#and also had his mother's complexion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arcielee · 6 months ago

Text

Devotion

Summary: You are a Targaryen princess with an infatuation on a certain White Cloak. Paring: Ser Erryk Cargyll x Targaryen!Reader Word Count: 5.7k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, neglect, angst, unrequited love?, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v, more angst, oral sex (m and f receiving), a mother's reprimand, lots of blood, death, more angst Author’s Note: Thank you my beloved beta reader @zaldritzosrose for looking this over and helping me this story. I Mushroom-tweaked it to fit the angsty plot. This started as an anon request and unfolded into so much more. It is dedicated to my darling @opheliax98 who encouraged "all the drama" of this piece. I hope it you enjoy it. 💜 You can also read it on ao3.

Your mother decided that you would return to the Red Keep as an envoy, because of your ability to hide in plain sight despite the poisoned word that first followed your steps–ilībōños, bastard. It was the same that was thrown towards your half-brothers, but with a tone as bold as their brown curls and brown eyes; they did not have the fortune of their Valyrian roots to hide under, their features often speculated as too Strong.

You, however, were the first, albeit illegitimate, born of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, conceived the same night that her virtue was called into question.

There was a bitter speculation of your origins that faded away with your birth; you were another nameless Targaryen princess that would decorate the family tapestry, another egg that turned to stone in the crib. Life in the capitol was lonely for you; your father was away in Pentos with his new family, while your mother remained preoccupied with her White Cloak, and then her Gold Cloak and new husband. There was an age gap between you and your brothers, your nephews and your niece, and it was an isolating chasm that placed you as an outsider, a spectator, with the unfocused eyes of the court looking through you.

Your only company was your handmaiden, Elinda, but her loyalties reported back to your mother, and then your Septa, but her complaints were ceaseless, especially as you learned the pathways that Maegor the Cruel had carved into the Keep; they became your escape from her lessons.

It was then your mother requested a knight from the Kingsguard to watch over you, and you mourned the little bit of independence acquired, assuming you would be assigned someone old, doddy, who served as another set of eyes that would only look through you.

You were not expecting Ser Erryk Cargyll.

To begin, he was only three years older than you–it was said his swordsmanship so impressed the Lord Commander that he also recruited his twin brother, bringing them both to King's Landing to serve in the Kingsguard. He was handsome, standing tall behind your mother, long and lithe. His ruddy complexion brought out the blue-gray of his eyes that showed unsure, almost shy with the introductions.

You smiled at him and his lips curled upwards in response, a rose dusting to his cheeks.

You liked him at once.

He was devoted to your shadow, almost rapt to your beck and call. The attention fed your girlish infatuation with the young knight, and you were always teasing him in a way that teetered on the edge of his duty and his oath with your coy questions and smirk. Ser Erryk was rarely rattled by you, but seemed more amused–he would answer you with a frank tone, a welcomed honesty, that ended with your title: it was always, “Yes, princess,” or “I shall see to it, princess.”

It continued on for months until one evening, as he escorted you to your room, you asked him to call you by your name, to set aside the formality. You saw the brilliant blue of his eyes, bright amongst the flush of his features; his tongue wet his lips, searching for his voice. “I could never do that, princess,” he started slowly, his eyes flickering up again to look at you as if for the first time. You saw the dust of his freckles that burned bright against his skin. “My purpose is to keep you safe.”

His voice was low, so serious, and it made your blood rise to the surface. You tried to laugh it off. “My purpose is to wait around until I am able to marry the highest bidder.” It was something that weighed heavy on your heart; your eyes fell away and your fingers grasped into the fabric of your skirts. “I know I will not be missed within these walls once I am gone.”

“That’s not true, princess.”

It startled you, and you peered back up from underneath your lashes, your heart vibrating against your skin. You watched Ser Erryk choke on his boldness, his regret knotting into his face before he settled on silence. You watched him go, the muted ensemble of his armor as he returned to the barracks below.

That moment created something palpable that pressed overhead. You were too young, too rash to even know how to tactfully touch the subject again. The forced return to your norm left your bones aching; Ser Erryk doted on your steps, and you rambled on to drown out the incessant screaming of your heart within your chest.

It spilled over at Driftmark. Your family went for the Velaryon funeral procession for Daemon’s wife, feeding further into the resentment that rifted within the house of the dragon. You slipped away and found Aegon in his cups, deciding to steal some of the liquid courage. When Ser Erryk found you, your eyes were glassy and your cheeks flushed.

He sighed, shaking his head, reaching to help you stand, but you swore you saw the hint of a smile touching his lips. Ser Erryk said nothing, but wrapped his arm around your waist and matched his gait with your staggered steps to your room. You rested your head on his shoulders, enjoyed his smell of olive oil used on his sword and how it mixed with his perspiration.

At the door, you felt his breath tickle your ear, “I will not speak of this to the crowned princess, but you should get some rest–”

You spun to face him, your hands pushing on his breastplate to steady yourself on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to meet with his. Ser Erryk froze with your kiss, his White Cloak tightening like a vice. His palms were rough, but he was gentle to wrap your elbows and pull you back, his gaze rooting you to cobblestone.

Moments ticked away with your beating heart that was now bruising against your bones before he finally said, “I cannot give you what you truly deserve, princess.”

He said nothing else and your embarrassment fed the fire in your blood. You pulled away from him and slipped into your room, careful to close your door. Your back pressed against the carvings of sea creatures into the oak and you melted to the floor, your tears spilling to ease your girlish heartache.

Elsewhere on the island, a dragon was claimed and bloodshed followed. The walls rattled as the king proclaimed his true loyalty and it ended with you being whisked away to Dragonstone. It was for the best, you decided, to leave your broken heart behind. You felt the tinge of hope when you learned that your mother and your father were finally together, and decided to set aside your infatuation of the White Cloak, but instead focus to aid your mother, to help solidify what your grandsire, King Viserys, had proclaimed to the Seven Realms.

That she was to be queen.

It had been six years since you last been at King’s Landing. It was now a place both familiar and strange. The same architecture rose above, shadowing over Blackwater Bay, though inside your ancestry of Old Valyria had been replaced, the Keep becoming a shrine to the new gods who had not yet paid their dues for such a show of devotion.

As you entered through the Barbican, you smirked at the memory of the girl you were before, only ten and five, on the cusp of womanhood that required your gowns to be stitched to fit your slender frame. Now your figure filled your dresses, your curves pressing to the seams and your hair twisted and styled to showcase the dragonblood in your veins, that shined in the amethyst of your eyes.

The queen was first to come and greet you. The handmaidens selected were controlled by Elinda, who watched their flurry to unpack. You looked up to see her lips pursed, her dark brown eyes washed over like you were a specter coming to haunt, like she wished for the earth to swallow you whole.

“It has been requested–” her tone was queenly, but you noted that she would not mention how it was your mother that penned her a letter, “–for you to have a knight assigned. I was advised that Ser Erryk has served this role before.”

His name caused your blood to roar in your head as you turned to watch him enter the room. Ser Erryk seemed taller, or perhaps that was how he now held himself, his pride set on his shoulders and onto his features that sharpened. He was still sinewy, though he seemed to fill out the armor hammered to fit his frame, polished and gleaming in the sun that streaked through; it burned bright in his copper hair that was brushed back to show his beard trimmed to fit his jaw.

The coloring brought out his blue-gray eyes that shined almost unsure, almost shy.

It kindled something within you that you believed to be gone, a feeling that washed away on the shores of Dragonstone and swept to the depths of the bay, buried in the sand.

Ser Erryk looked at you and you could not help your smile. His lips ticked upwards and you felt your pulse flutter anew, seizing your heart again.

Your iron-clad shadow followed after your steps, a devotion renewed, and it returned the muscle memory of his constant and comforting presence as you reacquainted with the old castle. Ser Erryk accompanied your rounds to visit with Helaena and her children, watching your brief exchange with each prince, and even briefer with the king who smiled when he called you Rhaenyra. Your knight then escorted you back to your room without a word, just the chink of his armor with his steps, echoing off the stone.

You paused in the doorway, looking back to see his stance. As he watched you, your mind flittered with words but none could knit together. “Sleep well, princess,” he finally spoke with a small bow, excusing himself.

The room had also been stripped of your Targaryen history, almost unfamiliar despite your chests unpacked. Elinda and the other handmaidens helped prepare you for bed, and a cup of wine was poured but your stomach would not hold it down. They left you alone and your quarters were now a gilded cage to contain you; you pulled on your pale, silk robe and finished half of the goblet, summoning your old courage to slip away.

The same panel opened with ease, but inside, basked in the amber light of torch set in a sconce, stood Ser Erryk with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Your mouth fell open and he grinned at you. “I take my oath with my heart, princess,” he reminded you.

“How did you know–?” You stammered, licking the wine from your lips.

He only shrugged, his eyes glittering in the fire. “You seem so very different, but also are still the same.”

You pulled the panel closed to silence his chuckle. You finished the rest of the wine poured and returned to your bed.

Your days at Kings Landing were idly filled. Your old Septa returned with her scrutiny of the woman you had become, her brow furrowing to find fault as you showcased your refinement of a lady mastered over the last half decade. Your afternoons were spent in the company of Helaena and her children, the only ones welcoming your return, with the littlest one, Maelor, especially taken with you.

The time was spent in the gardens with a blanket sprawled out. Helaena would hum songs while the twins played their games. Maelor was content to sit in your lap, his eyes wide to discover whatever came within his chubby grasp.

And Ser Erryk, your shadow, would stay close by, always.

