#This child whose lost Everything like he did | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hisfavegirl · 30 days ago

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One Mistake - Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Jace Velaryon.

Summary : You, the daughter of Alicent Hightower, once married to Aemond Targaryen, find yourself in a marriage born out of duty rather than love. The relationship with Aemond has always been a battleground of lies and heartache, and the arrival of a child born from his affair with Alys Rivers only deepens the chasm between you both.Heartbroken, betrayed, and feeling utterly alone, you escape the suffocating walls of King’s Landing, seeking solace in Dragonstone with your half-sister, Rhaenyra. In this new chapter of your life, you begin to heal, finding peace in the company of those who truly care for you. Among them is Jace, the son of Rhaenyra, whose quiet affection and steady presence begins to rekindle the spark of hope in your heart.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist.

HOTD Masterlist.

The tension in the air was thick, and your grip on the dagger tightened with every passing second. Aemond stood before you, unnervingly calm, his cold, piercing gaze meeting yours without a hint of fear. His posture remained relaxed, almost as if the weapon at his throat didn’t even faze him. But you couldn’t hold back the wave of fury that surged through you.

“Aemond,” you hissed, your voice laced with venom, “you’ve crossed a line this time.”

Aemond’s gaze shifted, his lips twitching with an almost imperceptible smile. “You always knew who I was, my love,” he replied, his tone ice-cold. “Did you really expect me to be loyal to you when the world has so much more to offer?”

Behind you, you could hear your mother, Alicent, and your sister, Helaena, desperately trying to intervene, pleading for you to put down the dagger. Their words were mere background noise to the storm inside your chest. The rage that had been quietly simmering for so long had finally boiled over.

You had tolerated his affairs, his coldness, his absence, but this… This was unforgivable. Alys River, the woman from Harrenhal, had come to your doorstep, a newborn in her arms, declaring that Aemond was the father. The mere thought of him being involved with someone else, and now with a child, was enough to break you.

“Is this your child, Aemond?” you spat, the words dripping with anger. “Are you really that heartless? Alys River, that harlot… You never cared about what you did to me, did you?”

Aemond’s eyes flickered, a trace of something—guilt, regret—flickering in them for a moment before he schooled his features back into their usual icy mask.

“I never wanted this, you know,” you said, voice shaking with a mixture of hurt and fury. “I’ve tried, Aemond. I’ve tried to make it work. But you… you’ve made a mockery of everything.”

Your breath was ragged, and the dagger trembled slightly in your hand, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to step back.

Aemond finally spoke, his voice as cold and detached as ever. “Put the dagger down, sister,” he said, his tone almost bored. “You’re not going to do anything.”

But you were done listening to his calm and calculating words. The betrayal had cut too deep, and the anger was too overwhelming. You didn’t care if he thought you were weak or if you would never see him the same way again. You couldn’t forgive him for this.

In a brief moment of clarity, you heard your mother’s voice, soft yet urgent, trying to calm you down. “Please, my child, think about what you’re doing.”

But the damage was already done. There was no coming back from this.

With trembling hands, you dropped the dagger, the metallic clang echoing through the room as it hit the floor. You stepped back from Aemond, his gaze unwavering, his silence deafening. The image of Alys Rivers holding a silver-haired baby replayed in your mind, each recollection stabbing your heart anew. Despair consumed you, the weight of your shattered marriage pressing down on you like a crushing wave.

Without a word, you turned and fled the room, the voices of your mother and sister calling after you lost in the whirlwind of your emotions. Tears streamed down your face as you ran through the halls of the Red Keep, seeking solace, but finding none. The pain was overwhelming, the betrayal unbearable. After what felt like an eternity, your feet led you to the door of your old chamber, the sanctuary you once called home before your marriage to Aemond.

You pushed the door open, only to find Alys Rivers inside, cradling the infant in her arms. Her presence in what was once your refuge felt like a dagger twisting in your heart. She looked up, her expression calm, almost smug.

“Aemond asked me to stay here,” she said, her voice soft, yet cutting. “He wanted me to be comfortable.”

The finality of her words shattered whatever remnants of hope you clung to. Rage and grief intertwined, fueling your steps as you slammed the door shut and stormed back to your marital chambers. The hallways blurred in your vision, your emotions a chaotic storm.

Once inside your chamber, you shut the door and locked it, leaning against the cold wood as your breath came in ragged gasps. The room, once a symbol of your union with Aemond, now felt suffocating.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, followed by Aemond’s voice, calm and composed.

“Let me in,” he said.

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms. “Why should I?” your voice broke, laced with anger and sorrow. “You’ve made it clear where your loyalties lie.”

There was a pause, then his voice came again, quieter this time. “You are my wife. This is your home.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “A wife you’ve betrayed, a home you’ve filled with deceit. How can you stand there and speak of loyalty?”

Aemond’s silence spoke louder than any words. You turned away from the door, wrapping your arms around yourself, seeking comfort in the emptiness of the room. The weight of his betrayal pressed on you, each moment more unbearable than the last.

You isolated yourself for days, the world outside your chamber fading into a blur. The persistent knocks at your door, the gentle pleas of your mother, the worried whispers of your sister—they all went unanswered. You sat by the window, gazing down at the sharp iron spikes below, their menacing points gleaming in the pale light. The thought crossed your mind, a fleeting, desperate idea, but you dismissed it just as quickly. You were heartbroken, but not mad.

The whispers reached you even in the silence of your solitude, the rumors carried on the wind like a cruel taunt. They spoke of Aemond visiting Alys Rivers’ chambers, cradling his illegitimate son with pride. Each word felt like a dagger twisting in your chest, a fresh wound on top of the ones that already bled.

You thought of the promises Aemond had made to you, the soft words of love whispered in the dark, the vows of loyalty and devotion. They felt like hollow echoes now, every one of them a lie. How easily had he cast aside those vows? How quickly had he turned to another, to Alys, and their child?

Your hand drifted to the windowsill, fingers tracing the cold stone as your mind spiraled deeper into despair. The betrayal consumed you, leaving little room for anything else. The image of Aemond, once a source of comfort and strength, now filled you with anguish. His eyes, once filled with affection, were now a haunting memory of deceit.

Each day felt longer than the last, the weight of his infidelity pressing down on you, suffocating and relentless. You thought of your love, the life you had envisioned together, now reduced to ashes. The future you had once dreamed of seemed distant, almost unreachable, as if it had belonged to another lifetime entirely.

You pulled the thin blanket around you tighter, as if it could shield you from the pain. But nothing could shield you from the truth. The man you loved had betrayed you, and no amount of time could change that.

The searing pain in your abdomen jolted you awake, sharp and relentless, unlike anything you had ever felt before. Instinctively, your hand flew to your stomach, clutching at the source of the agony. Each wave of pain grew stronger, rippling through your body and leaving you breathless. Desperation drove you to rise from your bed, to make your way to the door and seek help, but your legs gave out beneath you. You crumpled to the floor, the cold stone pressing against your skin as you gasped for air.

It was then you noticed the blood pooling between your legs, staining your nightgown and the floor beneath you. Panic surged through you, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as tears welled up in your eyes. You tried to call out, your voice weak and trembling, barely louder than a whisper. “Help,” you managed, your voice cracking under the weight of fear and pain.

Outside your chamber, your mother’s voice called to you, her tone laced with concern. She had come again, hoping to coax you out of your self-imposed isolation. But this time, as she turned the handle, she found the door unlocked. Pushing it open, she was greeted by a scene that made her blood run cold.

“Aemond!” she cried, her voice echoing through the halls as she rushed to your side. Her hands trembled as she tried to steady you, her heart pounding in her chest. “Someone, help!” she shouted, her voice breaking with desperation.

Aemond arrived moments later, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of you sprawled on the floor, pale and drenched in blood. His feet seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move as he watched you in your fragile state. The guilt in his eyes was unmistakable, but he didn’t dare approach.

The maester arrived swiftly, his presence a blur as he stand beside your bed and assessed the situation. His face was grim as he delivered the devastating news. “She has lost the child,” he said softly, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. “The stress and lack of nourishment have taken their toll.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. You hadn’t even known you were carrying a child, and now that life was gone, ripped away before you could even comprehend its existence. The sobs wracked your body, uncontrollable and raw, as the reality of your loss settled over you.

Your mother gathered you in her arms, her own tears falling silently as she held you close, offering what little comfort she could. You clung to her, your cries muffled against her shoulder, the pain too immense to bear alone.

Aemond remained on the periphery, his face etched with anguish. He reached out, but then drew back, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. He had betrayed you, and now, in your moment of greatest need, he was powerless to ease your suffering.

In your mother’s embrace, you felt a small measure of solace, but the ache in your heart was far from healed. You had lost your child, and with it, a piece of yourself. The pain would linger, a constant reminder of the love and life that had been taken from you too soon.

The days passed in a blur of pain and sorrow. You remained confined to your chambers, your heart weighed down by the unbearable grief of losing your child. The world outside your room seemed distant, muffled by the heavy fog of your sadness. Your mother, Alicent, and your sister, Helaena, visited frequently, bringing food and comfort. They tried to coax you into eating, but you could only lie listlessly as they fed you, your appetite lost in the depths of your despair.

Aemond had not come to see you since that fateful night. His absence was a bitter reminder of the distance that had grown between you. You had heard the whispers, the murmurs that he spent his nights with Alys Rivers and their illegitimate child. Each rumor cut deeper than the last, fueling your anger and deepening your sorrow. The betrayal burned in your chest, an open wound that refused to heal.

But today was different. As you lay in your bed, the door to your chamber creaked open. Expecting your mother or sister, you turned your head, only to find Aemond standing in the doorway. His expression was cold, his gaze hard as he stared at you.

“I lost my child because of you,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth or understanding. The accusation hung in the air, heavy and cruel.

You felt your heart shatter anew, his words slicing through the fragile threads that held you together. “How dare you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with rage and sorrow. “How dare you blame me for this.”

The pain and fury erupted from you in a torrent. You screamed at him, your voice raw with anguish. “It was you! It was your betrayal that brought me here! Your lies, your infidelity! You destroyed everything, not me!”

Aemond stood there, silent and unmoved, as you poured your heart out, blaming him for your suffering, for the loss of your child, for the broken pieces of your marriage. The tears streamed down your face, your body shaking with the force of your sobs.

Finally, exhausted and broken, you collapsed back onto the bed, your cries filling the room. The pain was too much to bear, the weight of your grief pressing down on you, suffocating and unrelenting.

A soft voice broke through the haze of your sorrow. Your mother, Alicent, stood at the doorway, her expression a mix of concern and confusion. “Why are you not resting?” she asked gently. “Why are you shouting at Aemond?”

Her presence only seemed to heighten your despair. “Because he blames me, Mother,” you choked out, your voice thick with tears. “He blames me for losing our child, for everything that has gone wrong. But it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.”

Alicent hurried to your side, her arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. She stroked your hair, murmuring soothing words as you sobbed into her shoulder. Aemond remained by the door, his face unreadable, but he did not approach. The distance between you was more than physical now; it was a chasm filled with unspoken words, broken promises, and irreparable pain.

As your mother held you, your tears finally began to subside, leaving behind a hollow ache in your chest. The pain would not disappear, but for now, you found solace in the comfort of your mother’s arms, even as your heart ached with the loss and betrayal that Aemond had left in his wake.

The pain of Aemond’s betrayal was no longer something you could endure. His indifference, the whispers of his continued affair with Alys Rivers and the child that belonged to her, cut deeper each day. You couldn’t bear to stay in the Red Keep any longer, not with the constant reminder of what you had lost. Tonight, you made a decision: you would leave. You would find peace away from the walls of King’s Landing, away from Aemond and the deceit.

The cold night air filled your lungs as you quietly made your way through the corridors of the Red Keep, your heart pounding with the weight of your decision. You couldn’t stay here. You couldn’t bear another day in that house of betrayal and lies. You had to go, and Dragonstone would be your refuge, the one place where you could find solace in the company of your sister, Rhaenyra, and her family.

With a heavy heart, you made your way to the stables. The quiet rustle of the night was the only sound that accompanied your footsteps. The guards, bribed and loyal, had cleared the way for you, their eyes flicking nervously around as they ensured no one would stop you. You quickly saddled your horse, the familiar motions of preparing your steed offering a brief distraction from the turmoil inside you.

Once mounted, you headed for the Dragonpit, the shadows of the night enveloping you as you approached the towering structure. There, waiting for you, was Sharapis, your dragon. His massive form loomed in the shadows, his eyes gleaming as you approached. You had always felt a connection to him, a bond forged from years of companionship and shared journeys.

“Sharapis,” you whispered softly as you mounted his back, the dragon’s scales glimmering in the moonlight. His wings stretched out as if eager to fly, and with a single command, you took off into the night sky, soaring toward Dragonstone.

The flight was exhilarating, the wind rushing through your hair as you felt the freedom that had long been denied you. But beneath it all was the ache of betrayal, the loss of a child you had never even known, and the quiet despair that had taken root in your soul. The journey felt both endless and too short, your thoughts lost in the vastness of the night.

As you descended toward Dragonstone, you could see the familiar silhouette of the castle looming in the distance. Your heart fluttered with a mix of relief and uncertainty. You had made the decision to leave everything behind, but now that you were here, would it be enough to heal the wounds Aemond had inflicted?

When Sharapis landed, you dismounted and quickly made your way into the castle. The cold stone floors echoed beneath your feet as you walked toward the heart of Dragonstone. The guards at the entrance saw you and immediately went to alert Rhaenyra and Daemon. The sounds of hurried footsteps soon followed as your half-sister and her husband arrived, her face filled with surprise and concern.

“Why have you come here?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft yet filled with urgency. She could see the state you were in, the exhaustion and pain written across your features. “What has happened?”

You took a deep breath, your eyes meeting hers. “I couldn’t stay there anymore,” you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. “Aemond… He’s with her again, and I can’t bear it. I lost our child, Rhaenyra, and I can’t stay in the place that reminds me of all the lies and betrayal. I need to get away, to heal, and I couldn’t stay in King’s Landing a moment longer.”

Rhaenyra stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “You are always welcome here,” she said with conviction. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever happened, whatever you need, we will help you through it.”

The warmth of her support was a balm to your broken heart. You felt the weight of the world slowly begin to lift as she surrounded you with love and understanding. She hadn’t asked for details, and she didn’t need to. You could see in her eyes that they understood.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer. The weight of the journey, the betrayal, the grief of losing your child, and the decision to leave it all behind finally caught up with you. In the safety of Dragonstone, you allowed yourself to break down, to grieve openly, knowing that here, at least, you would not be alone.

Rhaenyra held you tightly, offering you the comfort you so desperately needed, while Daemon stood a few steps behind, his gaze never leaving you.

“You will find peace again,” Rhaenyra whispered. “Here, with us, you are safe.”

As the morning sun cast its golden light over the Red Keep, your mother, Alicent, made her way to your chamber with a calm determination. She had come to check on you, as she did every morning, hoping that today might bring a glimmer of progress in your healing. However, as she gently pushed open the door, she was met with an empty room. Her heart skipped a beat, a sense of unease creeping in as she took in the sight of your untouched bed and the quiet stillness of the space.

Her eyes quickly fell upon a piece of parchment resting on the pillow. With trembling hands, she picked it up, unfolding it carefully. The words written in your familiar hand made her breath catch in her throat.

“Mother, do not worry about me, and do not try to find me. I have gone where I can heal and find peace. Please, annulled the arrangement of my marriage with Aemond. It is over. There is nothing left for me here.”

Alicent’s fingers tightened around the letter as a surge of emotions washed over her—relief that you were safe enough to leave a note, sadness at your departure, and a rising fury toward the one who had driven you to such despair.

Clutching the letter tightly, Alicent turned on her heel, her face set in a mask of anger. She knew exactly where to find Aemond. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the hallways as she marched toward your old chamber, the one where she knew Aemond was staying with Alys and their illegitimate child. Each step fueled her anger, her mind racing with thoughts of how Aemond had betrayed not only you but also the family’s honor.

When she reached the door, she didn’t bother to knock. Instead, she pushed it open with force, her eyes blazing as she entered. Inside, she found Aemond standing near the window, Alys seated with the infant in her arms. The air in the room grew tense as they turned to face her, Alys’s expression a mixture of surprise and smug satisfaction.

Aemond’s usual calm demeanor faltered as he saw the letter in Alicent’s hand and the fire in her eyes. “Mother,” he began, but Alicent cut him off, her voice cold and sharp.

“Do not ‘Mother’ me,” she snapped, holding up the letter. “Explain this. Explain why my daughter, your wife, felt the need to flee from her home in the dead of night because of your actions.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze flickering briefly to Alys, who remained silent, cradling her child.

“You have disgraced our family,” Alicent continued, her voice trembling with controlled rage. “You have broken her heart, her spirit. And now, you will face the consequences. I will see to it that this marriage is annulled. She deserves better than this, better than you.”

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he did not argue. The weight of his actions hung heavily in the room, and even Alys seemed uncomfortable under Alicent’s furious gaze.

“I will not allow this to continue,” Alicent declared. “You will leave her be. You will not pursue her, and you will not bring further shame upon this family.”

