out the video to see how it went :) Give it a like if you enjoyed and maybe subscribe if you haven't already. Love you all - Louis x

There's No Mate Better Than Womb-Mates  by jaerie/@jaerie | [13k]

On the last day of school, Louis decides losing his virginity to one of his high school crushes. The next day, he sleeps with his crush's twin brother. When Louis learns he's pregnant and loses his scholarship, he finds himself shamed and completely alone in the world. He turns to OnlyFans to pay the bills.

Sex Drunk Suckerpunch by thinlines/@thinlinez | [7k]

“Damn, Tommo, hit the jackpot this time? Which old bird or geezer gifted you that? Is it that mad bloke Cowell? Fuck! Did you give him a good dicking?” Louis’ face twisted in disgust as he shoved Niall off. “Don’t say shit like that. Fucking gross.” He shook his head, shuddering at the thought. “Well? Who is it? Who’s willing to spend that much on you?” Louis had to hightail into his room and lock the door to avoid Niall’s insistent questions. He sank down on his bed, carefully putting the Rolex back onto its cushion before noticing a folded note underneath the padding. Hello Louis, I’ve heard from Helene about you. Please contact me when you get this. All the love, H. “H?” Louis pushed back his long fringe. OR Sugar Baby Louis did what any sugar baby should avoid doing but (clichely) end up doing anyways, that is, failing for his sugar mama.

'Sup by MediaWhore/@mediawhorefics | [6k]

Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results. Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him. ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

Necessities of Nesting  by haztobegood/@haztobegood | [5k]

“I know this is a sensitive topic and you probably don’t want to talk about your nest with me. But I have a friend that teaches nesting classes. Maybe they could help.” “So you agree: my nest sucks and I’m a shit omega.”

That thunder in the distance (I know you're getting close) by Anonymous | [4k]

The grip on his hair tightens once more, Harry’s head now being lifted backwards. With thunder crackling loudly around them, Louis clenches his jaw, not stopping his rhythm, “Try again,” He barks out, “Who am I to you?” “My God!” Harry cries out, tears now threatening to spill. “You're my God. You, fuckkkk, you own me and I serve you. I’m just your–” A whine slips out of Harry, his head growing fussier as he gets closer to his climax, “I’m just a hole for you Sir.” “That’s right,” Louis breaths, sounding smug. “This hole belongs to me. It’s mine to fuck. It’s mine to eat. It’s mine to impregnate. You want that? You want me to fuck a baby into you?” He leans down and licks Harry’s earlobe. Whispering he adds, “Want me to make you a mommy?” OR, God of Thunder Louis pays Harry a visit on Halloween.

Do Not Falter (There's a Star Ahead) by LadyLondonderry/@londonfoginacup | [2k]

It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday? The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.

Look what you made me do(when you look the way you do)  by Dreaminrainbows/ @dreaminrainbows | [2k]

“Lou,” he practically whines, knees knocking together, looking at him with those beautiful big doe eyes under his lashes, an innocent seductress,” Wh-what are you doing here?” he pulls at the hem of his pink tee, big black letters reading TOP sprawled across his chest, he looks like he wants to simultaneously cross his hands over his chest and hide but also show it off. Louis knows he wanted to show it off, otherwise he wouldn't have gone outside so boldly with it.

"The Demon you’re trying to summon is currently unavailable." by red_panda28/@red-pandaaa | [666]

“We’re sorry, the Demon you’re trying to summon is currently unavailable. Your ritual is important to us. Please hold--” Harry sighed and hung up, glowering at his phone. “Go with the time they said. It will make things easier they said. They didn’t mention they’d still be putting me on fucking hold,” he muttered. OR Witch Harry tries to summon a Demon on Halloween

A Haunting in Doncaster  by disgruntledkittenface/@disgruntledkittenface | [666]

Harry has been haunting Louis for awhile, waiting for her to watch her episode of Forensic Files. She can't believe it when Louis skips it.

Be kind, leave comments and kudos ALWAYS!

Have yourselves a very happy holidays!