“He will draw his own blood to protect you.” The princess spoke suddenly, jarringly–it was a common happenstance with Helaena, you learned. Her every impertinent thought spilled off her tongue in riddles.

Maelor’s eyes widened with his beginning grasp of the spoken word. You blew a raspberry onto his cheek to distract him, and he fell into a fit of giggles. “He would draw blood, but only if it was needed,” you corrected her, your voice low.

Helaena only hummed in response, falling back into whatever song as she looked over the flowers that surrounded you both, watching the insects that lived amongst them. Her words remained with you, echoing in your head long after the moon began its silver stretch overhead. It guided your steps back to the panel in your room and you pushed it open.

Ser Erryk straightened at once, his hand back on his pommel. “Princess? Why are you still–”

You stopped him with a gentle touch on his breastplate, steadying yourself to rise on the balls of your feet until your lips pressed to his once again. But this time he responded, melting against–his lips were soft and warm, and his beard tickled your skin.

You fell flat-footed to the floor with a smile spreading across your face; he was enraptured to watch the words that spilled from your lips. “I thought I had forgotten that night at Driftmark, but it seems what you said has embedded into my bones.” You felt light-headed, but also embolden by his gaze and the black that swallowed his murky cobalt eyes. “You once said that you could not give me what I deserved, but did you ever think you could give me what I want, what I desire?”

It was a dam broken and he surged against you, pressing until your back touched the other side of the corridor. He reclaimed your mouth with a honeyed fervor that warmed your blood. Your fingers pull away the tie that held back his hair and combed through his silky copper spill. His fingers bruised into your hips, holding on as if you would slip away.

You broke the kiss, breathless, your fingers knitting with his own and pulling him back into your room. It was a quiet exchange, littered with soft kisses, as you helped him remove his iron armor piece-by-piece, stacking the plates aside.

He draped the white cape over a chair and looked to you. Underneath he wore a pale tunic and cream slacks, his outline pressing to the seams in a way that made your thighs clench. He stepped closer, his desperation more controlled, and pulled you into his chest, his thumb pressed to tilt your chin for a slow and searching kiss.

You sighed and his tongue curled to taste, his fingers peeling away the bedtime silk that covered your skin. He worshiped every inch shown with his mouth, blooms of color decorating your skin.

You helped him pull his shirt over his head, wanting to feel the heat of his skin, to feel the golden hair across his chest. His heart was vibrating beneath, and his arms wrapped around your waist with another kiss that pulled the air from your lungs. Ser Erryk tightened his hold to lift you and walk you backwards until you felt the edge of the bed touching the back of your knees; you sat down, your thighs plush and pink.

His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back to look at you. “Beautiful,” he whispered before leaning to capture your lips again.

Your fingers curled at the nape of his neck to pull him towards you, moving back against the mattress. He followed, his skin flushed red and his eyes wide as you laid back into the pillows. He moved on top of you, gentle to touch you with soft caresses and lingering kisses, following your guide as you led his hand lower towards the intimacy between your thighs, wet and wanting.

He trembled with his exhale as his fingertips split apart your velvet folds, his calloused touch careful to map the bloom of nerves above. You gasped with his testing touch and his smile curled into his blood stained cheeks; he moved softer, but quicker, until it elicited a sweet sigh.

Ser Erryk was responsive, attentive to you. He was aware of your breathing and soft sounds, matching his ministration to pull something deeper within you, sparking at the base of your spine. It felt different from your own touch, this passion he pulled without your control, and you squirmed from the pressure building in your core.

“Erryk,” you whined, your hips lifting against his hand.

He grinned, shifting to press a kiss underneath your jaw, and your skin rippled over in response to the contrast of his lips and his beard. “That’s it princess,” his husky tone was hot against your skin; your hands moved to hold him close, another pitiful mewl spilling. He shifted his hand, moving to curl two fingers within your cunt while his thumb pressed to your swollen pearl.

“Erryk–!” you gasped, and your nails pressed red crescents into his shoulders.

His brow was knitted with his concentration, moving to litter kisses along the column of your neck and to your collarbones–a gentle nip that bolted the length of your spine. He does not stop, his fingers coated with your slick with his rhythm that curled upwards into you, sparking a euphoria that poured white-hot into your blood, your heart bruising until you feel it rattling your bones.

His other hand touched to return you back to your body; his palms rough but kind, following the curve of your stomach and resting to feel the rise and fall with your bated breath. You felt dizzy, blushing, and you blinked, looking down to see him watching you. He moved to give you another searing kiss that rekindled the same warmth pooling between your thighs.

You kissed him back and spread your legs for his slender waist to slot in-between. He pulled his slacks lower, allowing the underside of his cock to spread your velvet folds, a heady but delicious pressure against your cunt. You pulled him in for a kiss and he groaned into your mouth as you canted your hips, your heart pulsing against his heavy cock.

He was flushed. “I will be gentle, princess…”

You swallowed his words with another kiss, your legs knotting around to rut your hips against him. He panted into your mouth, his arm dipping to line himself with your entrance, and you clenched with your anticipation.

Erryk pressed into you with a trembled control as your heat enveloped him fully. You were split apart with the most delicious fill; you mewled, pitiful, and his head fell forward, tucking into the curve of your neck. “Gods be good…” he rasped.

Your fingers dimpled into his waist, encouraging his thrusts. His pace filled you sinfully, a slow roll of his hips that spurred a pleasure coiling within. You gasped against his chest, your nails biting into his skin as he quickened, going deeper, almost bruising. You felt your walls flutter around him, pulling another guttural groan from the back of his throat, his rasped whisper of your name buried into your hair.

The euphony trilled your spine and you clenched with your second release. It pulled him over that precipice of pleasure, crashing like a tidal wave. Erryk melted against you, hot, pulsing deep within you, and you breathed in his skin, the same intoxicating scent mixed with olive oil and wax.

He pulled away, the tender moment passing as duty resurfaced.

You made a noise, pushing to sit upright and your head tilting to watch his heavy sway between his thighs as he walked back from the basin with a clean cloth in hand. Your eyes met with his and his brow arched in return, teasing; you caught his wrist and pulled him back into the bed, against your heart.

Erryk twisted his face until it pressed into your skin, licking and kissing whatever his mouth could touch. You giggled, squirming until you could rest your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you.

You did not want this night to end. “Do not leave me, Erryk.”

“I am sworn to you, princess.” He reminded you, pressing his lips to your hairline.

It was not what you wished to hear, but it was all you would get at this moment. You hummed, burying your face until his chest hair tickled, listening to the low thrum of his heartbeat.

That night changed the monotony of the Red Keep. You thought of any reason to pull Erryk away from prying eyes; stolen kisses and touches that lingered, heating your skin. Your eyes now would flit to find him and see that he was always standing close, his gaze piercing through, settled onto you.

When the sun tucked away into the horizon, he would slip through the passageway and back into your embrace, the intimate tangle of bare limbs abed with breathless kisses and secrets shared. He learned your body, an instrument to be mastered and a passion to taste you on his lips, staining his beard. He became your confidant, sharing the mutterings of the court; he was the one to warn you about the claimant for Driftmark.

You wrote your mother at once.

It had been months since you left Dragonstone and you were excited to see her, your father and your siblings again. You were deciding on what gown to wear while Elinda was cleaning up, pulling your sheets away with a scowl on her face.

You laughed at her expression. “What is it?”

She was perplexed. “I cannot recall your last moonsblood, princess,” she admitted, her lips pursed. “I feel that time seems to run itself together within these walls.”

Her words ripped through you, but you said nothing, your expression as solid as the stones stacked to create the walls she referred to. Elinda finished tucking the corners before she noticed. “Princess! Are you okay–?”

“I am fine,” you lied. “Help me with my dress.”

Underneath you were rattled, frightened with the revelation of life within you. Your disquiet settled away, disappearing once your mother arrived. You rushed to greet her, seeing her swollen with another heir in the making. Her silver brows knitted as she looked over the state of the Red Keep, and you wrapped an arm around your side, pulling you close to whisper: “It is even worse than what you described!”

There was comfort in your mother’s arms and you pressed a kiss to her cheek. She looked at you a moment before her gaze fell back to Erryk, your ever dutiful-shadow noted. “Good ser, you have my eternal gratitude for keeping her safe.”

He was pink with her words. “Thank you, princess.”

Her focus remained on him another moment before she looked back to you, her eyes now careful to comb over. You swallowed, unsure, and she said nothing as her attention was whisked away to her purposeful return to the Keep.

The days that followed were tumultuous in the least, with a tension that spilled crimson on the floor of the Throne Room. Your stomach dropped from the wet sound of the two halves of Ser Vaemond hitting the stone floor, the smell of iron thick around you; Erryk moved in front of you to shield you away.

King Viserys called for a supper that evening to mend the ever-growing rift, but instead emotions imploded, splitting the room in half.

Erryk moved to wrap his hand around your arm at your mother’s command. Your father escorted your siblings and their betrotheds back to their rooms, his silver brow furrowing at you and your knight.

Your footfalls echoed to keep with his pace, a numbed process of what had just happened. “I will have to return to Dragonstone,” you whispered when you felt certain it was just the two of you. “Wait for me.”

Erryk looked at you before he stepped closer, cupping your jaw. It rooted you as he leaned to give you a chaste kiss, the warmth of his mouth searing through you. You stifled a sob when he pulled back to place another kiss to your hairline, another secret whispered against your skin. “I always have, princess.”