With that, Alicent turned on her heel, her grip on the letter unrelenting as she strode out of the room. Her heart ached for you, for the pain you had endured, but she was resolute. She would do everything in her power to protect you and to ensure that you found the peace you deserved.

Almost two years had passed since you left the Red Keep behind, finding solace and a new beginning in Dragonstone. The pain and betrayal you once felt had slowly been replaced by the warmth of your family, especially Rhaenyra and her children. Your days were now filled with laughter and peace, and the exchange of letters with your mother had become a comforting routine. She had informed you that the annulment of your marriage to Aemond had been finalized, a message that brought a profound sense of relief. You were free, truly free, from the chains of a past that had once broken you.

Life in Dragonstone had become your sanctuary. The walls, the sea, and the skies felt like home, a place where you could breathe and live without the shadows of your past looming over you. In this haven, you had grown close to Jace. His kindness, his understanding, and his gentle presence had slowly woven their way into your heart. He had been a constant source of support, offering you companionship and care as you healed from the wounds Aemond had left behind.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the castle, Jace asked you to walk with him along the cliffs. The salty breeze played with your hair as you strolled side by side, the silence between you comfortable and familiar. Jace had always been thoughtful, but tonight there was a certain tension in the air, a nervous energy you hadn’t felt from him before.

He paused near the edge of the cliff, the crashing waves below providing a soothing backdrop to the moment. Turning to face you, he took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours with a mix of hope and vulnerability.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “You’ve been through so much, and yet, here you are, strong and resilient. Being with you these past two years has been the happiest time of my life.”

Your heart began to race, a mixture of anticipation and surprise swirling within you.

“I know you might think it’s too soon, or that you’re not ready, but I need you to know how I feel,” he continued, reaching for your hands and holding them gently. “I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?”

His words hung in the air, filled with sincerity and love. You could see the earnestness in his eyes, the way he waited anxiously for your response, hoping you felt the same.

For a moment, memories of the past flickered in your mind, but they were quickly overshadowed by the warmth of the present, the life you had built here, the love that had grown between you and Jace. He had been patient, never rushing you, always understanding.

A soft smile spread across your face as you squeezed his hands. “Yes, Jace,” you whispered, tears of joy welling in your eyes. “I’ll marry you.”

His face lit up with relief and happiness, and before you knew it, he had pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. In his arms, you felt safe, loved, and ready to begin this new chapter of your life, a chapter filled with love, hope, and the promise of a future together.

As you and Jace walked hand in hand back into the castle, your hearts were light with joy and anticipation. The corridors of Dragonstone felt warmer tonight, the stone walls echoing with the soft whispers of your shared future. When you reached the great hall, Rhaenyra and Daemon were seated by the hearth, engaged in a quiet conversation. Their attention shifted as you both entered, Jace leading you forward.

Jace’s hand squeezed yours gently as he addressed his mother. “Mother, we have something to share,” he began, his voice filled with excitement. “We’ve decided to marry. She has agreed to be my wife.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes lit up with happiness, a broad smile spreading across her face. She stood and stepped forward, taking both your hands in hers. “This is wonderful news,” she said, her voice warm with genuine joy. “I am so happy for both of you.”

Her embrace was tight and filled with love, as if welcoming you fully into her family. It was a moment of acceptance and celebration, her blessing clear and heartfelt.

However, as your eyes shifted to Daemon, his expression was more reserved. His jaw tightened slightly, and though he didn’t speak immediately, you could sense the conflict within him. The legacy of your mother, Alicent, and the tensions that had long simmered between their families were not easily forgotten. Yet, he held his tongue, his gaze meeting yours with a guarded intensity.

“Congratulations,” Daemon finally said, his tone measured, but his words carrying a hint of reluctance. He rose to his feet, standing beside Rhaenyra. “I trust you will make each other happy.”

Though his words were polite, there was an underlying tension. He didn’t openly oppose the union, but it was clear he harbored reservations, likely due to the history that bound your families in strife.

Jace, sensing the unease, stepped closer to you, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist. “We understand this isn’t easy,” he said, addressing Daemon directly. “But we love each other, and we want to build a future together. That’s all that matters.”

Daemon’s eyes flicked to Jace, then back to you. After a long moment, he gave a slight nod, perhaps acknowledging the sincerity in Jace’s words, or perhaps choosing to set aside his reservations for the sake of peace.

Rhaenyra, ever the peacemaker, placed a hand on Daemon’s arm, a silent plea for understanding. “What matters is that they’ve found happiness in each other,” she said softly. “Let’s celebrate that.”

Daemon exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “Very well,” he conceded, though his tone was still tinged with reluctance. “Let it be a union of love.”

Relieved, you smiled, feeling Jace’s reassuring presence beside you. Rhaenyra’s enthusiasm and Daemon’s begrudging acceptance were enough to make this moment a hopeful beginning. The path forward wouldn’t be without challenges, but together, you knew you could face whatever came your way.

The day of your wedding dawned quietly, the morning mist wrapping Dragonstone in a serene embrace. Unlike the grand, ostentatious ceremonies you had once known, this day was intimate, marked by simplicity and the presence of only those closest to your heart. The small gathering was a reflection of the love you shared with Jace, a quiet yet profound celebration of a new beginning.

As you prepared in your chambers, Rhaenyra stood by your side, her presence a comforting anchor in the swirl of your emotions. She watched as you adjusted the delicate fabric of your gown, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You’ve been through so much,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. “But today is about you—your happiness, your future. You deserve this joy, and I’m so proud of you.”

Her words were a balm to your nerves, and you felt a wave of gratitude for her unwavering support. She had been more than a half-sister; she had become a true sister, a confidante in your darkest hours. Her hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly. “This is your moment,” she whispered. “Take it, and let yourself be happy.”

When the time came, you walked towards the small altar where Jace awaited, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of love and awe. His presence was calming, his steady gaze promising a life of mutual respect and affection. The warmth of his smile as you reached his side steadied your racing heart, and the nervous flutter in your stomach eased as he took your hands in his.

The ceremony was brief, the words spoken simple yet heartfelt. Rhaenyra and Daemon stood beside you, their presence a testament to the new family you were building. Alicent’s absence was felt, but her blessings had been given through her letters, and you carried her love in your heart.

As the vows were exchanged, you felt a profound sense of peace wash over you. This was not a union born of duty or political gain, but one of genuine affection and shared dreams. Jace’s hand in yours was a promise, a symbol of the partnership you were forging together.

When the ceremony concluded, and you were declared husband and wife, the small gathering erupted in soft applause. Jace leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that sealed your new bond, a gentle reminder of the love that had brought you to this moment.

Later, as the day faded into night and the candles in the great hall flickered softly, you found yourself beside Jace, the simplicity of the day leaving you content. The weight of the past began to lift, replaced by the promise of a future filled with hope and love.

Rhaenyra’s words echoed in your mind, a reminder that you had earned this happiness. And as Jace’s arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter—one where you could finally find the peace and joy you had longed for.

Time seemed to slip through your fingers like grains of sand, each day blending seamlessly into the next. It felt as though only yesterday you and Jace stood before the small gathering, exchanging vows. Yet, here you were, sitting in the sun-dappled garden with Rhaenyra, her laughter mingling with the soft coos of little Aegon in her arms. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, and you rested a hand on your growing belly, feeling the life stirring within.

Rhaenyra’s teasing smile was as radiant as ever, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know,” she began, a playful lilt in her voice, “Daemon and I couldn’t sleep for weeks after your wedding. The walls here are not as thick as you might think.” Her laughter was infectious, and you felt your cheeks flush with warmth as you looked away, embarrassed yet unable to suppress a giggle.

“Rhaenyra!” you protested, your tone a mixture of shock and amusement. The memories of those early days—filled with love, passion, and whispered promises—were vivid in your mind. The bond between you and Jace had deepened quickly, the love you shared blooming into something even more profound.

“But look at the result,” Rhaenyra continued, her gaze dropping to your rounded belly. “It seems all that…enthusiasm bore fruit.” Her hand reached out, covering yours as it rested on your stomach. “You’re glowing, and soon you’ll have a little one of your own.”

The thought filled you with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The prospect of becoming a mother, of bringing a new life into the world, was both thrilling and daunting. But the support of Jace, Rhaenyra, and the family you had found in Dragonstone gave you strength.

Rhaenyra’s voice softened, the teasing edge replaced with genuine warmth. “You’ll be an amazing mother,” she said. “This child will be so loved, surrounded by a family that cherishes them.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you felt a kick from within, a gentle reminder of the life growing inside you. The future was filled with promise, and as you sat there, surrounded by love and laughter, you felt a profound sense of peace.

“Thank you, Rhaenyra,” you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. “For everything.”

Rhaenyra squeezed your hand, her expression one of sisterly affection. “We’re family,” she replied. “And we take care of our own.”

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the garden, you leaned back in your chair, contentment washing over you. The journey had been long and fraught with challenges, but now, with a new life growing within you and a family that stood by your side, you felt ready to embrace whatever the future held.

Jace had grown into a devoted and attentive husband, always watching over you with a protective fervor that bordered on overbearing. His love and concern were palpable, and while you appreciated his attentiveness, there were moments when you wished for a bit more freedom. Today was one such instance.

As you sat in the garden with Rhaenyra, basking in the afternoon sun, you heard Jace calling your name. His voice, laced with a mixture of worry and relief, reached you before he did. You turned to see him striding towards you, his brow furrowed, still slightly sweaty from his training session with Luke.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his tone gentle yet firm. “I looked for you in our chambers, but you weren’t there.”

You offered a reassuring smile, hoping to ease his concerns. “I was just spending some time with your mother in the garden. I didn’t want to disturb your training, and I felt like getting some fresh air.”

Jace knelt beside you, his hands gently cradling your face as he searched your eyes for any sign of discomfort or distress. “You should have told me,” he murmured. “I don’t like you wandering around alone, especially not now.”

His gaze flicked to your growing belly, a tender smile tugging at his lips. The worry in his eyes softened, replaced by the gentle adoration he always showed when thinking about the child you were carrying.

“I’m fine, Jace,” you reassured him, placing a hand over his. “Rhaenyra was with me the whole time.”

Rhaenyra chuckled softly from her seat, watching the exchange with amusement. “Jace, she’s perfectly safe here. You don’t need to hover over her every moment.”

“I can’t help it,” Jace admitted, his cheeks coloring slightly. “I just…I worry.”

You squeezed his hand, appreciating his concern but also wanting him to understand. “I know, and I love that you care so much. But I need you to trust that I’ll take care of myself too.”

He nodded, sighing softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll try. But I’ll always worry about you.”

Standing, Jace offered his hand to help you up, his protective nature not allowing him to let you rise on your own. “Come on, let’s get you inside. It’s getting cooler.”

With his arm around your waist, guiding you carefully back to the castle, you felt a sense of warmth and security. Jace’s love, though sometimes overwhelming, was steadfast and unwavering. It was a love you cherished, knowing that it came from a place of deep devotion and care.

As you entered your shared chamber, Jace guided you gently to the bed, urging you to sit and rest. He knelt before you, deftly removing your shoes, his fingers tenderly massaging your ankles. His touch was soothing, filled with care, as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your growing belly. His hands caressed your abdomen, his lips following with a whisper meant for the baby you both eagerly awaited.

“You’ve been so good to your mother,” Jace murmured, his voice full of affection. “We can’t wait to meet you.”

You smiled down at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you basked in the warmth of the moment. The quiet intimacy was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and a servant entered, carrying a sealed letter. The servant handed it to you with a respectful bow before retreating.

Curiosity piqued, you broke the seal, recognizing the familiar handwriting of your mother, Alicent. The contents of the letter were an invitation to return to King’s Landing for a grand celebration in honor of King Viserys’s birthday. Your heart skipped a beat as you read her request, knowing the importance of the occasion. It was not just a celebration for the realm’s ruler, but a family gathering—a chance to reconnect with your roots.

You looked up at Jace, who had been observing your reaction closely. “It’s from my mother,” you explained, handing him the letter. “She’s inviting us to King’s Landing for my father’s birthday celebration.”

Jace’s eyes scanned the letter, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered the implications. “Do you want to go?” he asked, his concern evident. “I know things are… complicated with your family.”

You sighed softly, placing a hand over his. “It’s complicated, yes. But it’s also important. Rhaenyra and Daemon will likely want to attend, and it’s a chance for me to see my family, despite everything. I think we should go.”

Jace nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If that’s what you want, we’ll go. But I’ll be by your side the whole time. I won’t let anything happen to you or our child.”

His protective nature reassured you, easing some of the anxiety that had begun to creep in. “Thank you, Jace. I feel better knowing you’ll be with me."

As the two of you sat together, contemplating the journey ahead, a sense of anticipation mingled with the lingering tension of old wounds. The road to King’s Landing would not just be a physical journey, but an emotional one as well—a step towards confronting the past and embracing whatever the future might hold for your family.

The towering spires of the Red Keep came into view, casting long shadows over the bustling port of King’s Landing. You stood at the edge of the ship’s deck, the sea breeze tugging at your gown as you gazed at the familiar yet distant city. Jace was at your side, his arm a comforting presence around your waist, his hand resting protectively over the swell of your belly. His touch was a constant reminder that, no matter what awaited you in the capital, you were not alone.

You turned your head slightly, catching sight of Rhaenyra and Daemon nearby. They, too, were watching the city approach, their expressions a mix of resolve and nostalgia. For them, like for you, this was more than just a visit—it was a return to a place filled with memories, both bitter and sweet.

Leaning into Jace’s shoulder, you allowed yourself a moment of quiet respite, closing your eyes as his arms encircled you. The journey had been taxing, especially given your current condition, and the looming prospect of facing your past weighed heavily on your mind. Yet, in Jace’s embrace, you found a sense of peace and strength, a reminder of the life you were building together, far removed from the shadows of King’s Landing.

Jace pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice soft and reassuring. “We’ll get through this together,” he whispered. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here.”

You nodded, clutching his hand a little tighter. The city grew larger, its walls drawing closer as the ship made its final approach. The sight of it stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you—anticipation, dread, hope. As the Red Keep loomed ever nearer, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the days to come. You had left this place as a broken woman, but now you were returning stronger, with a family of your own to protect and cherish.

Whatever awaited you within those stone walls, you knew that with Jace by your side, you could face it.

As you stepped down carefully from the carriage, the bustling courtyard of the Red Keep greeted you with its usual cacophony. Servants scurried about, arms laden with decorations and provisions for the grand celebration planned for King Viserys’s birthday. The air buzzed with excitement, yet you felt a weariness settle over you, the long journey from Dragonstone taking its toll.

Jace was immediately at your side, his hand steadying you as he helped you out of the carriage. His eyes searched yours, concern etched across his face. “Are you all right?” he asked gently, his voice barely audible over the din around you.

You nodded, though exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. “Just tired,” you admitted softly.

Rhaenyra and Daemon approached, their expressions a mix of anticipation and something else—perhaps trepidation—given the complex dynamics that awaited within the Keep. As they prepared to make their way toward the throne room to greet King Viserys, you turned to Rhaenyra with a small, apologetic smile.

“Would it be all right if we went straight to our chambers?” you asked. “I need to rest.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened with understanding, and she nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Take your time. We’ll see you at the feast later.”

Daemon gave a brief nod of agreement, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned to follow his wife into the heart of the Keep.

With Jace’s arm firmly around your waist, you made your way through the familiar halls of the Red Keep. The grand corridors seemed both unchanged and yet different, imbued with memories that felt like they belonged to another life. As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice the way the servants’ eyes widened in shock at the sight of you. Whispers followed in your wake, their astonishment clear as they took in the sight of the daughter of Alicent Hightower, once married to Prince Aemond, now heavily pregnant and walking arm in arm with Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

Jace’s grip on you tightened, a silent show of support against the unspoken judgments that hung in the air. He leaned in close, his voice a low murmur meant only for you. “Let them stare,” he said, a hint of defiance in his tone. “They don’t know your strength, or ours.”

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite your fatigue. His unwavering support was a balm to your frayed nerves, and you found comfort in the steady rhythm of his steps beside you.

As you finally reached the familiar doors of your chambers, Jace opened them for you, ushering you inside before closing the door firmly behind you. The quiet of the room was a welcome reprieve from the noise outside. He guided you to the bed, helping you sit before kneeling in front of you, his hands resting on your knees.

“You’ve been incredible through all of this,” he said, his eyes full of admiration. “Rest now. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. As you lay back against the pillows, Jace settled beside you, his presence a reassuring anchor in a world that still felt uncertain.

As you turned, the door to your chambers slowly creaked open, and there, standing in the doorway, was your mother, Alicent, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Beside her stood Heleana, your sister, who looked at you with a mixture of concern and love. They both stepped inside, and without a word, they enveloped you in a warm embrace.

The familiar scent of your mother’s perfume and the comforting presence of Heleana brought a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you longed for. You felt a lump form in your throat as your mother spoke, her voice thick with emotion.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered, her hand gently brushing through your hair. Heleana joined in, wrapping her arms around you, her voice soft but filled with affection. “We’ve both missed you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, not just from the pain of the past but from the sudden realization that despite everything, they were here, with you now. You had built a new life, but the love of family—those who truly cared—was something that always remained.

Your mother, pulling back slightly, gazed at Jace, who had stood silently by your side, his protective arm still around you. She took a deep breath before speaking again, her voice steady but laden with regret. “I… I want to thank you, Jace,” she said, her words sincere. “For giving her what she truly deserves. For loving her the way she should have always been loved.”

She paused, her gaze shifting to the floor briefly before lifting it again to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she continued, her voice now tinged with sorrow. “For everything. The way I treated you, and your family. You did not deserve that.”

Jace, ever the steady presence, simply nodded, his eyes softening as he met her gaze. “It’s in the past,” he replied gently. “We move forward now.”

A brief silence followed, the weight of the past few years hanging between them. But in this moment, there was understanding, a step toward healing. Your mother’s apology, though not easy for her to give, had an undeniable sincerity. You could see it in the way her hands trembled slightly as she clasped her own in front of her.

Heleana, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up, her voice gentle. “You deserve happiness, both of you,” she said, her eyes filled with warmth. “I’m happy for you. For the family you’ve created.”

Her words were like a balm to the wounds that had been left untreated for so long. And as the room settled into a peaceful silence, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It wasn’t just the apology or the reconciliation—it was the simple truth that, despite everything, you had a family that still cared for you, and that love was worth rebuilding.

Your mother’s gentle hand traced your growing belly, her touch warm and tender, as she smiled softly at you. “You look radiant,” she said, her voice full of affection, her eyes glimmering with love. She kissed your forehead, a motherly gesture that made your heart swell. “I’m so proud of you,” she added quietly, her voice filled with emotions she didn’t often let slip.

Rhaenyra, who had been moving around the room, paused to look at you. Her expression softened, a knowing smile curving on her lips. “You should rest,” she said, stepping forward to help with your things despite your protests. “Let us do this. You’re carrying the future, after all.”

You tried to decline, wanting to take care of things yourself, but Rhaenyra was insistent, and her tone was kind but firm. “It’s not about what you can do—it’s about what we can do for you now.” With that, she motioned to her attendants, who began to unpack your belongings and arrange them carefully.

Despite your desire to remain independent, there was something comforting in the care they showed you. Rhaenyra’s presence felt like a reminder of the family bonds you had begun to rebuild, and your mother’s soft touch was a reminder that, despite everything, love had endured.

You sighed, a sense of peace settling over you as you allowed them to help. It was clear that both your mother and Rhaenyra wanted to support you—especially now, during this delicate time. Their kindness, in its simplicity, was more than you had ever expected. It was healing in its own way, allowing you to finally feel at ease, even amidst all the changes in your life.

As the room began to take shape with the items that had been moved and arranged, Rhaenyra smiled at you. “You deserve this happiness. You deserve to rest, to be cared for.”

Your heart swelled with gratitude, and you reached out, squeezing Rhaenyra’s hand gently. “Thank you,” you said softly, knowing that no matter the journey you’d been on, this moment—this sense of family—was the true gift.

You let out a small, frustrated sigh as you looked at the dresses hanging before you. The reality of your growing belly settled in as you tried on one gown after another, only to find that none of them fit quite like they used to. Each attempt left you feeling more disheartened. The grand celebration tonight, your chance to present yourself to the court and your family, was approaching, but the idea of not having anything suitable to wear only made you feel more exposed.

You muttered under your breath, cursing softly at the fact that none of your formal gowns fit anymore. “Why did it have to be tonight?” you mumbled, feeling a growing sense of annoyance. The last thing you wanted was to feel like you were drawing attention to the changes in your body—something that had already been the source of too many complicated emotions.

As you stepped out of the gown you had just tried on, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. For a moment, you stared at yourself, unsure of how to feel. The weight of everything—the pregnancy, the marriage, the responsibility—had taken its toll. And yet, beneath the surface, there was a flicker of excitement. Tonight was about celebrating, about reclaiming some sense of joy after everything you had been through.

You shook off your frustration and took a deep breath. You needed to find something, something that would make you feel confident. After all, this night was not just about appearances—it was about embracing who you had become, and all that you were carrying with you, literally and figuratively.

Just as you were about to give up, a familiar voice called out from the door.

“Need a little help?” Jace stood there, leaning against the frame of the door, his usual warmth and concern written on his face.

You smiled softly at him, despite the frustration bubbling inside. “I can’t find anything that fits for tonight,” you admitted, your voice tinged with exasperation.

You blinked in surprise as Jace gestured toward one of the servants. “Please bring the dress I’ve prepared for her,” he said with a smile, his voice carrying the tone of someone who knew exactly what was needed. You watched in confusion as the servant returned with a beautiful gown in her hands.

The gown was a striking combination of deep red and black, the colors of House Targaryen. It was unlike any of the dresses you had worn before—bold, yet elegant, fitting for the occasion. You could hardly believe it when Jace explained.

“I knew the formal gowns wouldn’t fit you anymore, so I had something made for you,” Jace said softly, walking over to you with a small smile on his lips. “I wanted you to feel like yourself tonight, regardless of… well, everything else.”

As the servant helped you into the gown, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude and warmth toward Jace. It was so thoughtful of him, and it showed how much he cared. The fabric fit comfortably, accentuating your form without being too tight, and the colors seemed to shimmer in the soft light of the room.

Jace stepped back, eyes scanning the gown with a proud glint in his eyes. “What do you think? Does it fit?”

You twirled around in the gown, the fabric flowing gracefully with each movement. It felt different from the gaudy or tight dresses you were used to—this one felt like it had been made just for you, a perfect blend of your strength, your heritage, and the love that surrounded you now.

“It’s perfect,” you said, smiling at him with genuine appreciation. “Thank you, Jace. This means more than you know.”

He grinned, the light in his eyes soft and affectionate. “Anything to make you feel special tonight,” he said. “And I think you already do.”

Your heart fluttered with a mix of emotions, but above all, you felt a deep sense of peace. With Jace by your side, you could face whatever the night held. And for the first time in a long while, you felt ready.

You stood before the mirror, gazing at your reflection, the elegant gown hugging your growing form. The deep red and black fabric seemed to hold your essence, a blend of strength and grace. Jace stood behind you, his arms wrapped gently around you, his hand resting on your swollen belly. The warmth of his touch grounded you, and a sense of peace settled in your chest.

As you stared into the mirror, you felt a small sigh escape your lips. The life you once knew, with its chaos and heartbreak, felt so far away now. The man behind you—Jace—was all you had ever wanted in a partner. He loved you not because of duty or obligation, but because he truly saw you. The love he gave was not a burden; it was a gift, something you’d never known you needed but now couldn’t live without.

Jace’s voice, soft and tender, broke the silence. “You look beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

His words made your heart flutter. There was no resentment, no bitterness in his tone—just pure love. You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze in the mirror. His eyes were full of warmth, tenderness, and sincerity. His fingers moved slowly over your belly, caressing it as if holding your unborn child in reverence.

“I love you,” Jace whispered again, his voice a soothing melody that filled your heart with warmth. “More than you’ll ever know.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of his embrace. It was so different from the cold, harsh reality you had once endured. With Jace, there was no fear, no uncertainty—only love, acceptance, and a future that felt brighter than anything you had ever imagined.

“I love you too,” you murmured back, your voice thick with emotion. “You make me feel safe. Happy.”

The moment stretched between you, both of you simply holding each other in the silence. It felt right—like this was where you were always meant to be. Aemond’s betrayal, the heartache you had suffered, seemed distant and small now, swallowed by the love and comfort that Jace had given you.

“Tonight,” Jace said softly, breaking the quiet, “We’ll celebrate our new life. But for now, it’s just you and me. I’m so grateful for this—grateful for you.”

You smiled, turning in his arms to face him completely. He leaned in to kiss you, a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed everything words could not. His love was overwhelming, and in his arms, you felt whole again—no longer the broken woman from before, but a woman who had been healed by the love of her true partner.

In this moment, nothing else mattered. Tonight, you would share the joy of your new beginning, but for now, you were content in the stillness, with Jace by your side, loving you like no one ever had before.

As you walked side by side with Jace into the grand hall, the sounds of laughter and celebration filled the air. The atmosphere was lively, but as soon as you entered, a hush fell over the room. All eyes turned toward you. The weight of their gaze was undeniable, but it was Jace’s presence beside you that steadied your steps, grounding you amidst the scrutiny.

Your heart fluttered with nerves, but Jace’s hand held yours firmly, his reassuring touch offering you solace. You walked confidently toward your father, Viserys, who sat at the head of the table. A smile spread across his face as he looked at you, his eyes softening as they landed on your belly. He stood to greet you, his voice warm and welcoming.

“Congratulations,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to your swollen belly before returning to meet your eyes. “I am so happy for both of you.”

You smiled back, the words of your father bringing a small sense of comfort. Jace squeezed your hand, his pride evident in the way he stood next to you. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you and your new beginning.

But as you made your way forward, you couldn’t ignore the intense gaze from across the room. Aemond sat at the far end of the table, his cold eyes locked onto you and Jace. His expression was unreadable, his lips set in a tight line as he stared without saying a word. Next to him, Alys sat silently, her child resting in her lap—an image that seemed to freeze your heart.

The sight of Aemond, his gaze piercing and distant, brought a tightness to your chest. You could feel his disapproval radiating from him, a silent accusation in his eyes. The child in his lap, a reminder of his betrayal, only added to the tension that pulsed between you.

You could almost hear the silent words between you and him, unspoken but heavy in the air. But you refused to let it affect you. You had moved on. You had found a new life, a new family in Jace, and no matter how Aemond looked at you, it didn’t change that.

Jace’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a subtle reminder of his unwavering support. He could feel the shift in the air, but he said nothing. Instead, he simply stood tall beside you, his presence a shield against the coldness from across the room.

You walked toward your father and took your seat, the weight of the moment settling over you. Aemond’s gaze never wavered, but you refused to meet it. The past was behind you, and you were no longer the woman who had let herself be trapped by his coldness and betrayal.

Tonight was about celebration, about the new life growing within you and the love you had found with Jace. The past—Aemond, Alys, the hurt—had no place here, and you wouldn’t let it ruin your joy.

As the evening unfolded, the lively chatter and the sounds of the celebration filled the grand hall, but your attention was entirely on Jace. He had insisted you eat, even though your plate was still full. His worry for you, for the well-being of the child you were carrying, was evident in every gesture.

When the manservant brought forward a plate of sweets you particularly enjoyed, Jace smiled proudly and handed them to you, not noticing the amused glances from Rhaenyra and your mother, Alicent, seated beside you.

“I told you I’m fine,” you laughed softly, lightly pushing the plate of sweets away, already feeling full from the rich meal that had been served. “I haven’t even finished my dinner yet.”

But Jace was unperturbed, his eyes filled with concern. “You need to eat more, for the baby. Mother and your mother both say you should eat plenty, and they’re right,” he said, his tone unwavering.

Rhaenyra and Alicent exchanged glances, their laughter echoing softly across the table. You could tell they were enjoying the sight of Jace’s earnestness, the way he was fussing over you like a doting husband. It was both endearing and a little frustrating, especially when your stomach had no room for any more sweets.

“Jace, I really don’t need any more,” you said, gently pushing the plate further away. “I’m already full. Really.”

But Jace simply smiled, oblivious to your protests. “Nonsense,” he said. “A little more won’t hurt, will it?”

Your mother’s laughter rang through the air. “He certainly is determined,” she teased, her gaze softening as she watched her daughter and son-in-law interact.

You sighed, a mix of amusement and mild exasperation at Jace’s overzealous attention to your needs. But despite the small frustration, you couldn’t help but smile at how much he cared, at how he always made sure you were well taken care of, whether it was ensuring you ate enough or offering constant support.

“You’re impossible,” you said with a playful smile, and Jace just grinned, pleased with his efforts to look after you.

Rhaenyra leaned in, her eyes twinkling with humor. “He does make it hard for you to say no, doesn’t he?”

You nodded, giving Jace a mock glare before turning back to your mother. “I don’t know how you put up with him all the time.”

Alicent chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s all part of being a mother-in-law. I suppose I’ve grown used to it.”

Though the playful banter continued, it was clear that your family, despite the turmoil of the past, had found a sense of joy and peace again. And that, in itself, made the night feel all the more special.You felt a slight tension rise in your chest as Alys approached, her presence undeniable as she cradled her child in her arms. She smiled warmly, offering her congratulations to you and Jace, her voice sweet and calm.

“Congratulations to you both,” Alys said softly, her eyes lingering on your growing belly.

You nodded politely, offering a small smile, but your mind couldn’t help but wander. As she mentioned her son, you glanced at the child she was holding. The little one had silver hair, unmistakably a Targaryen trait. You couldn’t help but comment, “He looks just like Aemond.”

Alys smiled, her expression gentle as she glanced down at her child. “Yes, he does,” she said, her voice filled with maternal pride. “Aemond and I are hoping for a sibling for him soon.”

Her words, though kind, hit you like a sharp pang in your heart. The thought of Aemond and Alys trying for another child, especially after everything that had transpired, was almost too much to bear. You forced yourself to maintain a calm exterior, though your stomach churned with a mix of emotions—jealousy, hurt, and frustration.

Jace, noticing the slight shift in your mood, squeezed your hand reassuringly under the table, his eyes flicking between you and Alys.

Alys, seemingly oblivious to the effect her words had on you, continued talking about her son and how happy she was with her little family. But your mind was elsewhere, struggling to reconcile the image of Aemond with his new family and the new life you were trying to build with Jace.

You did your best to smile and respond politely, but the conversation felt strained. It wasn’t that you harbored ill feelings towards Alys or her son—it was the reminder of everything you had lost, and how easily Aemond had moved on, leaving you behind in the wake of his choices.

Jace, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, gave you a subtle nudge, and you quickly redirected your attention back to him, offering a smile that was only half genuine.

“Thank you, Alys,” you said, your voice steady, though inside, a whirlwind of emotions raged. “I’m glad to see you and your son doing well.”

She smiled warmly, seemingly unaware of the tension that simmered beneath the surface. “It’s been wonderful, truly,” Alys replied before turning her attention back to her child.

As she walked away, you exhaled deeply, grateful for the brief respite from the conversation. Jace gave your hand a comforting squeeze, his silent support more than enough to help you regain your composure.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, taking comfort in the stability he provided, a stark contrast to the chaos and heartbreak of your past.

The moment Alys left, a wave of relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. The atmosphere grew tense once again as you saw Aemond and Aegon approaching, the weight of their presence undeniable. You could feel your heart race, your body instinctively tensing as they drew nearer.

Aegon, ever the charismatic one, gave you a warm smile and congratulated you on your marriage. His words were genuine, though the tension in the air was palpable. Aemond, however, had a different aura—his expression was cold, his eyes sharp as he fixed his gaze on you and Jace.

“Congratulations,” Aemond said with a forced politeness, though his voice lacked warmth. He then added with a calculated calmness, “I must admit, your decision to marry Jace is quite the surprise. How could you marry a bastard like him?”

The words stung, but you didn’t flinch. You had grown accustomed to Aemond’s cutting remarks. You met his gaze with equal intensity, refusing to let him undermine your happiness any longer.

“How could I marry a bastard like him?” you echoed, your voice steady, but a fire burning in your chest. “And how could you, Aemond, have a bastard child with the bastard girl of Harrenhal? What’s the difference between us?”

Aemond’s face tightened at your words, his lips pressing into a thin line as he took in your response. The room felt smaller, the tension thicker. He opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. He had always expected you to cower before him, but today was different. Today, you were not the same woman he had left behind.

You saw a flicker of frustration in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a cold, dismissive look. “You’ve changed,” he muttered, though it seemed more to himself than to you.

Jace, ever protective, stepped closer to you, his arm coming around your waist possessively. He met Aemond’s stare with a challenging gaze, unspoken tension hanging between them.

Aegon, sensing the growing hostility, quickly intervened, attempting to defuse the situation. “Let’s not do this now,” he said, his tone softer. “It’s a celebration tonight. We’re here to honor our father.”

But Aemond, still silent, looked between you and Jace with a mixture of disdain and something else you couldn’t quite place. He knew the words he had spoken had hit their mark, but you were no longer the woman who would let his venom affect her.

“I’ve made my choices, Aemond,” you said firmly, your gaze unwavering. “And I’ll continue to make them. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

With that, you turned your attention to Jace, your hand finding his, drawing strength from him as you walked away from the tension-filled encounter. The murmurs of the room faded as you and Jace made your way to a quieter corner, where you could finally breathe freely again.

Jace, ever the calm in the storm, gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his eyes soft with affection. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and comforting.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I am now.”

You had been spending more time in the Red Keep, adjusting to this new phase of your life. With your family, including Rhaenyra and your mother, growing closer, things had begun to settle. The tension between your family members had diminished, and there was a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

That morning, you found yourself sitting with Heleana, enjoying the company of her twin children as they played nearby. Their laughter filled the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to smile, feeling the warmth of family. Yet, beneath that smile, there was an ache—an uncomfortable pressure you couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t just physical; it was as though your body was reminding you of the strain you’d been carrying.

As the children ran around, you tried to hide your discomfort, taking slow, steady breaths to calm the mounting pain in your abdomen. You didn’t want to worry Heleana or anyone else, so you kept your focus on the children, pretending that everything was fine. But the truth was, the constant dull pain had become something you couldn’t ignore.