Dragonstone was gray and dreary as you remembered, becoming a beacon for awful when the news came that the king was dead and that Prince Aegon II Targaryen now sat upon the throne.

It wrenched through your mother and her hands pressed to her abdomen. The day waned with your father plotting at the very table the Conqueror laid plans, while your mother’s screams echoed throughout. You waited in the shadows, your hands pressing to protect your stomach; you prayed fervently to the gods, the old ones and the new, but they did not answer.

A pyre was stacked for the bloody swaddle and you watched the flames swallow it, the heat licking your skin. Your mother was pale, her eyes empty as she watched the curl of smoke rise above, her morbid farewell to her child unborn.

It was the swords unsheathed that pulled your attention, your heart pounding at the sound of his voice: “I mean no harm, brothers.”

You swallowed your tears, watching as Erryk kneeled to the earth with his vow renewed. The setting sun gave an amber aura that reflected off the crown he pulled from his satchel, the same as King Jaehaerys’ and your grandsire after, the same that was placed on top of your mother’s head that commanded a rippled bow of respect from everyone around.

Back inside, any unease was settled once Princess Rhaenys spoke of how he helped her escape from the Red Keep. Your mother forced a smile, her pain still haunting her features. “Your vow is to me, and to my family. You are to keep them safe, like before, like always.”

And he nodded.

With war burning on the horizon, its imminent threat that would swallow the Seven Realms, there was no moment spared where you could speak of the life created. You kept it cradled to your chest when you saw how war-wearied Erryk was already. His heart had been cleaved in two and one-half remained in charge of the usurper.

It allowed a new desperation in the passion shared, a clash of teeth and tongues to taste whatever intimacy could be spared amidst the bloodshed. This ever-threat of life so fleeting is what pushed you to be bolder, which was why you were waiting for him outside the bathhouse one evening.

You reached as he moved past you, your fingers tucking into his waistband to pull him into the shadows. Your royal apartment had a path that weaved as an escape, and tonight you used it to bring him back with you, to allow a moment to forget the inevitable that was coming.

“Princess…” he started, but you stopped him with a kiss.

“I missed you,” you confessed against his lips. “I need to feel you.”

Your room was basked in candlelight and you pulled him through the passageway, turning to dip your hand below his waistband, your hand pressed on his half-hard cock. It pulsed against your palm and you moved closer to place a kiss on his neck.

He sighed his pleasure and his torment. “Princess,” he tried again, but you would not let him.

You nipped at his skin, halting his words, and he smothered a groan while your other hand pulled at his drawstrings. “Let me,” you breathed, and his skin rose in response.

He felt heavy in your hands that wrapped around him. You stole another kiss before your chin dropped to your chest, your spit falling from your tongue and onto his cock.

Erryk hissed as you stroked his length, watching as he jerked with another low moan. Your hand held onto his hip to lower to your knees, your other wrapping around the base and bringing his flushed cockhead against your tongue. You pressed a kiss and were rewarded with a groan that rumbled through him; your tongue trailed the side of his cock, feeling every vein and ridge, and you placed another kiss on the underside.

His fingers combed through your hair, watching as you pulled back to watch you take him inch-by-inch, with your hand holding onto what could not fit. His hips bucked into your mouth, bruising the back of your throat, and you groaned, a heat pooling between your thighs.

Your mouth and hand worked in tandem, working his cock until you felt it twitch with his pearly spend, his briny taste against your tongue. He shuddered, pulling back to sink to his knees, cupping your face and pulling you close for a messy kiss.

“My turn,” he whispered, standing and pulling you to follow, his eyes lust-blown.

You sank into the mattress and Erryk kneeled before you, an altar to be worshiped. His palm pressed to your cunt and his fingers spread your folds, allowing his tongue to run along your slit. You shivered as he pressed further, his tongue now carving into you with a well-known intimacy that made your toes curl.

Afterwards, Erryk curled into you and your fingers ran through his still damp hair, the occasional pause to press another kiss to his scalp. “I am sworn to you,” he was quiet, his voice barely above your heart beat. “But you are so much more to me.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. “I know,” you kissed your knight again. “I… love you too, Erryk.”

He hummed against you, burrowing into the softness of your skin. His words replayed in your mind, giving you the courage that you needed, but your mother already called you to her chambers the next night.

When you entered, she dismissed Ser Lorent, who locked the door behind him. Her eyes settled on you and your throat tightened. Her face was drawn, thinner, a woman shattered by all the blood spilled and plagued by the fact that more was yet to come.

You remained standing, waiting as her eyes poured over you. She took a breath before she said, “I already know.”

It was a relief, it was terror. Your stomach dropped and you looked to see Elinda busying herself with whatever her hands could find. Damn her. “I wished to tell you myself,” you admitted, your fists balled at your sides until your nails pierced through to the bones.

Her eyes steeled in return, her jaw set. “Who is he?”

Instead, you answer with, “I love him.”

“That was not what I asked,” she snapped in a way that both you and Elinda flinched with her words that were scalding with her anger. “Your queen asked who is the father of the child that you carry.”

But you saw her tears were threatening to spill, her face blotched with her anger. You pressed your hands to your stomach, the new habit formed over the last few weeks. “It is Ser Erryk Cargyll.”

She closed her eyes, a fury now thrumming. “I should have fucking known…”

“And how is it any different from what you shared with Ser Harwin?” You could not stop your tongue, her temperament reflecting.

“You truly wish to repeat the follies of my heart, you daft girl?” She hissed, her tears spilling. “We are on the cusp of a civil war because… I allowed my heart to choose instead committing to the duty that I am bound to by my blood, the very same within your veins.” Her hand pressed to her chest, a sob caught in her throat. “And that choice is the consequence that I now suffer every day.”

You wanted to glare, to fight back, but you saw her torment. Her tears spilling called to you and you moved to her bedside, melting into her. She fell into your arms with sobs that wracked her body. She held onto you and you remained, allowing her grief to pour over.

Behind, you heard the other door opening. Your mother looked up from your chest, wiping her face. “Ser Erryk?”

A cold-fire twisted into your stomach when you saw him, knowing at once that he was not the man you were in love with. The imposter knight stepped closer, unsheathing his sword. He sounded pained. “Believe me, I had no choice.”

“Brother!”

Over his shoulder, you saw Erryk, his sword drawn and his eyes wild. “Do not do this. I beg you.”

There was a clash of steel, of heartbreak and betrayal. Your mother screamed at Elinda, but she remained cemented to the cobblestone, stricken with her fear. She grabbed your hand to pull you from the bed, your legs buckling and your heart screaming to stay. You followed after your mother, remembering too late that the door was locked, and you looked over the room for a weapon, an escape.

Erryk yelled when the sword cut through his thigh.

Your fear pulled you outside of your body to see your hands resting to shield your stomach, the smell of blood rich in the night air. You prayed to the gods, a cursed habit, and again, they ignored you.

You blinked to focus. Arryk fell first, a sword splayed through his stomach, and you looked to Erryk, your relief fleeting when you saw the dagger buried between his ribs. He looked at you, his knees buckling, collapsing to the floor with the clatter of iron.

Your mother ran for the door, screaming for the maesters, for anyone to come and aid. You rushed to his side, your slippers slick in the blood that was pouring out on the stone, staining the pale silk of your nightgown. You lifted his head to rest on your lap, your trembling touch unsure if you could even staunch the scarlett flow.

“I cannot do this without you,” you pleaded, your hands pressing around the hilt; his blood bubbled between your fingers. “I need you, Erryk. Our babe needs you!”

Erryk looked at you as if you were the sun itself, a dawning realization that washed over with your words. Your heart wrenched from your chest when you looked at him, a choked sob when you saw the red that stained his smile.

His lips parted, but no words would come. Instead you watched as the blue of his eyes faded to gray with his last breath.

You leaned over him, your tears spilling, and you pressed a kiss to his brow, your blood-stained fingers gentle to cradle the head of your devoted knight.

hotd masterlist || arcie's navi

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #ser erryk x you #ser erryk x reader #ser erryk cargyll #ser erryk #erryk cargyll #erryk cargyll x you #erryk cargyll x reader

1K notes · View notes

lylian333 · 1 month ago

Text

~Yandere emperor x reader~

warning: read at your own risk, traumatizing, dark historical shits, noncon, force, many misunderstandings,sexual harrest , angst ,age gap, everything here is quite insane, historical au, he's fucking crazy, killing, insults, English is not my first langue(if there's any warning I didn't put, tell me)

words:2180

(this is not my art I found it on Pinterest, and in the comment section it's said that it was made by AI so💀)

Princess (y/n) Laurier has been best friends with Princess Alyssa Everett since you both were just 6 years old. You both have many things in common, such as interests, opinions, and much more.

You both would usually hang out around each other's kingdom; you don't have any issues with her except with her father, Emperor Edward Everett. He was the hottest, most handsome man you have ever met, and you still do now.

You have had a huge crush on him that felt like butterflies inside your stomach since the day you met him, but he always has that emotionless face and rarely smiles unless at his wife, your best friend's mother. You know this from Princess Alyssa; she would complain about how cold and serious he is.

You still ignore those and try getting to know him, but he just looks annoyed or just straight-up ignores you, but you ignore it and still continue liking him. Not only that, you're not the only one; it's obvious that everyone that has met him, females and even males, all drool for him.

You still have some sense in you, and you also have to respect the Everett queen and Princess Alyssa since she is your best friend. You can't just let some love ruin the relationship you both had. You can't. She is like a sister to you. She helps you when you're confused; she protects and defends you when you were getting laughed at; she is there when you needed someone the most. It's not worth losing a relationship like this, and so your liking toward his father slowly dies down.

But things change when you grow up and start having features and curves and in the end, you become a gorgeous woman, many people are jealous of you even Princess Alyssa confesses to you about it and some desperately want you. You reject all of them since none of them are worthy of you, and you're disinterested in them.

Your intense gaze and soft complexion, with your structured face and striking presence, are on par with an iconic beauty, paired with the warmth and softness in your expression, which are very delicate. You would struggle to not look at yourself when there is a mirror.

You still have some feelings toward Emperor Edward, but you manage to hide it and be able to not think about him when talking to him.

The worst thing that could have happened was that the Queen of Everett died from childbirth while trying to give birth to the heir to the throne, but it went to a disaster. It was devastating news to hear from everyone.

The emperor was absolutely devastated and even despised the child. From that moment on he would never talk to anyone unless it was part of a duty, but other than that he would ignore the servant's advisers and even his own kids, which left Princess Alyssa depressed since she had to bear her mother's death, her father's coldness, and the baby boy that her mother lost her life to.

That week she came crying to you when you came to visit her and attended the funeral of the Everett Queen death. You decide to stay at Everett Palace for a few months before going back to Laurier Kingdom.

You promised Princess Alyssa that you'd take care of her and her baby brother, and so you did. After all, back at your kingdom and your family, you have 6 siblings, plus you, and you are the third eldest, which makes you the middle You have experience with babies after the experience of you sibling that you swear are more naughtyer when you take care of them.

In those months of staying, Emperor noticed that you had to take care of the baby boy and Princess Alyass when he found you singing a lullaby for them to fall asleep.

At that moment something in him awoke, something dark, horrible, and disgusting. He knew this was wrong, but who was there to stop him? Not even himself could do that.

From that moment on, he would try getting close to you and getting to know you better; by that, he would call you into his office or into his chamber. When talking, he would get close to you, too close, to the point that he's invading your personal space by burying his face in your hair, breathing in that sweet, gentle scent, or sucking and biting your earlobe.

You knew this was wrong. You both knew this was wrong, but you guys still continued. Your brain keeps telling you to stop and that this is your best friend's father, but your gut tells you to continue. For your best friend Princess Alyssa's sake.

At one of those meetings, you confess to him that you don't want to continue these "meetings" to respect your best friend Alyssa and her baby brother Prince James.

But when he hears that you swear you could feel the air getting tense and his face looks tense as well, and with clenched fists, he looks like he could kill someone that might have been you or others.

He then pushes you onto his office desk and forcefully rips your clothes off. All you can remember that day was just horror, pure fucking horror. It haunts your dreams, memories, and everything that you see that can somehow be related to the day you and he were together.

The cherry on top is Emperor Endward sends an arranged marriage to your kingdom between you both; you pray that your parents would reject this offer, but no. Instead, they accept it and send you a letter telling you the reasons that this could help our kingdom very much and this could give you a better future and more, but all you care about is that you're trapped with him. They also added in that they would be unable to see because of the distance of the two kingdoms and that it is time to set you free.

Oh, how you wish it were true to let you spread your wings and have your own freedom.

You hated everything, mostly yourself. You hated yourself for not being more alert and not telling anyone, not even your own family or close ones; you—you can't even describe the feeling that you're feeling at that point. You quite literally were disgusted by yourself.

You cry all day long to the point where Princess Alyssa hears it and finds you, and you vomit out all the things that happened while still crying. You wish the earth could just eat you whole, make you disappear from the earth, from this world, from this life.

You keep pressuring yourself that this is your fault for days till your hair has a few strands of white hair that you have noticed.

The wedding was within the week, and you both got married and wed. That very day and night of the "honeymoon," he slams you against the bed carelessly and forcibly spears open your legs with his hand while another pins both your head on top of your head.

You whisper near your ear,True to be told, I have actually noticed that since you were just a little girl, you always had a crush on me, so technically you wanted this to happen, so don't cry like last time, dear."

Your eyes go wide when you hear that he actually noticed. He knows that you have no words—absolutely no words.

That night was as horrible and traumatizing as the night you both had together. Princess Alyssa personally tries to help you escape; even after the marriage, she still supports you, even knowing the fact you are technically her stepmother.

But she accepted you, and you were quite stunned at how she handled the situation. Even though it was like hell, she still helped, whether by holding you while you were crying or whatever she was still there. It felt like she was starting to take care of you instead of you taking care of her like how you first promised.

In one of the many attempts of you trying to escape and her helping you with it, you both were caught, and Emperor Edward decided to punish you by isolating you and sentencing Princess Alyssa to be beheaded, his own daughter.

And you were forbidden to give her any visits after the situation. You didn't get the chance to even give her the last hug or talk or anything, not even a goodbye. You even threatened to kill yourself if he didn't allow you to see her, but he just laughs at you and tells the guards to throw you inside a dungeon where there's nothing, not even a window, so you have to rely on the fire outside.

Just like that, she's gone forever. You cry for days and refuse to eat, sleep, or even drink. The king himself has to personally force-feed you so that you don't die. You even scream and beat him as hard as you can in rage whenever you see him, but he just stands there, not unbothered. You might as well think that he doesn't even care or feel anything anymore, no remorse, no nothing, just disgusting lovesick eyes looking at you.

"I just can't get enough of you, love~"

Your life goes on until you have had enough, like enough one more year of this. You seriously don't think you want to be reincarnated into another life. You desperately want to feel things instead of being trapped in the shared chamber all day long, only allowed to go out to the garden for 1 hour to get fresh air with a few ladies in waiting and your own trusted servants near you to keep being aware of you and make sure you're not doing anything harmful to yourself or escaping.

You came up with the stupidest and most shameful idea. You decide to frame yourself for cheating on Emperor Edward and confess to him that you cheated. Making up fake clues for others to notice and gossip about, but the emperor refuses to believe it, so you told him personally.

"I cheated on you, Edward."

"You must be joking, dear. How would you even be able to do that, hm?"

but you just keep repeating the sentence, "I cheated on you."

This makes him overthink and triggers him, and he ends up struggling with you to death in the process. You still keep repeating the sentence, which forces him to grip your neck even harder till you are no longer breathing—not even a single movement, just soulless eyes staring straight.

When he realized that it was too late and there was no turning back, he let go of your neck, and you collapsed onto the ground, dead. He kneeled down next to you; finally, at this moment, he felt guilty for everything. He reflected on the things he had done to you, the amount of damage. Why didn't he think about this earlier? Maybe that could help him.

No, it's your fault for cheating on him. How dare you filthy women cheat on an emperor that has done everything for her sake? To this day he still blames you, but part of him does regret not caring what you felt and thought. He only treated you like a toy, a glass doll that would easily be broken. But he just couldn't help but love you with all his might, even if it meant hurting you.

He tried to keep your body from decomposing and rotting and would soak you in water to slow down the decomposing. He even went mad and brought you to the throne room for events, dressed you properly, stuffed you with cotton to keep you looking more alive, and said to others, "My wife is doing well; look at her, she's such a sleepy head; look at her sleeping, hehe…"

Sadly, eventually, he had no other choice but to finally bury you because your body was decomposing and smelling really bad. At the funeral, he gives a speech on how she was in his life and how he can't believe she died before him from 'sickness' and oh how sad he was and how he saw her glowing up into an elegant woman and more.

Prince James also gave a speech about how you try helping out, that he always sees her as a mother figure, and how (y/n) has always tried her best. He was innocent in all of these; as well, he even balled his eyes out when he found out that you died.

At the very last moment of seeing your face, he cupped your cheek one last time.

"Oh, how much I will miss you oh how I wish that I could go with you as well, but it's fine you don't need to worry love In my will, when I die, I'm going to be buried right next to you." He says that while chuckling while feeling remorse.

omg, there are so many things I want to comment on but erm yeah this is how it is??? it could have been worse

1K notes · View notes

surielstea · 8 months ago

Text

Sweet Temptations

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel enters a bet with his brothers on who can go the longest without sex with their mate, Reader makes it hard for him to win.

6.2k words

I tread softly down the long hallway, following the golden tether connecting me and my mate. Shadows weave through my fingers and twirl up my calves, following at my side until I stop at a familiar door.

I creak open the private library's door and peer my head in only to find Azriel in a large leather chair that I would be drowning in if it was me who sat in it. He was lounging carelessly, a book between his hands as he flipped through the pages.

If he knew I was at the doorway he didn’t show it, just continued reading without a stir, he didn't look up to me either. So I took the opportunity to gawk at the beauty that is my mate, to admire his elegant features. It was no secret Azriel was the prettiest of the three-winged Illyrians. It didn't matter what your type was, my mate seemed to be able to make anyone flush bright red with a few words.

My gaze wandered over his complexion that I’ve admired countless times, those sharp cheekbones that seemed to be able to cut steel, his tousled black waves that drifted over his forehead, those hazel eyes rapidly scanning over the page of his book, and his golden skin that was fully on display due to him being shirtless, I was the culprit for his missing clothing, the soft black shirt draped over my frame, going down to my exposed thighs.

"I can feel you staring." He finally speaks and I startle but he still doesn't look up to me. I decided just looking wasn't nearly enough, because anybody could look at him, and I didn't want to be anybody, I wanted my hands on him the way only a lover could have. I step into the private library and close the door behind me. My steps are silent as I approach his side but again, he's still not sparing me a glance.