Heleana noticed your shift in demeanor, her sharp eyes catching the subtle change in your expression. She paused for a moment, looking at you with concern. “Are you alright?” she asked softly, her voice laced with care. “You look like you’re in pain.”

You tried to brush it off with a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine, just a little tired,” you replied, attempting to downplay it. “I think I just need a moment to rest.”

But Heleana wasn’t convinced. She stood up and walked over to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “If something is wrong, you know you can talk to me, right?” she said, her voice warm and understanding.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to confide in her and not wanting to burden anyone with your concerns. But then, the pain flared again, sharper this time, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I’ve been feeling… off,” you admitted quietly. “It’s like there’s something not right, and I don’t know how to explain it.”

Heleana’s face softened with empathy, and she knelt beside you, taking your hand. “You should speak to someone, perhaps a maester, to make sure everything is alright,” she suggested gently.

You nodded, your heart heavy with uncertainty. You had been so focused on rebuilding your life and finding happiness that you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge the possibility that something could be wrong.

“Thank you, Heleana,” you whispered, grateful for her support. “I’ll think about it.”

As you sat there, the laughter of the children faded into the background, replaced by the heavy thoughts running through your mind. Something inside you knew you couldn’t ignore this feeling any longer.

The pain intensified, each wave making it harder to focus on anything else. You clutched your stomach, unable to ignore the overwhelming sensation anymore. Looking at Heleana, you whispered, “Please, help me. I think it’s time… it’s time for the baby.”

Heleana’s eyes widened in concern, but without hesitation, she helped you up, supporting you as you staggered toward your room. She could sense the urgency, the change in your breathing, the way you were trying to hide your discomfort, but she knew you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Once inside your room, Heleana didn’t waste a second. She quickly stepped out, telling you she would get Jace and a maester immediately. The moment she left, you were left alone, walking back and forth in your room, trying to ease the growing pain with slow, deliberate movements. Each step, each breath, felt like a small battle.

Time seemed to stretch as the pain surged and receded, leaving you wondering how much longer you could bear it. You were no longer just anticipating the arrival of your child; it had arrived in the form of this unbearable, sharp reminder of what was coming.

Minutes later, Jace burst into the room, his face a mix of concern and urgency. His eyes scanned you quickly before he rushed over, his voice barely above a whisper. “Breathe, love. Please, sit down."

You could hear the panic in his voice, the way he was trying to stay composed for your sake, but it only made your heart race faster. He gently guided you toward the bed, helping you sit down, his hands steady yet trembling with concern. “Stay with me, just breathe,” he urged, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, his presence a comfort amidst the overwhelming pain.

The maester arrived soon after, and Jace’s face softened with relief as he stepped aside to let the healer do their work. The maester checked on you quickly, muttering words of reassurance as he confirmed that the time had come. “It’s happening,” he said, giving Jace a nod before he began preparing for the delivery.

Jace turned to you then, his eyes filled with love and worry. “You’re doing great, just keep breathing, alright?” He sat beside you, holding your hand, offering whatever comfort he could as the maester worked.

The room was filled with a tense silence, broken only by your labored breaths and the quiet, soothing words Jace whispered to you. The pain was unbearable, but his presence was the anchor you needed. His steady voice, his comforting touch—he was there, and that alone was enough to help you find the strength to keep going.

“You’re strong,” Jace said, his voice full of admiration. “You can do this. I’m right here with you.”

And in that moment, with his words and his love surrounding you, you knew you weren’t alone. The journey ahead would be painful, but with him by your side, you could face anything.

The sharp wave of contraction ripped through your body, and you couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from your throat. Your grip on Jace’s hand tightened, knuckles white as you clung to him like a lifeline. He was right beside you, whispering soothing words, but the pain was overwhelming, consuming every part of you.

Your mother, Alicent, and Rhaenyra were both there now, their presence adding a layer of comfort. They stood at your side, each offering soft words of encouragement, their hands brushing against your hair, wiping away the sweat that beaded on your forehead. The room was filled with a flurry of movement, the midwives and maester working efficiently, their voices calm and reassuring as they guided you through the process.

“It’s too much,” you gasped, shaking your head in desperation. “I can’t do this. It hurts… it hurts too much.”

Alicent leaned in, her voice steady and filled with a mother’s unwavering strength. “You are stronger than you think. You can do this. Just one more push, my darling.”

Rhaenyra echoed her, a determined look in her eyes. “You’ve come so far. You’re almost there. We’re all here with you.”

Jace pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice soft but firm. “I believe in you. You’re doing so well. Just one more time, love. For our son.”

Their words were a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of your despair. Drawing in a shaky breath, you gathered every ounce of strength left in your body. With a guttural cry, you pushed, the pain reaching its crescendo as you gave one final effort.

The room seemed to still for a heartbeat, and then, the sound of a baby’s cry filled the air. Relief washed over you like a tidal wave as the midwives worked quickly, bringing your child into the world. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as they placed the squirming, crying baby into your arms.

“It’s a boy,” the maester announced, smiling as he stepped back.

Jace’s eyes were filled with awe as he looked down at the tiny bundle in your arms. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to touch the soft, silver hair on your son’s head. “He’s perfect,” Jace whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Just like his mother.”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your son, overwhelmed by a flood of love and relief. His cries softened as he nestled against you, his tiny fingers curling around your thumb. “Hello, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. “You’re finally here.”

Alicent and Rhaenyra looked on with tears in their eyes, sharing in the joy and relief that filled the room. “You did it,” Alicent said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You brought him into this world.”

Rhaenyra smiled, brushing a tear from her cheek. “He’s a true Targaryen. Strong and beautiful, just like his parents.”

Jace leaned in, pressing another kiss to your temple, his own tears falling freely now. “I love you,” he whispered. “Both of you. You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your family, the pain and fear melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace and joy. Your son was here, healthy and safe, and your heart swelled with a love that you knew would only grow with each passing day.

As you cradled your newborn son in your arms, a wave of relief washed over you. His tiny cries filled the room, a sweet sound that marked the culmination of your pain and struggle. Jace was at your side, his eyes shining with pride and love as he gazed down at his son. Alicent and Rhaenyra stood nearby, their expressions softened with joy.

But then, without warning, a sharp, familiar pain gripped your abdomen once more. You gasped, clutching at your stomach as the pain intensified. The room shifted from serene to alarmed in an instant, the midwives and maester springing back into action.

“It’s happening again,” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling with fear and exhaustion. “What’s going on?”

The maester stepped forward, his expression calm but urgent. “You’re carrying twins, Your Grace. We must act quickly. The second child is on their way.”

Jace’s grip on your hand tightened, his face pale but resolute. “You’re strong,” he whispered, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of pain. “You can do this. I’m right here with you.”

Alicent knelt beside you, her hands trembling as she brushed the damp hair from your face. “You’ve already brought one beautiful child into this world. You can do it again. We’re all here with you.”

Rhaenyra leaned in, her voice soothing and filled with determination. “Focus on your breathing. We’ll get through this together."

Drawing on their words, you summoned what little strength you had left. The contractions came fast and hard, each one sapping your energy, but you refused to give up. The thought of your second child, waiting to take their first breath, fueled you to push through the pain

The room blurred around you as you bore down, your body trembling with the effort. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, each second a battle against the overwhelming exhaustion threatening to consume you. But with one final, agonizing push, the pressure released, and the room filled with the cries of your second child.

A sob of relief escaped your lips as the midwives carefully placed your newborn daughter into your arms. Her tiny face scrunched up as she wailed, her voice strong and fierce. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked down at her, her delicate features a mirror of her brother’s.

“It’s a girl,” the maester announced, a smile breaking through his composed demeanor. “Both children are healthy.”

Jace’s eyes welled with tears as he reached out to gently touch his daughter’s hand, her tiny fingers wrapping around his. “She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “Just like her brother. Just like you.”

Your heart swelled as you cradled both of your children, the weight of them grounding you in this moment of profound joy and love. Despite the pain, despite the fear, you had brought them both into the world, and they were safe in your arms.

Alicent pressed a kiss to your forehead, her tears mingling with yours. “You did it, my love. You brought two beautiful souls into this world.”

As Jace wrapped his arms around you, holding you and your children close, you felt a surge of love so powerful it took your breath away. This was your family, your heart. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that together, you could face anything.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @zaldritzosrose @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

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vaguely-concerned · 2 months ago

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huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #caterina dellamorte #illario #dragon age meta #*sighs and climbs back down into the dellamorte family feels and horror mines yet again right after breakfast* it's a living #when you're barely even getting to play the game because your brain is a boiling cauldron of feelings that need to be processed #between every time you can take anything new in fhsakjhfsda #head in hands. we do need to get him out of there is the thing. I think we kind of do need to do that. in some kind of way #(I do feel that the only thing that might drive him more than the fear of disappointing caterina is the fear of losing rook again #when romanced. so you know. there's every reason to hope. he has a solid support network of godkilling maniacs now #and some spaces he can go to to like. think and experience things that aren't all in her shadow. I think he'll get there)#lucanis greatest fears: 4) harding's cooking #3/2 shared place): bellara's fun little 'oooh but what if *worst thing that could ever happen to you illario fakeout betrayal and death #scenario* would that be fucked up or WHAT. (god.) 3/2 shared place) truly disappointing caterina and telling her no. 1) tfw no rook :'(

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grimestime27 · 11 days ago

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Let Me Take Care Of You

Let Me Take Care of You

Pairing: Daryl x reader

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: fluff, p in v sex, smut

A/N: I’ve received requests and will get them finished ASAP as I’m getting ready to have some vacation time from work.

It had been a long, exhausting day as Daryl waited for the gates to Alexandria to open. He was ready to be home, he was ready to see you. Every second he spent away from you felt like years. It was easier for him to go on supply runs before you got together. Now, he hardly wanted to leave your side. Daryl’s cross bow as across his back, familiar faces meeting his. He gave them small nods. They weren’t you. He wanted you.

Carol greeted him, walking along side him. “Hey, you doing okay?”

“Fine.”, Daryl sighed, giving an answer to his best friend. “Where’s Y/N?”

“At home. Waiting for you.”, Carol smirked, playfully elbowing the archer.

He smirked lightly, picking up his pace. Carol thought it was cute that he had finally gave into his feelings for you. She’d seen it a long time ago—beginning at the prison. Everyone had gotten separated once the prison fell. Somehow you and Daryl ended up together and he did everything in his power to protect you until you all reunited with your group at Terminus.

“See ya later?”, Carol continued to tease Daryl.

“Yeah.”

Daryl finally reached the steps of the home you both shared. He trotted up the steps, ready to knock on the door when he was met with you opening the door. A huge smile came across your face, butterflies filling your stomach, and you felt your cheeks heat up. Daryl immediately tossed his crossbow down and took you in an embrace.

“Y’ okay baby doll?”

“More than okay now that you’re back safe and sound.”, you smiled as you pulled back slightly to view his face, brushing his hair out of his face lightly.

He flinched slightly under your touch, making your heart sink. Something happened to Daryl but he hadn’t talked much about his past other than the fact he and his older brother, Merle had a hard upbringing. It was far from the perfect life most children had—or at least Daryl had envisioned them having when he was a child. Daryl didn’t mean to flinch, he just wasn’t used to being touched so gently.

“M’ sorry.”, he sighed, apologizing quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Daryl could see his reaction had clearly hurt your feelings. The old him may have not gave a rat’s ass whose feelings he hurt but this was you. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you.

“Come inside, honey.”, you smiled sadly as you grabbed his hand.

Your accent was just as southern and sweet like honey. It was one of the many qualities he loved about you. He picked up his crossbow with his free hand, following you inside. He laid his crossbow where it could be easily accessed if need be.

“Let’s go upstairs.”, you breathed easily.

The master bedroom and bathroom were located upstairs. Alexandria had been a breath of fresh air since you all had arrived. The recruitment process might have been a little stressful but it had paid off. Daryl was helping Aaron recruit new members for Alexandria, cutting another dent in his time with you.

Ever since arriving at Alexandria, Daryl had not relaxed. He had not let his guard down and he had not taken in the simple pleasures that everyone else had such as running water, electricity, food, and rest.

“What’re we doin’?”

“You’ll see.”

Daryl had no clue what was in store for him. The stairs lightly creaked underneath your all’s feet as you made your way to the top. Daryl never liked being in the dark about anything, he liked to know what was about to happen whether it was good or bad. You looked back at him as you opened the door to the master bedroom. Daryl smirked lightly, thinking he knew what was about to happen.

To his surprise, you passed the bedroom and opened the door to the master bathroom. He continued to follow you inside almost like a lost puppy.

“Close the door.”, you breathed.

Daryl was confused. “Uh—okay.”

He did as you asked.

“Now, take off your clothes Daryl Dixon.”

He wore a bewildered expression. “What?”

“Take your clothes off.”, you repeated, voice steady and soft.

Daryl tried to move past the surprise of it all, beginning to unbutton his shirt. Daryl wasn’t used to you being dominant in the relationship. He was more used to you being submissive (well, in the bedroom that is—). His held his green eyes on you. Your eyes switched from his down to his fingers, carefully unbutton each button. A smile creeped up on your face, cheeks beginning to heat up as you imagined what he could do with those fingers.

Daryl noticed, chuckling lightly to himself. His shirt opened, revealing his very broad chest and shoulders. You couldn’t help but notice, taking the sight in. Daryl slid his shirt off, tossing it on the ground before reaching for his belt. He made quick work of undoing his belt, unbuttoning his black jeans, and stepping out of them half-hazardly. He stepped closer to you, treading lightly.

His fingers trailed the hem of your shirt, beginning to pull it up. Your brain immediately wondered if you should let him do this or make him wait, something he wasn’t used to doing. He watched you, waiting for any objection but there wasn’t any. Closing your eyes and letting out a soft sigh, you allowed him to pull your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor with his.

This left you only in your bra as he immediately went for your jeans, lips crashing into yours. Nothing felt better than this. When you were with Daryl, you felt safe. You felt secure in this unsure, ever changing world. He didn’t miss a beat, undoing your jeans and helping you out of them all while keeping lip contact.

“Get in the fucking shower.”, you breathed, breaking the kiss.

“Don’ hav’ta tell me twice.”, he opened the glass shower door before turning the hot water on.

Somehow, between all the rough kisses and nibbles at your neck, you both managed to get completely naked. Without saying anything more, Daryl pulled you inside the shower. Hot water rushed over your tired, aching bodies. Daryl was used to living a hard life. Hell, sometimes as a child his parents forgot to pay the power bill or water bill, leaving Merle and Daryl to figure out how to keep themselves clean and warm. That’s why he wasn’t used to all these “luxuries”.

As soon as you felt the cold shower wall against your back, Daryl pushing you against, you moaned into his mouth and he knew he was breaking down the wall. He knew you loved him, he knew you wanted him.

“Daryl.”, you breathed, breaking the kiss but your lips were still touching.

“Yeah, baby girl?”

You swallowed hard, trying to form words. He could tell you were struggling to gather your thoughts.

“Tell me, baby girl.”

His nickname for you made your stomach twist up like a pretzel. He knew just how to get you going.

“Take me.”

Daryl’s lips curved into a smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You smiled back as he spread your thighs, positioning himself between you. Gulping lightly, you could feel his hard cock brushing against your thigh, eager to enter you. Some women may have been repulsed by Daryl and his ruggedness, but you found it very attractive. A man who could fend for himself but protect what he loves at any cost.

The room was thick with steam that poured from the shower. You pulse quipped and your mouth was dry. You could feel his cock digging into you, making your desire drive you further.

“Ready?”, he asked.

Consent was always sexy and it was sweet. He asked you every time before you all had sex. You nodded, preparing yourself for what was to come next. It had been a few weeks since you all had found the time to have sex. Daryl was bursting at the seams, ready to show you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him. Sex with you was different than it had ever been with anyone else.

“Tell me if it hurts, baby girl.”

“I—will.:”, you assured him, croaking lightly.

He thought it was cute how wound up you got. It made him want you even more. If that was even possible. He picked up your thighs, bringing them to circle around his waist. Your all’s shower was long forgotten for the time being, something better in place of it. Daryl wasted no time in slipping inside of you, his thick cock filing you and splitting you open, causing you to gasp. He began working soft strokes into you. If he wasn’t holding you, you were sure your legs would have given out by now.

Daryl looked up at you to make sure everything was alright.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Fi—fine, feels fine babe.”, you assured him, your nails digging into his skin.

This amplified his pleasure, a moan escaping him as he threw his head back, hair soaked. Dryness took over your mouth, noticing all of his tattoos in plain view. It was another thing that made him incredibly sexy.

“Fuck—you feel good, baby girl.”

Daryl smirked as he sank his fingertips into your thighs, knowing he was going to leave marks. But you loved it—secretly, you loved anything he did. You felt your lower half tense, Daryl continuing to help you towards your orgasm. You could feel every inch, vein, and tweak of his cock—all helping to add to your sensations and sensitivity. Daryl somehow managed to put his lips back to yours, your moans going straight down his throat. He wanted you so badly, he wanted to swallow every little sound or hiccup you made.

“Shit—Daryl—,”, you began moaning, breaking contact abruptly.