Something like envy makes me frown, being jealous over a book was foolish but Azriel's eyes were always on me. He is constantly observing me, silently watching no matter the circumstance. It was such a normal occurrence in our relationship that I had grown used to his eternal notice, not realizing how much I loved it until now, until this foreign attention-craving attitude took over my emotions that screamed look at me.

"Azriel," I sit on the armrest of the large chair, I feel pathetic being so desperate like this.

"Hm?" That's all he replies with, but he still won't look at me, why won't he notice me? It wasn't that I needed the attention. He could do his own thing I didn't mind, but I also didn't want to be ignored.

"I'm going to make some breakfast, do you have a preference?" I place a hand on his arm, tracing my nail over his tattoo, something I do so often that I don’t have to look at the tattoo to know where the inky lines are.

"Whatever you make will be good." He said, his words slightly clipped. I crease my brows but nod and place a kiss on his temple before sliding off of the chair. Perhaps he was just preoccupied with his thoughts.

I walk back to the door, giving him one last confused glance before leaving the library and aiming my way towards the kitchen.

I decided on making a breakfast quiche, something simple so I could mull over my thoughts while I baked. I learned the recipe from Rhys's mother so it comforted both me and Azriel I suppose, growing up in that house every winter when they weren’t preoccupied at windhaven held some of my favorite memories, as well as some of the worst. I mated with Azriel in that house, on my twentieth birthday it had clicked and we’ve been together ever since— but this was the first time Azriel has ever ignored me.

As I cooked I wondered what was going on with him, to be distracted over what he was reading I could understand, I've done that to him nearly a hundred times but the way he spoke almost sounded restrained? Like he needed to hold back from saying anything else or even doing anything else but sit there still reading.

I played the quiche once it was done on two ornate plates. I've always liked to cook, but the three winged males seemed to be against it when we were younger, saying that I didn't have to since we were in Illyria, that just because I was a girl didn’t mean I had to pick up that lifestyle. I had to make it clear to them that I wasn't their maid and I wasn't even Illyrian, it's not like I went around cleaning up after the messy boys anyway, in fact, Rhys’s mother gave them more chores than me, which has always irked Cassian.

"Az, food is ready!" I shouted down the hall and to my surprise he came down the stairs in mere seconds, without the book in his hands. "For you." I slid one of the plates over to him and he blinked down at it, still not looking at me as he carried them over to the table.

"My favorite," He hummed as I walked over to him and placed utensils beside his dish. "Thank you." He picks up the fool and cuts into his quiche. I frown. He usually kisses me after I make a meal for him, or at the least gives me a hug. I muffle a sigh and opt to lean down and kiss his cheek instead, then take a seat beside him in front of my own meal.

We ate in silence like always, but today it was slightly uncomfortable, not fully awkward, but just... off. The food was good and Azriel had it disappearing in minutes, at least he still likes my cooking. When I finish he collects both of our dishes and takes them to the sink where he'll wash them later tonight.

"It was delicious as always my love, thank you." He calls over his shoulder as he wipes his hands, but he doesn't look at me. I would do anything right now to get him to look at me.

I look at the wall of windows to my side and notice the sun rising, golden and pink hues painting the sky. "Don't you have training with Cassian today?" I ask, flitting my eyes back to him.

"Mhm, I'm going to get ready now." He says at the base of the stairs. My stomach twists anxiously, have I done something wrong? Why is he being so distant?

“Can I come?” I ask once he’s halfway up the steps.

“If you’d like to, get dressed,” He replies dryly and a frown tugs at my lips. He only talked to me in vague words, not weighing in on his own opinion on anything like I was used to, normal flowing conversation. And maybe I was in my head, but I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to watch my mate train under the golden sun.

I rush up the stairs and enter my shared bedroom, going straight to the armoire and finding a simple outfit. I pull a pair of pants on, I wasn’t training and only spectating but it’d feel wrong to show up to a training ring in a gown. I swapped out Azriel’s shirt that still clung to my body for a top that matched my flowing bottoms, the style reminding me of what Amren typically wore.

“Az can you tie me?” I approached his side of the bedroom where he was adjusting the siphon on his gauntlet. I turned around and held my hair up before he could reply, but instead of his hands that grabbed ahold of the strings it was silky shadows, cold against my bare back as they tied the strings into dainty bows.

He walked out of the room before they were finished and I chased after him, feeling pathetic while trying any ploy to get his attention but if he would just tell me what was going on I’d be willing to help him, but I couldn’t do that if he ignored me.

I intertwined my hand with his and he squeezed it on instinct, then quickly loosened his hold like he wasn’t allowed to show me any form of affection.

He wasted no time before shadow-walking us to the top of the house of wind where Cassian always trained with my mate. He doesn't say anything, just lets us slip into that darkness of realms. I cling to his arm tighter, just in case I fall into another pitch-black realm full of mysterious creatures. The darkness only lasted a mere second until we were on the roof of the mansion Az and I used to live in.

I steady myself with Azriel's arm but he doesn't return the movement, as if he didn't want me to be anywhere near him. I disband our arms as soon as I can stand on my own. I notice Cassian across the rooftop, Nesta beside him, seething so noticeably I thought steam might come from her ears. I walk over to the sitting area where the water station resides, Nesta following suit as our mates warm up with their usual movements.

I knew better than to ask Nesta why she seemed so irritated but when she sat right beside me I felt safe enough to say she wasn't mad at anything to do with me.

Nesta and I had become close friends while I resided at the house of wind, Azriel and I only moved out about a year after her and Cassian’s mating bond clicked. But during that time Nesta would often confide in me. When she felt she couldn't talk to Cassian but needed someone, anyone who would understand. I happened to be that person. It started with romance book recommendations the house hadn't already given to her, then moved to deeper things. Things like Tomas or problems she was having with Cassian, or even her struggles with the power from the Cauldron. However, there were still things she refused to talk about, her sisters for example.

"I'm going to kill him." She gritted out as the two males began to spar.

"Tell me about it." I huffed, staring at the warriors fighting so roughly, not their usual fluid movements. Like they needed to get an anger out that's been pent up. Sweat glistened off their tan skin, discarding their shirts minutes ago— not going past me or Nesta's notice. The golden sun beamed down on them like a spotlight as they battled, swords clashing and slamming down onto the others, they were uncontrolled and savage, so far from the routine maneuvers and clever counters.

"What'd he do this time?" I ask, propping my elbows on my knees and leaning my chin into my hands, boredom enveloping me with open arms.

"He's not paying any attention to me." She huffs and I freeze. "I went as far as to try and give him head this morning and he outright ignored me," Nesta grumbled, picking at her nails. My confusion doubled over.

"Azriel's doing the same," I mumbled, sitting up to look at her confused. "He won’t look at me and will barely even talk to me," I explain and she glares at the two men on the mat, her stare so deathly I thought lightning might strike down on our mates.

"There's no way they've turned celibate right?" Nesta creased her brows and I snort at the idea alone.

"Them two? No way." I shake my head, leaning back into my chair.

"Maybe we should contact Feyre, perhaps Rhys has something to do with this." I offer.

"The three of them always seem to be up to something." She glowered.

"I'll be right back unless you want to come to the River house with me?" I ask. She shakes her head no and I nod, understanding.

I winnow straight into the foyer of the River House. Feyre who was sitting in the living room looked more than pissed. She glanced at me but wasn’t shocked when I suddenly appeared in her home. "Is Rhys ignoring you?" I sigh and she nods with a frown. "Where is he?" I glance around the sitting room as if the High Lord might be hiding.

"Out with Nyx," She kicks the toddler's toy by her foot weakly.

"What the hel is going on?" I sit beside her on the couch.

"They're doing a bet." She rolls her eyes. "Who can ‘hold out’ the longest." She makes a quotation gesture around her words and I scoff.

"You're kidding." My jaw nearly drops.

"Nope. They thought it'd be the only thing they could beat Azriel at, so you probably have it the worst." She huffs. "Stupid Illyrian pride." The high lady uttered. I'm going to strangle my mate.

"So they’re doing a sex ban on each other." I scratch the back of my head in astonishment.

"Sounds typical." She hums.

"I'm going to fix this. We’re going to make them lose." I stand from my seat. "Put on your sluttiest outfit and get Nyx a babysitter," I order her, an idea blooming in my head. "They might be prideful but not even Rhys can resist a wanting female," I explain and a feline smile curves over her lips.

I had told Nesta the same as Feyre, dress in something her mate can’t resist her in, drive him mad. We both left training before it was over. The males didn't bother noticing so we didn't say goodbye.

I took my time in choosing an outfit. The idea of Azriel's pride being more important than so much as looking at me made me beyond furious. If he wanted to ignore me over a stupid bet then I'd give him a taste of his own medicine. I selected a lingerie set that was a cobalt blue, his favorite color to see me in, due to it matching the color of his siphons, it was some possessive nature to have me dressed in a color that so clearly connected me to him.

I put the set on, delicate lace and soft mesh that he's yet to see, the kind I know he loves to rip off. I put on a white nightgown over the garments, sheer enough to still see the sapphire underwear but also opaque enough to prompt curiosity. I leave my hair down, I don't mess with it at all. He likes it down, and likes to run his hands through it. Another thing I won't let him do until he admits to losing this stupid wager between him and his brothers. I put a thin garter on my thigh, the only blue piece fully visible.

I run my fingers along a shelf of perfumes, selecting the one I usually wore when we went on dates, reminding him of those nights he'd run the tip of his nose along the column of my throat and smell that insatiable scent. I sprayed it on me, but also misted his reading chair with it, he couldn't escape the thought of me if he tried. A devious smile curved my lips as I placed the perfume back into its rightful place.

The front door of the house opens and I freeze. I know it's him. I grin and exit our bedroom, padding down the stairs until I'm just across the hall from him. His hair was pushed back and he was still glistening in sweat. Gods, he looked so perfect it was hard to stay mad. But when he didn't bother glancing at me all that rage returned.

A shadow swirled up my thigh and I allowed it to travel around the garter. Another zipped toward me, curving around my waist as if to recognize what I was wearing. I smiled down at the dark tendrils and they zipped away, quickly returning to their master and brushing up his wings, those perfect and large wings I needed my hands on. Shadows curved around his ear, telling him all about what I was wearing and immediately his gaze snapped to mine.

Those hazel eyes finally came into contact with my own. And gods how nice it was to be seen again. I remained strong. I gave him a gentle smile and walked closer.

"What are you doing?" His eyes followed me, that familiar attentiveness I missed so much returning.

"What do you mean?" I tilt my head innocently.

"Why are you dressed like that." His hands fist at his sides and I allow his eyes to drift everywhere.

"The nightgown was a gift from the boutique in The Rainbow, on the house after I bought all those presents for solstice," I explain, the lie easy on my tongue, I had bought this for our anniversary which was only a few weeks from now, but seeing that utterly desperate look on his face made showing him earlier worth it. "Do you not like it?" I do a small twirl and his knuckles turn white as the dress flows up and reveals a portion of my underwear.

"It's see-through." He gritted out and I frowned, looking down at myself.

"Is it? I hadn't realized. It's hard to tell in the darkness of our bedroom I suppose." I shrug, looking back up to him.

"It's pretty, just wear a slip under it if we leave the house." He hums casually, then brushes past me and goes into the library. Anger simmers inside of me as I hear the door close. How had that not worked? How much more direct could I get?

I sigh and quickly follow after him. Opening the door and shutting it behind me. He sat in the leather chair, as expected, book in his hands.

I wandered the room absent-minded, peering at the shelves with curious eyes, plotting my next move.

I smile at the idea I get and begin reaching for a book far out of my reach.

“Az? Can you help me?” I mumble, but my reaching causes my dress to lift so when he looks over at me he’s met with the most tempting sight he had ever seen. His movements were rigid as he stood up, coming closer but I didn’t move out of his way, just continuing to jump for the book. “The green one,” I gestured to the dusty spine and he nods, easily grabbing it for me but once I stop reaching for it I settle flat onto my feet, the curve of my ass coming back to press against his hips. He let out a quiet, low grunt that I wouldn’t have been able to hear if he wasn’t right behind me.

I turn around to face him with a cheeky smile. He holds the book I had no interest in reading out to me, his white knuckling grip proof of his restraint.

“Thanks, Az,” I take the book and he nods with a grunt before going back to his chair, sinking into it with a slightly defeated demeanor, his pitiful expression making me smile.

I bound over to his chair, settling myself on the armrest, my legs draped over his as he continued to ignore me. I place a hand on his bare shoulder and begin massaging the tight area.

"You're sore Az," I mumble. "Maybe we should take a bath?" I tilt my head. His face remains stoic, but he is gripping his book like the edge of a cliff.

I move my hands lower, to his shoulder blade where I could knead the knot of muscle there. "What do you think? I'll even wash your wings." I brush my fingers over where his wings began at his muscular back. He jolted, his book slamming shut and his head whipping to me with a wide lust-filled gaze. "Is that a yes?" I chuckle. He only narrows his eyes, like a silent interrogation. "Az, I'm going to need some words." I place a hand on his cheek.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" He says through his teeth.

"Doing what?" My voice was innocent, if he didn't know any better he'd be buying it.

"I just know those training sessions are so long and hard, I thought it'd be nice to reward my mate." My selected words weren't helping his case.

“What do you know?” He says the words like a threat and I giggle nervously.

“Are you alright Az? You’ve been acting weird all morning,” I observe and a muscle in his jaw feathers as he tightens it shut, I run my fingers down that very jaw, feeling it flex under my touch as he attempts to read me. “Are you worried about something? You know I’m always willing to help you relieve your stress,” I hum, slowly slipping into his lap, straddling over his hips and his eyes just follow the action, admiring the way I fit so perfectly on top of him.

“No, love I’m fine,” He defends and I dip down, trailing kisses down his neck, finding his pulse point and swiping my tongue over the area.

“You sure, there’s nothing I can do for you?” I tease my hips over his erect length, painfully straining against his pants. I return to the area of his neck, sucking hard as he attempts a reply.

“No, I, fuck— love, I’m fine,” He curses and a smile curves my lips in triumph.

“Alright,” I pull from his neck. “If there’s anything you want me to do I’ll do it, okay?” I stress my words with a slight lift to my brows and he nods hesitantly. “I think I’m going to take a nap, why don’t you join me? It could help call your nerves?” I offer and he nods, thinking it a good idea to sleep through the rest of this stupid bet until one of his brothers gives in but by gods was he wrong.

I get off his lap and grab his hands after he sets his book down, pulling him up and then guiding him to our bedroom with an effortless sway of my hips they had his hands tightening on mine.

Once we were in the comfort of our bedroom he shut the door behind us and I let go of his hands in favor of grabbing the straps of my nightgown and dipping them from my shoulders, allowing the sheer fabric to pool at the floor, revealing my lingerie set to him entirely.

“What are you doing?” He grits through his teeth, I look back at him and I nearly laugh. He was backed up against the door like prey trapped in a lion's den. I smirk at him and crawl into our bed.

“That nightgown is too itchy to sleep in, this is much better,” I sigh and he swallows thickly, slowly approaching our bed like it might explode at any sudden movement.

He eventually strips down to his boxers and slides into the sheets beside me, I waste little time before throwing myself over him like a second mattress.

My legs intertwine with his, my arms wrapping around the back of his neck, my body pressed to his. He flexed at the feeling of my breasts brushing against his bare chest.

“Are you always this touchy?” He said and I asked, pulling him impossibly closer.

“You don’t like it?” I feign a pout and he pales, brows creasing.

“No, I’m sorry my love I just, I hadn’t noticed it until today,” He stumbles over his words, making my frown turn into a sickeningly sweet smirk.

“You’re so cute Az,” I mumbled, leaning up and pecking his lips tenderly. “I love you,” I whisper so softly that if he wasn’t so close he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. But he did, and it wasn’t the lingerie, or the perfume, or even kissing his neck that made him snap, no, it was those three words that he thought he’d never hear romantically, and I just gave them to him so casually he thought the world stopped spinning for a moment.

“Oh, fuck it,” He grumbled before crashing his lips onto mine, the tension leaving my body as he rolls over me and settles between my legs. His kiss was starving, like he couldn’t get enough, he had been craving me all day and ignoring that feeling but now it was all crashing down onto him at once and it was impossible to get enough. His kiss was all-consuming as his thumb came to my chin and opened my mouth manually, his tongue slipping inside without forethought. My tongue met his just as quickly, they didn’t battle but they danced around each other, a steady balance of give and take between us.

“You have no idea how much I need to fuck you,” He pants onto my lips and I smile.

“What are you waiting for?” I tease and he shakes his head.

“No, it’s not making love, I need to fuck you,” He warns and a primal part of me loves the tone of his voice, the neediness of his words.

“C’mon Az don’t be shy, fuck me already,” I plead and he moves from my lips down to my neck, his mouth mapping every expanse of skin he can find.

“You’re evil,” He sighs against my chest as I arch my breasts into his face.

“You ignored me all morning, you’re the evil one,” I claim and he smirks.

“I’m sorry baby, let me make it up to you,” He hums, then moves lower, so much lower until his breath was fanning against my inner thigh and he was leaving hickeys trailing up to my heat. His eyes glow golden as he looks up at me, pure lust as his expression.

"Please." I nod my head and he's like a fucking beast ready to have a full-course meal.

He wastes no time, not one second was I not being pleasured. Scarred fingers dip into the waistband of my panties, pulling at them with a force that makes them tear. His breath fans over my slick and I arch up, grabbing onto the sheets to keep myself steady.

He lifts a leg over his shoulder and a long swipe of his perfect tongue passes through my folds. It all happened so quickly, how soaked I was for him. I could feel him smiling against my cunt, as if he was craving the taste of me all day and finally got it on his tongue, his tongue that was swirling over my clit in tight circling motions.

I mewled, my back arching as fingers swiped through my sex, lubing himself with my ecstasy before entering two long fingers where I needed him most.

"Oh fuck," I breathed out, my head falling back against the shelf, it was all so fast, so needy.

"You’re so perfect like this, spread out like a good girl who can’t wait to be eaten," His baritone voice against the apex of my thighs reverberated up my spine making me shiver.

"Mhm," I nod helplessly, relishing in the feeling of his scars rubbing against my sensitive walls, those scars that added so much to the feel of his fingers inside of me, toying with that spongy bundle of nerves that was so relentless for more.

I moaned his name repeatedly, grinding down on his hand and his face as he sucked and licked at my clit. The stimulation was too much and I was hurdling toward a release.

"Az, I'm gonna—" My breath gets caught in my throat as he lays his tongue flat against my folds, his nose digging into my clit.

"I know baby, go ahead." Cold air fanned against my slick and my hands twined into his hair, forcing his face into my cunt as I ground my hips up onto his tongue, matching the thrusts of his fingers as that knot in the pit of my stomach tightened. He groaned at the feeling of me shoving his face into my heat, letting out a grunt as he ruts his hips down onto the bed, needing to be inside of me.