“Hmmm?”, he teased through a hum. “Gonna cum already?”

Your breathing became hitched, voice breaking through shallow breaths. “Ye—yes. Fuck, can I cum?”

Daryl was surprise you asked permission. There was certain times in the bedroom when that came into play.

“You don’ hav’ta ask permission from me, baby girl.”, he breathed. “Not this time.”

“Daryl.”, you whined through a moan nto his mouth.

“Hm?”

“Gonna—cum—now.”

“ ’S okay baby girl, cum for me.”, he reassured you, taking a hand and brushing it through your soaked hair.

He felt you tighten around him immediately, incoherent babbling coming out of your mouth. You juices spilled all over his cock, causing him to moan in response. Daryl didn’t immediately follow, in fact his cock felt even harder than before.

“Fuck your cunt is is gripping me so tight.”, he grunted, breaking the kiss.

Your body was still shaking, reeling from your orgasm and Daryl seized this opportunity to start fucking you faster. His hands pulled you off his cock only to slam you back down on it, moving your body like it was nothing. Your body couldn’t stop shaking, your stomach twisting and aching but you knew you had more to give him. Your hands gripped his neck tighter, trying to hold onto his fast moving body. He was fucking you so fast and so hard that you didn’t even had time to catch your breath. No need to when he would just take it again anyways.

You felt his cock twitch and you both knew he would cum soon and you couldn’t wait for him to fill you full. Even if you knew the risks associated with it. All that filled your ears was moans worthy of the big screen and whines coming from you. Daryl’s moans and grunts added to the music you both were creating. The steam from the bathroom wasn’t helping you think straight. You were beginning to feel dizzy and disoriented. All you knew in the moment was that you needed his cum immediately.

"Can I cum in ya?’

“Yes.”, you breathed.

“Ya sure?”

“Very sure.”

“You want the possibility of carrying’ my baby, don’t ya?”

This made your stomach twist further, you nodding.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”, he grunted.

And within a second, you felt his warm cum deep inside of your cunt. His hips stuttered as he let out a long groan, almost matching the pace he was using to spill inside of you. It was euphoric—more than either of you could have ever hoped or dreamed for. You all stayed there, catching your breath and he left himself inside you, making sure every last drop got inside.

After you both began smiling and laughing, he asked if he could pull out. Much to your dismay, you agreed. But all you could do was smile at him. It felt like you were a giddy school girl.

“Now, we’re gonna shower.”, you smirked up at him.

“We are?”, he smiled back.

“Starting with me lathering your hair. It needs a deep washing considering all the walkers you’ve killed lately and how hot it’s been.”

“Sayin’ I’m dirty?”, he teased.

Grabbing the shampoo bottle and squirting it on your hands before taking them through his hair, you began laughing. “Only in the best way. You’re going to let me take care of you, Daryl Dixon. Whether you like it or not.”

“Just takes some gettin’ used to.”, he smirked. “But after this, it’s my turn."

“Didn’t you just take care of me?”

“I did but I’m gonna do it again.”, he responded, trying to relax into your touch.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #rick grimes #daryl twd #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl

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thef1diary · 9 months ago

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Baby Jr | Four

— Meticulous Avoidance

Series Masterlist

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

The sun slants through the blinds, casting elongated shadows across the room. You sit on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you stare at the tenth pregnancy test you've taken, still in disbelief.

"No," you murmur as two pink lines stare back at you, confirming what you've been fearing for the past couple days.

You're pregnant.

Carlos's face flashes through your mind, his smile, his touch, the intensity of those nights spent together. It was supposed to be casual, fun, a temporary escape from the reality of the world around you.

While trying to escape reality, you've been hit in the face by it.

You and Carlos were reckless, that was a given, but now you also had to face the consequences of those moments shared.

You attempt to push back the wave of panic threatening to engulf you. Your vision blurs as your eyes fill with tears and your hands tremble, still holding on to the test.

How could this happen? How could you let it happen? What are people going to say? What is he going to say?

Your mind races, trying to grasp onto some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your thoughts. But deep down, you know there's no escaping the truth.

You're carrying Carlos Sainz's child, and everything is about to change.

Rising from the bed, your movements are mechanical, as if you're navigating through a foggy haze.

The room feels suffocating, the walls closing in on you with each passing second. You need air, space, a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts. With trembling steps, you make your way to the window, dropping the pregnancy test on the floor. You push the window open to let in a rush of cool morning air but even the fresh breeze fails to dispel the suffocating sense of unease that grips you.

Outside, the world carries on, oblivious to the turmoil raging within you. Birds chirp in the distance, cars hum along the street below, and somewhere in the distance, the low murmur of voices drifts through the air.

But in this moment, none of it matters. All you can focus on is the life growing inside you, a tiny, fragile being whose existence is now irrevocably intertwined with yours.

You lean against the windowsill, your gaze fixed on the horizon, lost in a maze of swirling thoughts and emotions. Despite how much you try, you cannot stop thinking about the new situation you've found yourself in.

How will you face Carlos? How will you tell him the news? And more importantly, what will his reaction be? The questions echo in your mind, unanswered and unsettling.

But for now, there's only one thing you can do: keep it to yourself. You remind yourself that the next race is two weeks later, offering a temporary reprieve, a brief respite from the inevitable confrontation that looms on the horizon.

As you draw in a steadying breath, you steel yourself for the challenges that lie ahead. Tears still continue to flow from your eyes, but as you peer down at your stomach, you can't help but feel a tinge of hope in between the fear of your future.

—

As the days pass, the weight of your secret presses down on you like a lead blanket. Every time you meet someone whether it's a stranger or a close friend, you feel the guilt internally shaming you just for keeping the secret to yourself.

You try to bury yourself in work, throwing yourself into your duties as a media personnel with a newfound fervor. You weren't needed at the track since there weren't any races, but you did need to step up the team's media presence and engage with the fans during the brief break.

Although you weren't required to see Carlos in person, your work required you to view the images and videos in which he participated in along with his teammate. You wanted to bury your face in your hands as you watched the videos again because you could hear his laugh and voice.

From considering Carlos as a distraction, now you needed a distraction from him and unfortunately your job did not allow that.

It didn't help that he would still text you, because after all you were still friends before it became physical. He sent you photos of the sunset from whichever country he decided to fly to because you once told him that you loved sunsets.

He was unaware of the turmoil of stress you experienced every time a notification popped up on your phone with his name. Your first thought was that he found out, even though no one else knew the secret but you.

You couldn't ignore his messages or else he would know that something was up, and that was the last thing you wanted him to know especially during the break.

No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, thoughts of Carlos and the impending conversation linger at the edges of your mind, a constant, nagging presence.

Finally, the week of the next race arrives, and with it, the inevitable reunion with Carlos. You stand in the bustling paddock, surrounded by the frenetic energy of the Formula One world. The air is thick with the smell of rubber and gasoline, the sound of engines roaring in the distance while the fans cheered every time they spotted a driver.

As you continue walking through the paddock, you notice a crowd of reporters and fans circling a couple drivers. You couldn't see their faces until you craned your neck, and as soon as you did, you wish you hadn't.

You caught a sight of Carlos in the distance standing alongside Lando which in itself causes an uproar as their friendship is infamous. However, in that moment, you couldn't care less about Lando, instead your eyes were drawn towards Carlos, as always.

He looks every inch the confident, charismatic driver you've come to know, his easy smile and charm putting those around him in a trance.

For a moment, you consider approaching him, but then you wonder what you'd say. It's not like you could tell him the truth in front of the crowd and there was no other topic you could think of.

Instinctively, your palm rests over your womb, and once you realize your actions, you quickly avert your gaze from him, turning away before he can spot you.

You slip into the shadows, dodging behind equipment crates and team trailers as you make your way through the paddock. Every instinct screams at you to run, to hide, to avoid the inevitable confrontation that awaits. And so you do, weaving through the crowds with a practiced ease, your heart pounding in your chest.

But no matter how hard you try to escape, you can't shake the feeling that Carlos is watching you, his eyes boring into your back with an intensity that sends a chill down your spine. You quicken your pace, ducking around a corner and into the relative safety of the media center, where you hope to find refuge from the storm brewing outside.

The noise from outside disperses away which you were thankful for but it only magnified your own thoughts. Fortunately, you spotted Ava but as you walked towards her, you noticed that she was speaking to Charles.

You gave her a nod in acknowledgement when she spotted you and turned to sit at one of the further tables, taking a moment to sigh. She notices the tension in your demeanor, the way your eyes dart nervously around the room, and she can't help but raise her eyebrows in concern.

You offer a tight-lipped smile, attempting to brush off her concern, but Ava isn't one to be easily dissuaded.

She pats Charles' arm and smiles at him before wrapping up the conversation she was having with him. You watched from afar, noticing the easy camaraderie between them, a hint of something more lingering in the air. Perhaps you were just seeing things and overthinking it because you were involved with Carlos.

You discarded that thought as you saw Ava approached you, her gaze filled with genuine concern.

"Hey, everything alright?" she asked, her palm resting on top of your hand.

You nod, "yeah, just a bit stressed with work." You hoped that she wouldn't press further on the matter since she also knew about those stressful days at work, having worked in the same field as you.

But, she furrowed her eyebrows, "is it just work, or is something else bothering you?"

Her gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and curiosity. The weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, each breath feeling more constricted than the last. You toyed with the idea of confiding in her, of sharing the truth that had been gnawing at you for weeks. But the fear of her reaction, of the potential consequences, held you back.

Ava reached out and squeezed your hand, her touch a silent gesture of support. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and understanding.

You nodded, your throat tight with unspoken words. How could you burden her with such a heavy secret? What if she reacted poorly, or worse, felt betrayed by your silence?

But as you looked into Ava's eyes, seeing the genuine concern and compassion reflected there, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe she would understand. Maybe she would offer the support and guidance you so desperately needed.

The silence stretched between you, each moment filled with the weight of unspoken truths. Finally, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. "There's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's not easy, but I trust you, Ava. And I need you to know."

You had to tell her the whole story, start from the beginning from the night Carlos stopped by your hotel. You reassured your thoughts with a nod, racking your mind for the best way to explain it all.

As you gathered the courage to confide in Ava, Carlos' voice cut through the air, interrupting your moment of vulnerability by calling your name. You turn to see him approaching you, stopping once he reaches the table.

"Hey, can I borrow you for a moment?" he asked, eyes flickering between you and Ava.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ava who gave you a reassuring smile. "I'll catch up with you later, yeah?"

You nod at her before looking at Carlos and standing up. He motioned for you to follow him, down the halls and away from prying eyes. As you walked with him, your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions — frustration at the interruption, anxiety over why Carlos wanted to see you, and a lingering sense of guilt for keeping secrets from both him and Ava.

When you reached the secluded corner, Carlos turned to face you, his gaze ever so watchful. He had a smirk playing on his lips and for a brief moment it reminded you of the time you spent together before finding out life changing news.

You rolled your eyes once you saw how quickly his expression changed, now only a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. Yet, you still asked, "why did you need to 'borrow' me?"

Carlos leaned closer, resting his palm against the wall like he's done before, his smirk widening into a playful grin. "Well, I just wanted to see you," he said, his tone laced with amusement.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his unexpected admission. "Just to see me?" you repeated, a hint of skepticism in your tone.

He shrugged and stated, "it's been two weeks since I saw you last."

A rush of conflicting emotions washed over you at his words — relief that he didn't suspect anything, guilt from earlier, and a flicker of something else, something you couldn't put a finger to.

His fingers trailed down the length of your arm, settling on your waist. With his proximity, a sudden wave of nausea washed over you. The scent of his cologne, once familiar and comforting, now felt overwhelming, almost suffocating.

"Carlos, what cologne are you wearing?" you blurted out, unable to mask the discomfort in your voice.

Carlos pulled back slightly, his brows furrowing in concern. "It's the same one I always use," he replied, his tone tinged with confusion. "The one you always liked."

You blinked, trying to push past the nausea and focus on his words. "But it smells...different," you managed to say, your stomach churning with unease.

Carlos' expression softened, his concern deepening as he stepped back but still reached out to steady you. "Are you okay?"

You took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of nausea threatening to overwhelm you. "I think I just need some fresh air," you murmur, your voice shaky.

Without waiting for a response, you hurried away from Carlos, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air of the hallway like a heavy cloud. You found it odd, as it was never this overpowered to the point where you could smell it from afar, instead it was fairly faint, only smelling it when you were snuggled up next to him in bed.

As you step outside into the cool breeze, you take a moment to collect yourself, the nausea gradually subsiding with each intake of breath.

The fresh air also gave you a sense of clarity, able to think about the situation without it becoming too much to bear.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave — you almost went right back into his arms as if the pregnancy never existed. You would've willingly gone back to your old ways, spending time with him simply because he smiled at you and wanted to see you.

The temptation to bury the truth was strong, to pretend as if nothing changed between you two. But it was wrong, you can't possibly deceive him like that. He would find out one way or another, especially as the months go by and your pregnancy can no longer be hidden.

You softly press your hand against your stomach, a sad smile growing on your face. You wouldn't have to tell him if you didn't plan on keeping the child, but having to live normally again, as if nothing happened, would eat you alive.

Plus, you didn't even think about that option thoroughly, already feeling a blossoming connection to the little life growing in your womb.

You shake your head, discarding such vile thoughts. With a heavy heart, you made a decision to avoid Carlos until you built up the courage to tell him the truth. It wouldn't be easy to tell him right away, because this news could shatter the state of your relationship with him, whether it's friendship or more.

As you returned inside the paddock, you spotted Ava who was rushing around, holding a large stack of items you couldn't see from afar. Watching her hurried movements, you found yourself lost in deep thought again, this time, strategizing how to share the news with her, how to confide in her. The weight of the secret you carried felt unbearable now that you were back at work, and the thought of continuing to hide it from Ava was driving you to the brink of madness.

You consciously straighten your posture, a silent reminder to yourself that you were in a professional setting. The familiar sights and sounds of the workplace surrounded you, pulling you back to reality. Here, amidst the hustle and bustle of the paddock, there was no room for distractions from your personal life. Each moment was precious, each task demanding your full attention and focus. So, with a determined resolve, you pushed aside the turmoil of your personal struggles, channeling your energy into the demands of your professional responsibilities.

As the day wore on, you found yourself avoiding any encounters with Carlos as decided, darting down different corridors and finding excuses to linger in secluded corners whenever you caught a glimpse of him in the distance. It wasn't necessarily hard to avoid him, which made you realize that your job didn't entail being around him as much as he made it out to be. However, it did send a pang of hurt through you every time you heard his laughter or his name uttered by other people.

With each passing hour, you grew more resolved in your decision to keep your distance until you found courage to tell him the truth, after telling Ava.

Speaking of, your phone pinged with a text from her. 'I'm coming over after work, be ready to tell me everything'

Fortunately, the first race after the break was in your home city, which meant that you could show Ava the pregnancy tests you've taken.

The warmth of her friendship offered a glimmer of solace amidst the chaos of the day, and even the past couple weeks, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at the prospect of confiding in her about everything that had been weighing down on you.

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#babyjr fic #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz angst #f1 imagines #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 smut #thef1diary fic #fanfic

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aelenavelaryon · 1 year ago

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Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Reader

Summary: Daemon finally finds love

Aella Targaryen was nothing like the rest of her family. She couldn't be. Many would often said she was a sweet girl whose only mistake was to have Valyrian blood cursing through her veins. House Targaryen had been on the Iron Throne for over a hundred years, she could remember the throne, it was rather beautiful she would admit. But, House Targaryen was a cursed lineage. Aella thought it was because they were all related. Brothers married sisters, uncles married nieces, cousins married cousins.

When Aella was brought to court she was nothing but a babe. Only one perhaps two moons old. Daughter of Saera Targaryen and her brother Rhaegar Targaryen. Rhaegar and Saera had both been wild and untamable. The two ran away after Saera escaped Old Town and they were never seen again until now. Aella Targaryen was born in the year 105. Rhaegar brought his daughter to court, to present among the realm. Saera had died in her birthing chamber. Viserys, who had lost his wife a nearly two years prior welcomed them both. Aella grew up beside Alicent’s children and Rhaenyra's children.

Aella although growing up with her cousins she preferred to be alone, sitting in the gardens or her room and reading a history book. Her father wondered where she had gotten all of that, she was not like her mother or him. But, there were things he did like singing, poems and song writing much like his daughter. Aella had the basic training, in case she had to protect herself but the young girl no matter the circumstances could never and would never bring herself to hurt anyone. It wasn't in her blood no matter how much her father tried. But Rhaegar would protect his daughter no matter the cost. She rode Meraxes, queen Rhaenys dragon, the princess died that day but her dragon lived.

As the years passed, Aella Targaryen grew into a beautiful maiden. "The Realm's Angel" or "The Realm's Desire" surpassing her cousin Rhaenyra in beauty and everything else. Aella had reached her ten and five name day and was yet to be unmarried. Her father was the reason for that, although he was no king he saw that no one was fit to marry his only child. No one would ever be good enough. Alicent thought it would be a good idea to marry her to Aegon or Aemond if she wished. Rhaenyra thought she would be a great match for Jacaerys or Lucerys. Rhaegar Targaryen refused, once again. But, a few moons later he passed from a swollen belly, leaving his only child at the mercy of her family.