"Cum on my tongue." His voice was a demand, the kind of voice that made people fear him, the kind of voice that had me unraveling on his fingers, just like he ordered.

A string of moans escaped me, my head lolling back as euphoric waves crashed into me. He supported my hips since my legs were rendered useless from shaking too damned much. He gave gentle kitten licks to my now overstimulated cunt, allowing me to gently come down. He slowly lifted from between my thighs, slick coating his lips and he licked them clean, as if savoring the taste of me.

He brought his mouth to mine, allowing me to taste myself as I threw my arms around his neck carelessly, pulling his weight down onto me, needing to be entirely consumed by him as I sampled myself off his tongue.

“Fuck me Az,” I murmur.

“I won’t be able to control myself,” He shakes his head but I didn’t care, I needed more, needed his heavy cock sheathed inside of me.

“I don’t want control, I want you feral,” I beg and something primal sparks in his gaze, a slow smirk forming over his lips.

“On your stomach then,” He orders and my chest fills with both nerves and excitement as I do as he says, flipping over and hiking up onto my knees, my pussy throbbing in anticipation as I straddle my legs, my body forming a perfect crescent moon as I arched my ass up, arms supporting the rest of my body so I don’t fall into the pillows.

His hands come to my hips, dragging from my waist to my thighs, over the curve of my ass, then repeating. He was savoring the feel of me, the view I was so generously offering him.

The rustling behind me hinted that he had freed himself from his boxers and I was proven correct when his leaking tip pressed into my folds. I whimpered at the feel of his head running through the expanse of my pussy, pre-cum mixing with my arousal, the natural lubricant preparing him for his entrance.

He leans over me, his chest slick with sweat as his lips come beside my ear, pressing kisses to my shoulder. “You going to be good?” He hums and I nod with a whine. Shadows twine around my wrists, bounding them down onto the bed forcefully. “Three taps if it’s too much alright?” He says and I nod, closing my eyes in a slow blink, mentally preparing myself as he aligns his cock to my slit.

Slowly, he pushes himself in and I take every inch with a never-ending stream of euphoria. His movements started slow but he was right, he couldn’t control himself and his thrusts quickly turned impossible to keep up with.

A moan tore from my throat as he finally managed to stuff himself completely inside of me, his balls slapping against my sopping folds, the arousal dripping down my purple-marked thighs. “Az,” I mewl, throwing my head back as he continues his relentless pace, his thrusts rough and hungry and everything I had ever craved.

“M’yours, I’m all yours,” I sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the intense feeling of him nestled so deep inside of me. “That’s right, my perfect slut to ruin,” He grunts and my back bows into his chest at the words, making him hit me deeper. He curses and goes so much faster at the new angle, every other drive into me left a soft whimper slipping from his throat, his noises so quiet yet so close to my ear and allowing me to hear just how much I was affecting him.

I clamped down on his thick length, slowly grinding my hips down onto his, gradually growing quicker and meeting each of his thrusts.

If I thought he was savage on the training mats then he must’ve been untamable when pummeling every inch of him into my puffy pussy that pulsed at each movement.

“Gods, Azriel,” I scream his name, his pace relentless as my mind loses thought, becoming incoherent to anything but the way he shoved himself into me, past that bundle of nerves and kissing up against my cervix. A ring of my arousal formed on the base of his cock. “That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl,” He sighs, his breath fanning over the shell of my ear and making me squeeze around him, needy for more.

He loves the visual of me splayed out for him, swallowing his cock, hips clapping against mine each time he rams into me with an unmatched force, each of them landing perfectly on the tip of him grinding against the most sensitive part of me as I convulsed, my legs spreading wider as I sink lower, making his thrusts faster, harder. Tears roll down my cheeks as I continue to take it, taking all of him without hesitation. “Your perfect fucking pussy is so— fuck s’gripping me so tight,” He grinds out and I know from the underlying whine of his voice that he’s close, and thank gods for it cause I doubted I’d last another moment with my sanity.

“Az, please, please,” I cry, unable to say anything else as he continues to hit home every, single, time. “So full, Az,” I murmur, my head heavy with lust as he fucks me senseless. “Yeah? All you can think about is my cock, isn’t that right?” He purrs beside my ear and I nod fervently, agreeing to whatever he wants me to do, I just needed more.

Shadows listen to my silent request and brush down my stomach teasingly, feeling the way Azriel pumped into me so deep you could see him in my abdomen, the silky darkness curling downward and coming to my clit, making me gasp in ecstasy.

His fingers join his shadows, scooping through my folds and gathering my arousal before smearing it along my clit and then rubbing it harshly in tight little circles that left me defenseless. My entire body obeyed his touch as his ministrations continued. “Fuck, need to come Az, please,” I whine, feeling that coil tighten until it was bordering on snapping. “Come for me, wanna see you milk my cock,” He nips at my shoulder and thrusts forcefully inside of me, his head ramming into my cervix so very close to my womb, his fingers dig into my clit rougher, his calloused fingers providing so much more friction. Saliva pools in my mouth as my orgasm crests and I finally feel that immense relief I’ve been craving all morning. “I’m coming, m’comin—” I was cut off by a lewd moan, rapture surging up and down my body as I gush around his cock, white-hot pleasure consuming me.

I lay beneath him as I slowly come down from my climax but his movements don’t cease as I jolted in over stimulation, his shadows eased off my clit allowing relief but my pussy wasn’t given the same treatment, he continued to bury himself inside of me, harder, faster, deeper.

I whine, not daring to reject him like his perfect doll, clenching at the sheets as he ruts into my aching cunt. “Fill me up, Az, want your cum so bad,” I whimper and he smiles against my neck. “Yeah? Want me to fill this pussy up ‘til it’s leaking out? Stuff you full?” He asks and I mewl, lewd sounds rolling off my tongue without permission.

“Mhm,” I nod, writhing against the sheets at the intense feeling. I clench hard around him and he twitched, letting out a low grunt and without another warning, his warm seed released and spurted from his cock, into my cunt. He moaned, his sounds equally arousing as his movements inside of me. “You’re a fuckin’ angel, baby,” He pants, hands roaming along my waist as he slowly pulls himself from my slit, a whimper leaving my throat at the emptiness he left me with. He stares down at the apex of my thighs, where his cum seeped out of me, mixing with mine.

I flip onto my back and stare up at him panting with a drunken smile, my pussy throbbing as I come down from that stimulation.

I tremble as his fingers brush up my inner thighs, gathering any liquid that escaped me and then pushing them back into my cunt with ease. I gasped, my back arching, it was too much, it was all too much. And I loved every moment of it.

He lazily fingered my pussy, his languid movements making me babble in protest. “I know baby but we can’t let any of this go to waste, can we?” He hums and I shake my head no with a pout. “That’s right, m’ gonna fuck you all day, make you feel so good,” He said and my body tremors at the promise of his voice, and I knew immediately walking would be impossible tomorrow.

Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

Comment a “🖤” to be added to the Azriel taglist!

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @secretlyhers @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp @nyxbranwenn @dnfhascorruptedme @annamariereads16 @thisiskaylin @itsbonniebabe @mp-littlebit @nickishadow139 @thestartitaness @azswife @mommyofkittens @thesillyyogourt @its-me-meg @pruvii

2K notes · View notes

stilesmieczyslaw · 7 months ago

Text

Stubborn Longing

*****Minors DNI!! 18+ Only content. ***** Words: 8.5K Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female Velaryon/Strong reader Summary: Aemond swore that one day you would be wed. When the time actually came you wanted nothing to do with him and his prejudices. Slowly you remember how close you used to be. Warnings: Targcest, Sex (P in v), masturbation, grinding, enemies to lovers? Friends to enemies to lovers? Slightly OOC Aemond. Lots of background filler and time jumps before the smut, smut. Loss of Virginity. Slight mention of blood. Fingering One swear word. No use of Y/N (If I miss anything let me know) The author is dyslexic and apologises in advance. AN: I'm a Daemon girlie. But somehow I've been sucked into Aemond girlie territory. I can't get enough of your beautiful writing and fics... And edits. You're all fantastic and I hope you enjoy. Read my other unrelated fics here

You were the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Your hair was brown and curly. Your complexion looked nothing like your father's. Yet still you thought nothing of it. You had fond memories of laughing in the gardens with your father. Chasing him around trees and getting dirty, sneaking extra pieces of cake from the dessert table. Your mother would sometimes scold you both but she also encouraged it. If the people at court saw you playing with Ser Laenor then maybe they wouldn't question it.

You also had fond memories of your mother. You didn't understand what was wrong but there were some days, when she thought she was alone where she anxiously played with her fingers, absentmindedly staring into the fire. Tears at her water line but never shed. You silently wandered over to her and put your head on her knee. The first few times shocked her but now she grew accustomed to it. She stroked your hair and you drifted off. You woke again in your room unknowing how you got there.

You don't remember your younger brother Jace being born. He was just always there. But some days he was boring. He just lay there in his bed - which was unfair. Why was he allowed to sleep in mother and father's room while you slept in the next one?

The only other children to play with were your Uncles and Aunt. They had white hair just like your mother, father and grandsire. Your eldest Uncle, Aegon, sometimes would play but sometimes would be dragged away for lessons as he was older than the rest of you. Helaena your Aunt always seemed to prefer the company of bugs. Always finding somehow the biggest. Although custom would say you would spend your time with her. You were of similar ages.