Aella didn't know who to choose as her family had given her the choice to marry who she wanted between the four boys. She was dutiful, whoever her uncle had chosen she would have married but she did not want to disappoint anyone by choosing wrong. The council knew that Aella marrying either of her nephews was a tragedy waiting to happen, so the young girl offered a marriage between another house but Rhaenyra, Alicent and the king denied her. Daemon who had recently lost his wife asked her to marry him, to unite themselves and protect each other. Aella was young, only fifteen summers old what did she know about love. She knew more about duty than love.

So, to stop any family issues or more drama she agreed and secretly married Daemon, consummating their marriage, now it could not be broken. The news reached King's Landing the morning after, creating chaos in the court. The king was fragile in health so he did nothing, besides they were married and they had consummated there was no breaking anything. Rhaenyra stayed in King's Landing, while Daemon, his wife and two daughters remained in Dragonstone. Nearly a year after their wedding Baelon Targaryen and Rhaegar Targaryen were born. Strong boys. On their second named day, their sisters Rhaella and Visenya had been born. When the boys were five, their sisters three Aemma and Viserys were born.

Baela and Rhaena quickly accepted Aella as she had this motherly warmth the girls loved and she had glady taken the role as their mother, not that she would try to replace the girls mother but she did her best to love and care for them as she did for her own children. Aella with Daemon's approval let the girls ride their dragons to Driftmark to visit their grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were grateful that the young girl allowed them to visit their mother's family as much and as often as they could. The six children had been kept a secret through out the years. Aella was near her one and twenty name day. As a result, the king had invited her and her family to celebrate as a family.

Her arrival had been expected, Aegon was now married to Helaena and had two children, twins. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aemond was unmarried but as far as she knew he was bethroted to a Baratheon girl. Jacaerys was to marry soon but his mother and father were looking for a suitable match. When she arrived, Daemon and the girls were waiting as her and the children had sailed there due to the young kids. Rhaenys and Corlys who were there watched their granddaughters run to their new mother. They saw the love the two girls had for her. King Viserys recovered and went back to being the peaceful king he was. He waited with his family as he watched Daemon help his wife.

She had turned into a beautiful woman, everyone could agree. She seemed happy with Daemon. And she was, he treated her good and with respect. "My king, my queen" she greeted with a nod. "Princess Rhaenyra, Laenor" she said with a smile. She greeted everyone. "Now, may we present our children?" she asked and everyone turned to her. They were surprised. The king nodded and Daemon signaled the maids to bring them. "Baelon and Rhaegar, our oldest. Visenya and Rhaella out second oldest. Viserys and Aemma our youngest" Daemon introduced as the four oldest made their bows to the king and queen. The youngest were only one.

"May I?" the king asked as he took Aemma, she had her eyes. Rhaenys took Viserys. "Baelon looks like our father, and Rhaegar looks like Aemon" Rhaenys nodded in agreement. Everyone cooed over the Aella'a children and all she did was smile. During the feast for her nameday, Daemon and his wife could see the tension between Alicent and Rhaenyra. "I would like to propose an alliance between our families" Aella began. She had spoken with Corlys and Rhaenys, and of course her husband. "A bethrotal between Jacaerys and Baela. And Rhaena with prince Lucerys" she said with a smile. Rhaenyra smiled. "I think that is a great idea" Daemon held her hand and nodded. "In addition, if Aegon and Helaena agree Jaehaera could marry Baelon and Vinseya Jaehaerys" the table was quiet but Alicent smiled. "I think that is magnificent idea" the king nodded in agreement. "Our house will be united" she smiled happy with the outcome.

Aella Targaryen was a woman many remembered, she had given her family peace but that peace nearly broke when Otto Hightower deemed her dangerous, sending for someone to kill the princess. The princess perished on top of her dragon as a scorpion hit the beast right in the neck, killing it instantly. She received the same fate as queen Rhaenys. The lady didn't survive the fall. Daemon Targaryen never remarried but once he found out who killed her, the Hightowers, more importantly Otto, he was killed soon after. Alicent was pardoned as she didn't know anything. Rhaenyra was crown queen and the princess match's were honored as Baela married Jacaerys, Rhaena Lucerys, and once older Baelon and Visenya married Aegon's children.

The Sweet Summer Child died but her memory remained throughout the years. Aella Targaryen iii married her brother Rhaegar, giving him the heirs he needed. House Targaryen didn't end with Daenerys Targaryen, it went on. It prospered. From Aella Targaryen the first, came the prince that was promised and the realm lived in peace.

#daemon targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #harwin strong x reader #alicent hightower x reader #daemon targaryen #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #rhaegar targaryen

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rxzennia · 7 months ago

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don't you worry child

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 so like i lied and now here’s something not on my wip list. remember the theme park scene with three aventurines? this is loosely based on that. young kakavasha calls you mister like twice but that’s cause you’re looming tall. i wish i could yap about more exploring the map, but it’s already way too long :( would’ve speedran this fic but i was trying to beat divergent v (spoiler alert, i’m still trying)

“for in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.”

when aventurine showed you the dream bubble made of his memories, he wasn’t expecting to bare his inner child to you. he thought it’d be some of his earlier days at the ipc, some of his conquests and schemes, or maybe some of his glorious wins at the casino, not what he has buried for so long – and definitely not something he’s tried so hard to deny for so long. sure, he will tell you eventually, but not now. not yet, not when he’s barely ready.

and yet here you are, face to face with a child whose height barely reaches your hips. alone. aventurine said he’d be here with you, but where the hell is he?

you agreed to give your boyfriend’s(?) dream bubble a try, but where are you?

no one’s confessed but there are already rumors in the office so like tentatively dating, you suppose

and who is this small human in front of you?

you adjust your scarf, pulling it a little higher as you stare at the boy

he stares back at you

you try to not glare at him, but for all you know, you might still be glaring anyway

a few minutes pass, and the child blinks at you

he lifts one hand up, look at his feet then back at you, then he tiptoes

"you’re so tall, mister!"

you look around for anyone else. there’s no one else.

"me?" you point at yourself

you’re not good with kids, you don’t know if you should bother engaging him, but hey, he’s just a kid

no reason to ignore him or tell him to leave you alone

if anything, him being all the way out here in the unregulated areas of the theme park means you should do something about it

maybe you should bring him back to the main area?

"yes, you, mister!" the child nods enthusiastically. "woah, you’re so big! can you come down a little?"

first off, that’s what she said. second, and more importantly, how is he not remotely intimidated by your presence? you’re a pretty towering figure even by your own standards, and you don’t exactly have a friendly face, so the fact that a kid of all people started talking to you…

but the more you look at him, the more you feel a sense of deja vu. his face reminds you of someone you know, but his demeanor is, like, the furthest thing away from that person.

you can’t really say no to him, so you crouch down slowly

you don’t know how to interact with him, but you can at least satisfy his curiosity

"like this?" you’re now a head and a half taller than him. somehow, he takes this as a sign to approach

"child, has no one taught you to not talk to strangers?"

he gasps, like he suddenly remembered everything his parents warned him to not do, and he lowers his head like he’s just done something bad

"b-but you don’t seem like a bad person!" he bursts out, clumsily fiddling with his fingers. "you, you don’t give me the same feeling bad people do…"

"you should still be careful." you sigh as you adjust your scarf so it’s not touching the ground. "well, that aside. i’m down here now. can i help you?"

you watch as they kid slowly walk up to you, the curiosity shining in his eyes

you didn’t deny his claims! that means you’re a good person!

you’re mildly fascinated by the delicate little human

"i’m looking for someone," he says, finally looking up at you again, "t-then i have to go home… but i’m a little lost…"

is this what the world has come to? a kid asking you for help? in a dream bubble of all things?

though you did agree to experiencing the whole thing, so you should probably play along

"alright." you nod. "how should i call you?"

the child brightens up when you agree to help, and he almost reaches for your hands before he remembered personal space

"umm," he starts, keeping his hands awkwardly half-raised, "my name is kakavasha. mister, what about you?"

"kakavasha, hm?" you say, and you offer him one hand. you briefly wonder if it’s okay to tell dream kakavasha your name – this doesn’t seem like a typical dream bubble and all – but worst comes to worst, you’ll just force your way out.

so you tell the child your name, and you feel an overwhelming sense of adoration when he gingerly tries to repeat the syllables that you’ve just said.

dragon hoarding treasure moment intensifies

this kid is going to grow up into the man you know today? absolutely crazy

you’re kind of spacing out as you try to reconcile the kid in front of you with your boss

and while you’re doing that, you vaguely hear him repeating your name over and over again

"yes, that’s close enough." you finally interrupt his attempts to perfect his pronunciation. "where to, kakavasha?"

you stand up, and holy shit you’re so much taller than him

you briefly wonder if you can even hear him from all the way up there…

you can. you hear him crisp and clear.

maybe a little too clear

he’s loud.

"can i lead the way?" he asks, as if you’d say no to him (???)

he grabs onto your hand without any reservations and he starts to drag you off

what do you do??? no human interaction has prepared you for children??? because no kid wanted to approach you like ever???

you’re taken so much by surprise that you kind of just… froze up

cue him trying to tug you somewhere but failing miserably

he tries with both hands, but you still wouldn’t budge

super confused

he tries harder

still nothing??? just how big is this big person???

"oh, sorry." you snap back to your senses, and you let him pull you to wherever he wants

after a few turns, pinball machines, and an entire maze later, you find yourself at the central stage, where aventurine did his grandest closing act. you can still see the slash of nihility, but it doesn’t seem that anyone else can see it. perhaps a distortion in the dream bubble itself?

kakavasha takes you straight to the center, right at where the slashed monitor sits.

this whole thing hasn’t sat well with you since you touched that bloody dream bubble

where the fuck is aventurine?

who is kakavasha trying to find?

why would they be here?

unless…

you come to a stop when kakavasha stops to look around.

"oh, mister’s not here anymore." he whispers, lowering his eyes and fiddling with his fingers, "of course he wouldn’t be waiting…"

you slowly walk up by his side. "who exactly are we looking for? i don’t think you’ve ever told me."

"oh!" kakavasha gasps, "oh." he sputters a little, and he points to the stage. "i ran into a really cool mister earlier, and apparently he’s an actor!"

now you know who he’s talking about

is this dr edward’s experimental model or something? it’s rare to see memoria taking such form

not that you understand memoria

did aventurine give you this dream bubble knowing this will happen?

so when he said he’d be around, did he mean…?

did he literally regress for this???? what is this, the most fantasy novel to have ever fantasized?

or is he watching you like some guy watching a playthrough of a rpg?

or is this entire thing a bug? because you thought you still have a few years to go before aventurine would even think of letting you so far into his mind

you sigh, it’s all far too complicated for you to think about

you’ll focus on the kid for now

"i see," you reply. you didn’t want to give such a dry response, but what are you even supposed to say?

"but he seemed a little sad…" kakavasha mumbles, "i was hoping to catch him after his show…"

you’re slightly tempted to say "well you just missed him", but your brain is telling you to not do it

fine, you’ll hold your tongue :(

you watch as the child run around

you give him a few ten minutes before you crouch and open one arm for him

"come on," you sigh, "we’ll be here all day."

kakavasha looks at you, at your unreadable eyes, then your arm, then he tentatively slots himself into your side.

"woah, you’re so tall!" he exclaims when you slowly stand up with him on your shoulder. "i’m so high up! hehe!"

"i know, you’ve said that already," you deadpan

for how unfriendly you are, you sure aren’t hiding your worries well

your other arm has been hovering in front of the boy since the moment you stood up

and you’ve been careful with keeping your arm steady while you walk

"you see him?"

"no…" comes kakavasha’s downtrodden reply. "i don’t have much time left, papa and mama will be worried if i don’t go home soon…"

you play along, wandering around for kakavasha to look for his adult self. "that’s a shame."

he turns to stare at you

you sound like you don’t give too much of a shit

but he can see that you’re a gentle person at heart

why else would you follow him around, hold his hand, and now lift him up so he can get a better view?

and you’ve also made sure that no monsters could get him

he makes a sad noise when you end up right in front of the monitor

you wonder if he could also see the slash of nihility, or if he intuitively sensed something

he taps your shoulder, a series of quick, feather-light pokes

"down?" you ask, but you’re already lowering kakavasha back onto the ground.

he approaches the broken monitor. "mister… did his show go well?" he grasps your hand tightly. "it was a great success, wasn’t it?"

you feel for the child, you really do. but this is a dream, an illusion where your actions won’t make any actual difference. you want to wrap him up and coddle him, but in the end, that will change nothing.

"that it was." you nod, and you envelop his way smaller hands in your own. "the greatest success anyone’s ever seen."

somehow, your heart hurts when he breaks into a smile

"i’m glad." he says, like a weight’s been lifted off his chest

he probably already knows what happened

he knows himself best, after all

it’s not like you expect the child in front of you to be able to see through aventurine’s act

but they’re one in the same

that reckless abandon and affinity to games of chance didn’t come out of nowhere

you’re fairly certain he has his own guesses as to what happened to that "mister"

"do you know where the really cool mister is now?" kakavasha asks, looking at you with the most innocent gaze you’ve ever seen. "is he doing well?"

you can’t help but hear the subtext in his words, and you let out a soft snort.

it’s such a "him" thing to do.

"i don’t know," you answer honestly, for you really don’t know. "but what i am certain of… is that he is not doing too badly."

you take note of the portal that slowly appeared in the middle of the stage. a picture frame, a crack, and hands prying that crack right open.

you look into the distance, past the slash, past penacony, into the stars

"he’s alive," you say, "he’s living. will live."

you snap yourself out of your trance and look at the child next to you

"i’ll look after him, don’t worry."

you hope those words could be some sort of reassurance to him

"promise?" he offers you a pinky. "pinky promise?"

that’s cute

a quick image of others seeing you making a pinky promise flashes before your eyes

but what’s more important than the present?

"pinky promise." you hook your pinky with his. "i’ll make sure the really cool mister lives well."

kakavasha finally notices the portal, and he realizes it’s time to go home. he’s stayed out for too long, and now his family wants him home.

wherever home is to him, anyway

how do you even go home through a portal in a dream bubble

ever considered that maybe it’s better if you didn’t question everything

you let him drag you towards the portal

he doesn’t want to say goodbye to you quite yet

he’s pretty interested in this tall, scary person who isn’t actually scary at all

and he really wants to become friends with you (more like spend more time with you)

but he really needs to go, before his parents start to worry

you understand, of course you do, with how he’s fidgeting and glancing between you and the portal

and the face of a kid who’s just been told their playtime is over

so you nudge him a little, hoping that it’ll prompt him to go

are you surprised when it doesn’t work? not really? me neither

he refuses to let go of your hand

like legit just does not, even if both he and you know he has to

what can you do in such a scenario???

nothing’s prepared you for a silent tantrum

can you even call it a tantrum???

quick, come up with something!

alas, it doesn’t feel right to simply wave and part ways

"young kakavasha." you kneel down and unwrap your scarf from your neck. "take this with you," you say as you wrap the fabric around him, paying the strange feeling of exposing your scales no mind. you open your mouth to elaborate, but your words die in your throat.

kakavasha looks at you; he doesn't need to crane his neck for once, and he flinches from the foreign feeling of your fingers ghosting ever so slightly against his face. for how much you’ve taken care of him while he wandered around the theme park, you’re still only a really kind stranger. nowhere close enough to be giving each other gifts.

"it gets cold at night," you say, finally cracking a tiny smile for the child before you, your hand landing on top of his head gently. "you’ll at least be warmer this way."

you watch kakavasha’s bewildered expression as he touches his new scarf, feeling the smooth fabric and how oddly chunky it feels looped around him. it isn’t a bad feeling, not at all. it’s more like a big hug, the sort that scares away the monster under the bed and wards off nightmares.

"thank you…" he mumbles, still dazed and taken by the new addition to his limited wardrobe. he lifts his face to look at you, taking note of your iridescent scales and your soft gaze. he beams, a grin so bright that it ignites even your inhuman heart. "i’ll treasure this! it feels so nice… thank you so much!"

"mm. go on, now." you nod, and you nudge him towards the portal. "don’t keep your family waiting."

kakavasha blinks at you. "you’re not coming?" he asks, tilting his head to the side innocently.

"unfortunately." you beckon him forward and give him a small kiss on the top of his head before you stand up fully. "if fate shall have it, though… i suppose we will meet again."

"sis has always said that i’m blessed with fortune!" kakavasha almost jumps to grab onto you, but he just misses your shoulders by a hair. "see you next time!"

he spends a good minute waving at you before he turns around to leave. somehow… you feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. an inexplicable wave of melancholy washes over you like frigid waves on a windy day, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

you watch the child until he disappears into the frame, and you don’t look away for another minute.

"see you, kakavasha."

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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lynnie-ee · 1 month ago

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Hellooo, I checked your rules carefully before requesting, Could i have a oneshot for Jack howl? where his and fem reader's child (or maybe children) travelled back time where the child/childrens' parents time in NRC, and both of them wasn't in relationship as couple or haven't confessed yet.

╰┈➤"Days at Night Raven College were never normal, but not even the Prefect of Ramshackle could have imagined that on her way to her dorm, she'd find her future children. On her free day, on top of that."

╰►Female reader, oneshot, 2.1k words.

╰► Characters: Jack Howl.

╰►Note: Thanks for requesting! This has been sitting on my ask for two years already omg, I'm so sorry TT. I'll do my best to resume answering asks! Either way, I hope you like it, and sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes, english is not my first language :>

╰►Masterlist / (requests open)

⤿

‘My bed, my bed, my bed… All I need right now is my bed. And a warm drink. Oh, and my fluffy pajamas, and maybe a snack-'

After a long day at school, it was evident the magicless prefect was in need of a more deserved break. But it was Friday, and Grim joined Ace and Deuce at a game afternoon, so she could rest, for once. Oh, when was the last time she had a peaceful evening? It was nice not to be buried in work, at least for a second.

“Oh, mommy! We’ve been looking for you, mommy!”

What.

“I really should go back to sleeping eight hours, I’m even starting to hallucinate.” The prefect mumbled to herself, because why else would she hear the voice of a CHILD in the middle of school?

“Moooommy! Don’t ignore me, I know you can hear me!”

Again.

“Maybe a nap of five hours will fix this, yup.” She continued her path towards Ramshackle. If I don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist...

“Mother, please!”

“A nap and a balanced meal, that’s all I need…”

The young kid seemed to have grown tired of her failed attempts to call the prefect, so she was quick to hurry to where the Ramshackle student was, interrupting her walk. Instead of continuing to call her from afar, she abruptly stood in front of the tired girl.

“Mom!”

“A CHILD!”

The magicless student suddenly screamed, visibly perturbed at the fact that her ‘hallucinations’ actually belonged to a rather tall girl (who seemed to be at least eight years old), instead of some voices in the back of her tired mind.

“Oh my… I’m so sorry, are you lost?” She immediately swiped her demeanor, trying her best to shake away the fatigue. “What’s your name? Were you looking for your parents?” The prefect was quick to ask, crouching down to be at the same level as the kid.

“Ah, you finally noticed me! Please don’t get mad at me, it was Uncle Ace I swear!”

“Sorry?”

“He was bragging about how great he was Ancient Curses when he was at school, and then he wanted to make a demonstration but Uncle Deuce stepped in and interrupted him and then everything went BAM, and then WOOOSH and we woke up here, so we started looking for you and Papa and-“

“You lost me at Ancient Curses.” She mumbled while sighing, a bit startled by the child’s sudden outburst. “But you said something about Papa, right? Tell me what he looks like and we can look for him.”

“You know what he looks like! It’s not time for your jokes.” The child pouted, seemingly offended at the statement of the prefect, whose confused expression contrasted with the annoyance of the kid in front of her.

“…I don’t?”

“But you’re married to him.”

“…”

“I’M NOT MARRIED YET?”

“Yes, you are! You told me you got married after university!”

“I’m in high school, so how can you…?” She paused quickly, straightening her back to stand up as she grasped her words, her shocked expression only growing as she analyzed the situation. Then something clicked, and she anxiously crouched again to speak to the little girl. “Wait, wait, oh no…Who did you say were your uncles?”

“Well, there’s Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce, but also Uncle Epel, Uncle Sebek, and-“

"How old are they?"

"I don't know? 30...40... Something like that I guess."

(Y/n) sighed heavily, promptly closing her eyes, her hands softly pinching the bridge of her nose as the situation started to be clearer for her. After a few overblots, some kidnapping and other incidents, (Y/n) found hilarious how plausible the possibility was that the child before her was telling the truth. She was now living in a world with magic, after all.

"So, it's more likely that you...are my child?” The kid nodded. “From the future?" Another nod.

"Yeah, exactly! I've never been in the past so sorry if I said something confusing, Mama!"

Mama.

Oh, great seven.

"Don't worry, kiddo. It's alright, it's alright..." The prefect mumbled, mostly for herself rather than for the child, as she patted her head softly. "Now I suppose we have to look for someone who can help you to come back to...the future, yeah. Let's go." (Y/n) tried to recover herself as quickly as possible, ignoring the questions in her mind by extending her hand for the little girl to take it.

"Oh, but I have to come back to tell my siblings that I found you!"

"Please tell me I heard 'siblings' incorrectly."

"No, no, but you'll be happy to meet them! Let's go find them~."

'Breath in, breath out, everything's fine. The children won't come into your life right now. You have a lot of years ahead before, you can do this.' The prefect thought, reassuring herself that this brief taste of her future life would go away as soon as she found someone who would send her kids back where they belonged, hopefully without even getting to know who was the father of the kids, and the person she would probably marry.

The last thing she needed was information that would only make her feel awkward with one of her classmates. That, if her future husband even went to Night Raven College, perhaps it was someone she hadn’t even met yet-

“OOOH, YOU FOUND MAMA!”

“Oh, hi Mom. You look different.”

Wolf ears.

Fluffy tails.

Golden eyes.

“Great Seven…”

There was no denying it now.

She knew very well those features; it was painfully easy to reach a conclusion.

“Is��Is there a chance, that maybe, your dad’s name is Jack?”

Perhaps her crush on the Savanaclaw student wasn’t as hopeless as she thought.

⤿

Her children were quite interesting.

After giving a long explanation to Professor Crewel, he (begrudgingly) promised to come up with a solution to help her. After finishing their conversation, he left the alchemy classroom where she found him, willing to go looking for books to fix the situation, giving her time to observe more carefully the kids who waited on the chairs next to hers, as the teacher entrusted her not to leave the room while he looked for the solution.

As she sat in one of the classroom chairs with the youngest kid on her lap playing mindlessly with the buttons of her blazer, she could only watch as the other two children played with some books they found around, carefully noticing the little perks of their personalities.

The oldest was a tall one who had less noticeable beast features, which could be the reason why she didn’t figure out immediately the resemblance she had with the Savanaclaw first-year, as the similarities lay more on her strong personality and respectful demeanour rather than her looks.

Contrary to that, there was the second born, an energetic six-year-old boy, whose appearance seemed to be almost identical to his father. (Y/n) had never seen photos of Jack when he was a child, but even so, she could swear that would be exactly how he looked when he was young. Perhaps she could ask him about it later…?

However, with the youngest, it was a bit more difficult. She was a lovely five-year-old, with hair just like hers in both colour and form, but her face seemed different, and she couldn’t figure out if she looked more like Jack or herself, so perhaps it was a mix of them, she supposed.

“All of you are very cute.” The prefect commented mindlessly, not aware of the smile that adorned her expression, as she ran her fingers through the soft hair of the youngest child, who seemed happy at the contact, seemingly used to it. “It’s quite nice to know that I’ll have such a lovely family in the future…”

“It seems Professor Crewel wasn’t lying, after all.”

Who…?

“PAPA! You’re here too!”

“Jack?!” The Ramshackle student acknowledged the presence of the first-year with a little more intensity than she intended, as she turned around to see him standing close to the door. The Savanaclaw promptly closed the door before getting closer to them, as the youngest child jumped out of her lap to run towards him.

“Prefect.” The beastman greeted with his usual stern voice, unaltered at the two youngest children that quickly climbed to his arms, carrying them as if he was used to it, as both children bombarded him with greetings and questions.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in club practice.”

“I was supposed to be there, yeah. But Professor Crewel informed me about the…situation. So, I’m here to take responsibility and help him to find a solution.”

“…Responsibility?”

“For my kids. Future. Future kids, of course.” He said, but the prefect couldn’t help but notice the lack of eye contact he had, something unusual for him, although, given the circumstances, it was understandable; but was that a blush on his cheeks…?

“Our kids.” (Y/n) mentioned, pushing his limits slightly, curious at the reaction of the first year.

“…Yeah.”

“You seem fairly comfortable with them, by the way.” She added, pointing with her chin at the way he held the kids, making Jack glance at both kids as they kept talking to each other.

“I’m used to carrying my siblings in this way, I suppose it’s natural for me.”

“Interesting.”

An awkward silence reigned over the room; the children surprisingly going silent, maybe waiting for the teenagers to speak to each other, but it seemed that they were…too embarrassed for it.

“Should we take a look at the books we have here while we wait for the Professor to come back? Perhaps we can help him.”

“Good idea.”

“Good.”

⤿

“Bye, mama! Bye, papa! See you in a few years!”

“Haha, yeah, see you…”

“Come back safely.”

After Professor Crewel was able to send the kids back where they were supposed to be, both Jack and the prefect were quick to bid them goodbye. When everything was fixed, their teacher excused himself to come back to his duties, as both first-year students thanked him for the help.

She sighed with a tired demeanour as their teacher left the classroom, and then realized that Jack was still in the room with her.

“Would…would you like to talk about what just happened?” The beastman broke the silence, an awkward air surrounded him, and (Y/n) could sense the anticipation in his voice covered by his usual respectful tone.

“If I’m honest with you…Not really. What’s in the future should be left where it belongs; in the future. I think there’s no need for us to worry about something that’s not gonna happen until a few years more, you know?” Answered (Y/n) in the sincerest way she could reply. She was already too tired after running around the campus with three little children at what was supposed to be her free afternoon, and way too exhausted to be concerned about kids that didn’t even exist yet.

“It’s alright, I understand.” She could see a glimpse of disappointment on his face combined with a weird touch of relief. Maybe he wanted to speak about it but preferred not to push her if she didn’t want to.

Jack’s politeness and sense of justice was something the prefect always admired about him, one part of his personality that led her to develop a small crush on him, one she thought was senseless as the beastman didn’t seem to have any interest in her. But it never hurt to prove her luck.

“But if you’re up to chat about anything else, perhaps you want to take a walk in the city tomorrow? I have to pick Grim at Heartslabyul in a while, but I don’t have any plans for the weekend.” She suggested timidly, a tender smile making way its way to her expression, a vibrant contrast against Jack’s surprised face.

“Oh- I…I guess I’m free at that time, so I suppose I can, yeah.” The Savanaclaw student answered, trying to play it cool, ignoring the heat at his cheeks, awkwardly resting his hand on the back of his neck.

“That’s great! We can meet at the front gate-”

“I’ll pick you up at Ramshackle, don’t worry.” He added, his gaze far away from the prefect’s eyes. “If you’re okay with it, of course.”

(Y/n)’s smile quickly changed into a gentle laugh as she was amused to see the sudden shyness of the first year, giving her more confidence to answer. “I’d love to, actually. I look forward to it.”

“Great, see you tomorrow, then.” The white-haired boy turned back, wanting to go back to his dorm before he could get more embarrassed.

“Oh, Jack, before you leave.”

“Yeah?”

“Someday, can you show a picture of you when you were little?”

“Uh- why?”

“I just want to prove a theory of mine.”

“…I will, then.”

“Cool, thanks.”

⤿

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland oneshot #twisted wonderland reader insert #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst jack #twisted wonderland jack #jack howl #jack howl x reader #lynnie's post

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canihaveacalmtime · 4 months ago

Text

A mafia boss like him never relies on anyone, even his right-hand man. He's the solo wolf in a big pack, the person whose ego is just too much to handle.

Eter always tell himself that he never fails so why is he on the verge of death after an assonate attempt and is being treated by a small child like you?

You are an orphan who happened to get lost during a day out with your teacher, you call her mama, and other kids. Well, you just also happened to stumble upon Eter's injured body in the alley way and decided to help him with the medic kit you have in your bag.

When Eter regain his consciousness fully, he asked if you have a phone that can call. You hand him the phone that mama gave you as he calls his men to come get him. The moment you got your phone back was when you heard your mama calling your name.

"So your name is (Y/N)."

You reply before running out of the alley way.

"Yes, please get better and stay safe, mister."

--------------------------

After everything has calmed down, Eter begins thinking about the new emotions after his encounter with you.

He felt like he was cared with love when you treat his injuries, usually, he would treat his wounds himself because he doesn't want to look weak but after being treated for the first time, his thoughts kind of changed.

Not to mention how fragile but warm your little hands were, you're also very thoughtful too despite your age.

It's not like Eter didn't had a thought of having a child, he's scared that he cannot take up the responsibility of taking care of a child and the life he lives in, he doesn't even sure if his child would survive to say the least.

He also never received love from anyone before, even his birth parents. So raising a child? That's the impossible mission for a mafia boss.

But his courage soon raises up when he meets you again in the coffee shop that he always go to, but you were with your mama this time. The shop was rather vacant at the early morning so as you turn around a saw him, you recognized him immediately and give him a small wave.

Seeing your mama is busy on her phone, you went over to Eter's table to say hi and ask him if he's okay now, he nods. Notice the worker is bringing the food out, you only have time to wave a quick goodbye before helping your mama carry the food bags and leave.

Eter then determined to know everything about you, starting from asking his right-hand man to gather information about you. He just can't help but really feel attached to you despite only met a few times.

Knowing that you're an orphan kind of relief him because now he knows that he can adopt you.

From then on, if you notice your surroundings a little more, you'd notice a kind of feeling that you're being watch. But don't be scared, it's just Eter's men ordered to keep you safe whenever to go outside, and they will report back things that you do along with some pictures to Eter.

The main reason why he can't adopt you yet is because his power isn't wide enough to protect you but when it does, he will immediately come to the orphanage and literally snatch you back to his place.

--------------------------

As a first time parent, his actions might be a bit unprofessional at times but he always make sure that you always have your favourite meals and sleep tight every night.

He would also sometimes watch you sleep or just bluntly sleep with you, you don't complain because who would reject a giant body pillow.

Whenever you came back from school with small bruises or in a sobbing state, just know that the ones that hurt you won't be seen the next day at school.

Some nights, while sleeping beside you, watching your small form sleeping, he thought that what if you grow too fast and when you're an adult, you'd leave him or what if you don't want to rely on him anymore. And guess what, he really did thought about some methods to keep you like this forever but soon shrug it off as his first ever goal when adopting you was to see you grow after all.

Eter also wants your full attention on him whenever he's with you and if anyone dares to stole your attention away, he will give them a deadly glare that they wouldn't want to see it again.

Even though he's a first time dad, he is trying his best. Even a little possessive and protective of you, it's because he loves you so much. To him, you're his light in this dull life, the brush that paint colours into his picture and the reason why he's still going.

Although, don't try to leave him, you wouldn't want to know what's the worst can happen and let me tell you, it's not going to be bright at the least.

--------------------------------------------------

A/N: I wrote this in the middle of the night so please don't mind about the mistakes 😭

#calmwrites #yandere #platonic yandere #platonic #platonic yandere x reader #gn reader #yandere drabble #yandere scenarios #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #fem reader #male reader

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harstyle · 10 months ago

Text

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now.

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and had sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered.

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself. Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s whose name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?”

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum.

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?”

“Of course.”

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing out dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.”

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine.

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

“Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture most. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?! I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone: “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It felt instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight. “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the next room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts. Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they didn’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat. He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head back so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder.

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want or need Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles materlist #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x nanny #harry styles ceo #harry styles fanfic rec

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yandere-sins · 4 months ago

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Monstober - Day 1: Chimera

I had a daydream similar to this for a while and since I recently watched "Damsel" I thought human sacrifice was the way to go for day one of my challenge (Words you can only say on the internet, not in real life--) ♥ Enjoy!

Prompt: Chimera | Mixed // Misunderstood // Insanity Warnings: (Monster!)Yandere, Fem!Reader, Stabbing, Blood Mention, Dying Mention (no character death), Human sacrifice, Mention and Description of Monster (obviously), Long Post

"No... no, no, please no!"

"It is necessary for our future. For the kingdom."

There was reluctance in his voice; his eyes that he kept forward were fogged with inexplicable horror, his hand trembling around your wrist. But his grip didn't loosen, no matter how much you shook, tore, pulled—he didn't give you a chance to escape the fate he had sealed for you.

"Father..." you sobbed, stumbling over your own feet, your heels dragging the carpet with them as you planted them firmly into the fabric ground. You wanted to believe in the pain you had seen in his eyes when the clerics told your father what to do. Tried to believe he didn't mean to do this cruel thing to his one and only daughter, the last family he had. But you also remembered how his face hardened after the initial shock, how he made peace with this decision that he claimed was unavoidable, no matter how much it pained him.

"There will be no one left! If you continue like this, you'll be all alone!" you cried, the guards lowering their heads shamefully as you two passed them in the hallway in an unfit manner for royals. They wouldn't even lift a finger to save you or stand in the king's way to do their duty towards the princess they had protected all their life. You knew each of their names, the helms they were ordered to wear to hide their shame, not sparing them from being recognized.

"Brother is gone, Mother is gone! You'll have no one! There must be another way! There must be something we can do against this monster!"

No one would meet your gaze as you pleaded for your life.

Your fate was sealed.

Crying even harder, you collapsed to the ground, being pulled forward only by your father, whose eyes drooped heavy with tears. The years had worn him down, and the rising of an ancient creature had been the last thing his poor heart could take. Before you wasn't the king you once knew, the father you adored. It was but a poor, old man who had lost everything to one misery after the other.

And yet, he didn't waver, didn't stop. He turned around only to pick you up from the ground, setting you back on your feet, giving your pain no ounce of attention before continuing to drag you to the monster's cave. Down, down below the castle, until you were both drowning in the darkness and your sorrow. It was hard to hate your father, hard to hate the people that once loved you, when all they knew now was fear of a force no one had ever witnessed but the clerics had deemed to be the wrath of the gods.

"It's your duty," your father choked forth, a third down the endless staircase where it was as dark and suffocating as you imagined death would be.

"And who will you sacrifice next? Another noble? Another child? When will it end, Father?"

Coming to a standstill on the stairs, you heard your father gulp. It was the only moment of respite he granted you, and you should have used it to break free and run away. He was old, and you were not; he might have let you go, seeing as you were the last of his family left. But you didn't. Both of you were duty-bound, even if that meant killing you. You knew the answer to your own question, unable to bear the truth and the misery your escape would cause upon the kingdom you loved almost as much as your father did.

"When the monster is satisfied," he replied sorrowfully, unable to give you the exact amount of sacrifices it would need. No more words needed to be spoken, and as you two descended the staircase, his hand slipped from your wrist, but your legs didn't stop.

Truthfully, your knees were nearly collapsing from fear, and your instincts screamed at you to flee. But when you embraced the country as the future ruler after the disappearance of your brother and your mother, you swore to protect it. You swore to be who they needed, and what they needed was this. A sacrifice.

You had to catch yourself a few times on the stone walls that encased you on your descent. A few times you considered abandoning everything. But what would happen to your people? What would happen to everyone you held dear, who believed in you all your life and supported you unconditionally?

The betrayal of your own father, willing to sacrifice you, was worse than any assassination attempt and hurt more than the wounds of loss inflicted on you by the very same man who promised you to do everything to unite your family again. But you weren't that stupid, never believed a word when he told you they ran away, abandoned you two. As you walked down these stairs, it became abundantly clear that he had lied. That everyone had lied. The more you thought about it, the more it was obvious what happened.

You were not the first in this long line of sacrifices.

But when the soldiers announced the beast was ravaging the villages again, the people demanded a solution, and the clerics swore that only a noble sacrifice could satisfy the beast's hunger. Another one. And now, another one. What was your father supposed to do? How could he refuse? How could you?

Two lamps welcomed you in front of the sturdy doors, the only way to keep the monster out. The stale air choked you as you stood before them. They showcased an impressive number of ancient runes carved into them for protection. The handles were clean, and the runes seemed to have been re-carved recently. You began to shake uncontrollably at its sight, your mind unable to comprehend it was going to die but knowing that these stone doors were all that separated you from your fate.

Only now did you hear your father's sobs and watched him come undone as you two stood in front of the entrance to the cave that housed this terrible creature for centuries. Without thinking, you reached out your hand, wanting to rub his back, perhaps find comfort for yourself in the touch. But at the last second, you withdrew, the betrayal too tremendous, and this gesture not changing anything besides making it harder to let go.

He pushed onwards as if driven by an invisible force. Your heart couldn't understand the dissonance between his actions, the crying yet complying. But your head did. And as much as fear was gripping you, as much as you wanted to flee, you followed him warily, driven by the same force whilst harboring the same tears in your eyes. You were both mourning the now, past, and future. The pain was almost too much to bear.

With all his strength—which seemed like none in this haggard, old body of his—your father grabbed the handle of one of the stone doors, the grating sound of it shaking you to the core as he pushed it open just a gap. He couldn't and wouldn't open it further, not risking more than he already did by offering your life in exchange for peace.

"Go," he ordered, sounding tired of life, as if it was his turn to go. "Go, I'll bear witness."

You noticed the chair by the lamp, the wood new and the cushions still whole. How many hours, how many days, had your father sat here, listening to the monster? Making sure the door was locked after sacrificing his family one by one? Witnessed the horror, the screams?

Something inside of you told you he sat there for many days and would sit for many more, as was his duty as the king who sacrificed his people. You couldn't place his pain above yours but knew you couldn't run either. Was this how your brother and mother felt as well? Did they want to leave but couldn't, despite feeling so, so hurt and betrayed? Your father did it for the greater good, but did he have to be so heartless about it?

You stood before the gap, only darkness awaiting you, suddenly frozen when you felt his hand at the small of your back, still warm, still caring. For a moment, he was your father. For a moment, you wanted to believe he acted in your best interest, not the kingdom's. For a moment, you still loved him more than anyone else.

"Forgive me," your father whispered, and you dared to look back over your shoulder when you felt the sudden pang of pain in your side, the betrayal so loud it overtook all your senses with the sound of your body being sliced open.

With a knife in your side, you were pushed forward, gasping and sputtering as the pain zapped through your veins. More tears welled up in your eyes as you collapsed to the ground, feeling the rumble of the door being shut behind you. This time, you did look back, but all you could see was the red light of the torches through your tears before you were plunged into darkness, the grating of the stone doors echoing from all around you.

So much anger, so much frustration welled up in these last moments of your life. The betrayal made you scream, but as the sound left your throat, you realized the strength you had gained from the pain. Although unsteady and frantic, you got to your feet, your hand catching onto the wall to your right, guiding you through the entrance. You were driven by nothing but betrayal and anger, even as the pain weaved its way through your body, making every step harder to endure.

Logically, you knew it was mercy. That the intention had been for you to die before the monster could get to you. A monster no one had ever seen, ever survived to tell the tale of. And although it was the only explanation for all the misery your country had to endure, if you ever wanted to forgive your father and die honorably, you had to see it for yourself, witness its existence before your death. You grabbed the knife, but you realized it hurt too much at the first miserable tug. That you couldn't possibly get it out. Even though you had nudged it a little, you decided to leave it there, allow it to give you some time.

Finding light at the end of the tunnel was a surprise you didn't expect. Stepping out into a cave without a roof, showcasing the gray sky, and bathing you in a light drizzle was not the scenery you expected to die in. There was no way out but through the hole in the ceiling, yet you didn't remember where this place could possibly be in the kingdom, just that it was impossible to escape. How could anything survive here, with walls too smooth to climb out and just a carved-out pit to hide from the weather?

You noticed there was hay in the pit, still dry, but not much else except for dirt and stone all around you. You expected bones and clumps of flesh, gore, and vile. The hallway you had come from was shrouded in darkness, but there was no going back, that much you knew. You took another step forward, into the light, and immediately, you were hit with dizziness, your body falling forward, but you caught your balance just in time. Seeing your own blood dripping onto the wet floor, robbed you of the last bits of strength you had gathered, and ultimately, you sunk to the dirty floor, hitting it on your side.

So this is it, you thought as you lay there, realizing there never had been a monster. No monster could have escaped from this inescapable place and caused havoc. It was simply a place to get rid of people in the name of sacrifice. All this time, part of you had defended your father in your mind, but you had been wrong in the end. And it had led to your doom, your death so unfitting of you. Had you not been a good princess? Had you not offered help and support wherever you could, gotten your hands dirty for those in need, and lived humbly while being kind? Was that the reason they had to get rid of you? Because you just had not been the kind of person they wanted to give the throne to, not as ruthless and stern as your father?

The ground shook around you, but you were too tired to flinch, to even react. It was strange; the continuous pattern of rain had been interrupted as the day seemed to darken above you. You tried to twist your head, focus your gaze, and make out what happened, but it was hard to understand what you were seeing.

"So what would you do if you could do it all over again?" a voice asked. It made you wary, even if you barely had the strength left to care. Deep and gravely, you felt the ground shake under your barely conscious mind. Was it a man? A woman? Were they talking to you? Where did they come from?

"Wouldn't you hunt them down, kill them for what they did to you, destroy every bit of the land they cherished over you?"

Someone—something—completely blocked out the light shining down from above. A shadow so dark it turned day into night. The rain stopped completely just as your breathing began to be labored, shallow. You tried to focus, tried to make it out. The shapes of the body made no sense. Round, triangle, rectangles. A face, wings, paws. It smelled wet and rotten next to the stinging metallic of your own blood. Foul, yet sweet. The body reminded you of a beast, but when its face drew closer, it was that of an angel whose expression was not right yet so familiar in its pain.

Oh, god, you thought. It's real. The monster is real.

"Wouldn't you return their gestures? Take the same things away from them that they have from you? Their food, their freedom, their family? Tell me, little princess, would you not destroy the very things they worked so hard for, build on top of the corpses of those you love?"

It leaned down a little more, and you couldn't help but hitch a breath. Razor-sharp teeth and slitted eyes, their glow so harsh with all the darkness around you. You felt the breath of the creature wave over your throat—it was this close. Close enough to bite, crunch, and break through your pitiful bones. And yet, despite the venom it spewed, you heard only the miserable truth of those who were wronged. This thing, whatever it was, in all its gruesome, beautiful features, was the same as you were. Mourning the same things, raging for the same reasons.

But as you used the last bits of your strength to think about it, you realized you couldn't agree. You were angry and betrayed, but whatever this creature was, so strange, so different, it was real. You had not been lied to. And it must be deadly, just by the looks of its teeth and claws, so naturally, people would fear it. Naturally, they'd do what they could to get rid of it. How could you blame them for being afraid when you, most of all, knew how terrifying it was?

"Maybe..." you croaked, forcing the word from your throat. "Maybe I'd try to change things next time. No more betrayal. No more sacrifice. Peace. Understanding."

Your father would have called you his sweet, gentle daughter had he heard you. But you were dying, so why should you care if your answer was a bit naive? You didn't want anyone to go through what you had to go through; feel what you felt. Not even the monster. And who knew? Maybe it was no monster at all, just because it looked different.

"Hmm?" the voice coaxed, withdrawing in movements that were too sharp for its human parts, its manners so bird-like and not just because of the wings that fluttered and puffed expectantly. You realized it wasn't just one thing as you heard claws scraping impatiently over the ground. Huge paws settled on either side of your body as the creature hovered above you. It could crush you with the immense size of its body, but you couldn't help but reach out, feeling the soft fur of its leg against your fingertips.

"Because next time, I'd not be helpless. I'd not fear you more than I fear my father. Next time, surely... I'd try to do better..."

"Hmm? Hmmm?" The creature kept coaxing more from you, not realizing that you lost conscience by the fading of your voice.

"Interesting," it chittered after a moment of silence. Ears perked to hear your heart slowing while your hand fell off its paw. Its own hand reached out, the round of its claws brushing up your palm until it could intertwine your fingers, your hand barely big enough to meet the requirements to be held by theirs.

It sniffed the air, the smell of blood pungent.

"Interesting," it repeated, chuckling as it grabbed you by the arm, its free hand dedicating two oversized fingers to grab the knife. It wasted no time lifting you high into the air at its eye level before pulling the knife out of you and discarding it over its human shoulder.

"I'll hear what you have to say, little princess. Wish to learn if you could be different from all of us. But first, you must heal. Must stop the bleeding. Humans are so fragile."

It tutted as it carried you over to its resting space, and your body jerked as the blood gushed from the stab wound. It truly seemed to be the end for your bloodline as you were laid safely between the monster's paws, settled to be either tended to or eaten. But at least you wouldn't have to witness it.

You'd not die a monster like everyone else.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Is it done?"

Despite your senses only partially having returned, you recognized the voice that woke you from slumber. It was the same exhausted, whiney voice that had fooled you into obeying. Your father. The king.

You felt like you were still dying, wetness spreading over your back as pressure rubbed it all over your skin. It almost felt like a massage, but it was nowhere as relaxing, not with your body still in a state of deadly distress. Even if you weren't dying, it sure felt like it all over again.

"It sure is, my king. You finally managed to satisfy me with your puny sacrifices. This one is much better than the last."

This time, the voice was much closer, so cut-throat close, in fact, it raised goosebumps on your skin. The "massage" stopped, and you heaved a breath, but your body barely moved. The sarcasm in the voice, however, didn't go unnoticed. You were witnessing a conversation, much more than participating, but undoubtedly, the topic was you.

"By the gods... don't tell me you plan to--"

"Eat her?"

You remembered now. It was the voice of the monster. Memories flooded back to the forefront of your thoughts, memories of the questions it asked, memories of what it looked like. It hurt to think about it. The fear that returned made it all the more painful.

"No, I will not eat her," it laughed gently as if it was careful not to wake you. "I only eat the corrupted. Minds like yours that would sacrifice his whole family. Minds like mine that want only what is equal to me. You wouldn't understand. You are just human."

"I don't understand, you made me do this! I only did what you forced me to! You wouldn't stop killing even when I begged you to! It was you who forced me to sacrifice my family!"

A shiver went through the creature. You felt it all around you, making you realize it was all around you. Slowly, you managed to open your eyes. The thought of why am I not dead crossed you as you laid still, barely able to see through the gaps between your lids. All you witnessed was the soft light barely grazing you, the shadow of the king interrupting it even though you could barely see over the massive paw that secured you in place.

"Do not blame me for your doings, human. Have you forgotten what those gods of yours did to me? What your ancestors begged them to do to me? I am only giving back to those who wronged me, and you are to appease me if you wish to live. I made you this; a man, a king. I can take it from you as I please."

Arms snaked around you, human in shape but too long, wrapping around your body in ways you had never been hugged before. Lifting you, cradling you, a fully-grown adult, like a child. Your eyes fell close again as you were nestled against soft fur, with a sturdy body beneath, but the hold on you was so gentle that it made you want to fall asleep again.

"But you are lucky, for I am finally appeased by this little one," the creature purred, and you breathed a barely noticeable sigh of relief. You did it. Your sacrifice had not been in vain.

"It will satisfy me for a while, as did you when you were but a wee little farmer's boy. Still innocent, still hopeful, and wishing for change. She will have to claw her way out of here, and I will feed on her despair, her corruption. And once she is ready, I will send her to you so she may end your pitiful existence. Only then will you be ripe for eating, and she will continue humoring me as is the destiny of the strong-willed. I am eager to see how she will struggle after your passing, how she will break. I hope she will fare better than you, who became but a boring toy the moment I gave him the freedom to act in my name. You were not nearly the tyrant I made you to be."

"Please," you heard your father whimper, and it wasn't long before sobs echoed through the cave. "She's my daughter. She doesn't deserve this. All this pain and suffering to amuse you..."

"Neither did I."

You felt the brush of a hand against your cheek as if to wipe away tears that you hadn't cried. Even when you remembered the claws, the touch was careful, adding no more hurt.

"Now leave," the creature ordered, and the hand fell from you as you were laid down again. "She is no longer yours. And she might just have become my favorite toy ever since this existence came to be. But she needs to heal, and she is so close to waking up from your nagging. If you wish to settle your affairs, now is the time. Before I have broken my toy enough to send her after you, King."

The sobs grew louder for a few moments before they turned into sniffling. Steps crunched over the ground, but they suddenly halted. "I hope this time, your sacrifice kills you, you vile thing. You are no human anymore, but you are too clever for a beast. Like a corpse, refusing to die."

"Oh," the monster chuckled, but the laughter grew louder, and it seemed the creature was unable to hold it back. "Look at you, almost like you once were! It's a pity you are so old and worn. But contrary to you, my game won't die, and more will suffer before your wish will come true!"

You barely heard the steps disappearing back into the castle over the creature's laughter, but it soon stilled as the heavy stone doors closed shut, leaving you behind once more. Your heart ached. It was too much to bear, but you grew uncomfortably rigid in the creature's hold, its breath grazing your skin.

"You're awake, you should have told him what you feel. Are you mad now, little girl? Scared? Angry? Don't worry, you'll get to tell him all that is bothering you soon. We'll have so much fun devising your downfall. You'll be the most corrupt ruler of them all. I know it."

"W-" your voice failed as you tried to speak, and the creature chittered at your weakness.

"Why? It's lonely. So lonely to be cursed. But not when more people are suffering. You think you can make a change, but you are wrong. It's my destiny to be cursed, and now it is yours, too. As was it the curse of the king before you, the queen before him. I break them, reshape them, and when their time comes that they forget about me, I curse them with the same loneliness. The circle will be endless, but it will be fulfilled nonetheless."

Skin smushed against yours, a cheek pressed against your cheek, forehead, and face. Like a parent to a child, affectionate, sweet. Different from the truths the monster was revealing. Finally, you managed to open your eyes and stared into the strange face as an unsettling grin split its features.

It was even less human than you thought it to be, its face like what a human bird would look like—sharp eyes, aquiline nose. Feathers are sprouting instead of hair, framing its face and all over its arms. The sharp horns of a goat broke through its feathery fur on top of its head, and its torso changed into that of a lion, four more paws added to its limbs, with its scaled tail snaked around one of the hindlegs. Wings rested leisurely over its animal body, flinching occasionally as it watched you with more interest than anyone had ever before. It was beyond comparison; there was nothing you could describe without sounding like you had gone absolutely insane. So many things mixed into one body, it was a wonder it could even live. A mad experiment.

Death incarnated.

"So, fight me, little princess. Make me forget this loneliness for as long as possible, so I may not resort to what I do when I get lonely—ravage, take, eat. Challenge me, escape me, try to kill me, so I can do what I do best to you, corrupt and fill you with the despair of realizing you are nothing compared to me. That you will always have to live in fear. That you are always mine."

You gulped, your throat slowly coating with saliva again, smoothing your poor vocal cords, returning the ability to speak again.

"I refuse," you croaked. "I'll never be the monster you want me to be."

"Mhm," it hummed, but it was a sound of pleasure. "Just like that, little princess.

"I knew you'd not disappoint me."

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