But secretly you'd always spend time with your uncle Aemond. It started off as games you'd play together. Although his mother disapproved of these games. Or more so you. She was worried her son would get too attached to the bastard children. She could not let this happen. But what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. As you got older you'd find yourself alone with Aemond reading books. Both of you wanted to learn. More than what was expected of you. You'd teach each other High Valyrian.

Aemond was your best friend. You'd spend all day with him if you could but he had to learn to fight while you had to learn to be a wife.

"You should be my wife," Aemond said out loud after you had returned from one of your lessons. "Us?" You scoffed. He looked at you offended. "I did not mean it like that." You waved him off. "Your mother hates us being friends. Never mind us being wed." "Well, I was taught a good wife should know her husband. Who knows me better than you." "That is a good point and I wouldn't have to leave Kings Landing." You nodded. "But I'm sure your mother would try to find you someone else anyway." "What if I could convince her?" "You won't." You almost sang looking down at your book.

After the birth of your third brother Joffrey, your mother announced you would not live in Kings Landing anymore. A third child who did not look like her husband. What did it matter? Their father was their father and they all looked like each other. Did white hair matter when inheriting the throne? Apparently, it did. Your mother gathered all of your belongings while you begged her to stay.

You were to live on Dragonstone. To which you were the heir. You might as well get used to it now. When your mother becomes Queen it will be your home and when your brother becomes king it will remain your home. You went to find Aemond for one final goodbye. You sat in the woods with him, underneath your shared tree. "You'll be back." He said rather confidently. "Will I?" You looked up at the castle. "When we wed." "You are a fool Aemond. But I admire you for it."

With your absence, his mother spoke more freely about your heritage. You were not your father's daughter. Aegon heard the rumours of Ser Harwin Strong. Aegon passed this knowledge to his brother. Aemond wondered how you could be the product of something so wrong. The more he heard it the more he hated it. How dare a bastard be his friend? Poison words enter the heart of a child so easily.

Your father's sister died and the whole family were called to Driftmark for her final send-off. While you were sad for your father you tried to contain your excitement to see Aemond again. He had stopped replying to your letters. Maybe he was deep into his studies. When you finally saw him after months of missing him you couldn't help but run to him and hug him. His hug was stiff but you ignored that.

"How is your plan going Aemond? Our marriage." You asked. "I miss Kings Landing." Part of you was joking, the other secretly hoped. You had missed him terribly. "If that's all you miss then maybe we should not get wed." The words were filled with hate. "Oh." You frowned. "It was a childish dream. I see now it does not matter. When I marry it must be for duty." "For what end would our marriage be then?" "It does not matter." He turned away from you.

For the rest of the night, you tried to talk to him again but he avoided you. You searched the castle on Driftmark for him and you found him at the wrong moment. You could hear the shuffling of a fight. You saw your brothers, cousins and Aemond fighting. "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did...Bastards!" "Aemond." You gasped. He turned to look at you. Horror in his eyes. He didn't mean for you to hear that.

Your younger brother Luke took Aemond's moment of distraction to swipe at Aemond with a knife, taking his eye. He did not mean for the injury to be that bad but the past could not be rewritten. You shouted for help while Aemond lay on the floor bleeding. You were pushed away by The King's guard. Aemond's eye was lost and with it your friendship.

The Queen wanted your brother's eye in return but your mother would never let that happen. But the Queen was determined. Her son lost something, so something must be taken in return. The King had a brilliant idea - Only in his mind. He proclaimed once you came of age. You and Aemond were to be wed. Something which this morning you would have taken with glee. But now you looked at the boy and glared. You hated him and by the look in his remaining eye. He felt the same.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Mother." You tried to get her attention. She was rushing around in a panic. "Mother please." "We must prepare for the journey. You are to be wed tomorrow and nothing is ready." "If we do not go then we do not need to be ready." You tried. "Your King demands it, my love." She sighed. "The King... Does not know me. Not anymore." You held your tongue. You had more choice words that you would not utter in front of your mother.

"Your Grandsire was there the moment you were born. The look of happiness in his eyes as he held you for the first time." "And yet he strives to take my happiness." "You and Aemond used to be so close. Maybe you can be again." She tried to remain positive. You shook your head. "No. Not after what he called me. The disrespect to my father. Who won't even be here to see his daughter sold like a..." You bit your tongue again.

"Sweet girl." Your mother played with your hair. She was nervous. Something was eating at her mind. "You may be husband and wife to the outside walls but you can control what happens behind closed doors. If you do not wish to be with Aemond in private you do not have to be." She didn't say it but you knew what she was saying. You nodded in understanding.

The flight to Kings Landing wasn't a long one. You were on your dragon silently crying. This would be the last flight you would take with your family for a very long time. Your brothers flew in circles trying to make you laugh. You closed your eyes and listened to their laughter trying to keep it in your memory forever.

Once landed and your dragon seen to, you looked up at the Castle. It did not look how you remembered. Nor did the people inside. Your Grandsire looked more tired and old than you last saw him. Helaena was the mother of two small children. Aegon looked like he was fighting back a smirk and Aemond... Aemond had grown so tall. His eye patch suited him and he looked at you with distaste. You tried to meet his gaze of fire with your own but you couldn't hold it. You hated it. You hated him.

The day came and your Mother and Step Father officially gave you to Aemond. Your hands were tied and you uttered words that had no meaning to you. You sealed your marriage with a kiss. You kept your face neutral no matter how much you wanted to scream. The crowd cheered as you walked through them with your husband.

There was a giant feast in your name. Food from all corners of the seven kingdoms was presented and music played. You found yourself dancing with your brothers. Your new sister Helaena. Even your Stepfather danced with you. Your mother stayed to the side. Her pregnant belly was only a reminder of the life you were going to leave behind. Were you to have a new brother? A sister? Would you know their laughter? Would they know your face?

The music slowed and the King announced that it was time for you and Aemond to dance before retiring to your marital bed. Aegon laughed loudly. You danced the dance your mother taught you. Move after move. You felt numb. This was the worst night of your life. Whispers filled the room. You ignored them. You knew now why your mother sat and looked into the fire looking sad. But unlike your mother, you would not receive comfort. Not here.

When you reached Aemond's, no, your chambers... Your blood which was supposed to be made of fire, turned to ice. You did not wish to lay with your now husband. It might have been your duty but you did not wish it. The torment he brought you and your brothers. Calling you Bastards. Your mother said you did not have to, but what if Aemond expected it of you?

Aemond stood behind you. His beautiful wife. He had wanted this for so long. He knew he had wanted you as his Lady Wife since he was a child. He let his mother's hatred into his head and he had regretted it every day. Not just because he had lost his eye over it but he lost you too. He would never forget the look on your face when he called you a Bastard. The last thing he saw with both eyes. He lost you.

When he saw you arrive on Dragon back his breath was taken away. You had become a beautiful woman in the years you had spent apart. How he longed to write to you but he knew his letters would go unanswered, just as yours had done those years ago. When he saw you again it only reaffirmed his want of you. But he could tell by the tears running down your face this is not what you wanted. So he hid behind his cold demeanour. One that he was used to, one that people expected of him.

As much as he desired you, he knew you did not feel the same. His own family did not want him so why would his now wife be any different? He could not remember the last time someone touched him with kindness. Not even a hug. His mind flashed back to when his brother forced a whore onto him and he vowed to never do the same.

He spoke finally, knowing you wouldn't. "I won't touch you. Not unless you ask." "I will not ask. Ever." You replied coldly. You walked off behind the divider to put on your night clothes which had been brought over by the handmaidens. It was difficult to get out of your marital gown but you refused to ask for help. Not from a man who would call you a bastard. Not from a man who claimed you like property.

Once in your night clothes, you walked straight to the bed. It was freshly made but you could tell by the items surrounding the bed which side Aemond would sleep on and you chose to climb into the opposite side. Not long after Aemond joined you.

It was strange seeing a woman in his bed. He didn't hate you. He remembers only fond memories of your childhood. Times he was bullied by his own brother and yours. You would be there to console him. Make him laugh again. It was foolish to think after all these years you could pick up where you left off. As friends.

He climbed into his side. The both of you almost hung onto the side to ensure neither of you touched the other. You both did not sleep out of fear of doing such. You both were angry and you both were saddened. The following morning continued in silence. Your handmaidens helped you dress. They ignored the lack of maiden's blood on the bedsheets. You trusted them not to gossip but you couldn't be certain of that.

You made your way to break your fast with your family. It was almost like a mini feast again. How any of you still had room after last night you would never know. But you filled your plate with grapes, strawberries and other sweet fruits. Your mother greeted you with a smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Aemond watched with jealousy. His mother would never treat any of her children like that. Not even when he lost his eye did she offer comfort. She only wanted revenge. He sat down and loaded his plate with whatever.

"I see the tiredness in your eyes brother. Did you remember where to put it? It has been a long time since you last used it. Surprised it hasn't fallen off with neglect." Aegon very loudly teased. "Aegon!" His mother scolded, looking around with embarrassment. You scooted your chair closer to your mother.

Soon midday came and it was time for your family to leave. Their dragons were saddled and their things packed. Your own dragon looked at them with confusion. Why was she being left behind? It did not help that she could also feel your own emotions of abandonment.

"Mother please." You tried one last time. Tears filling your eyes. Kings Landing had not been your home in years. The last time you lived here your father was still alive. How could you walk the gardens knowing he wasn't here, waiting for you to find him? "I'm sorry my dear." She shook her head. "It is too late. Your vows were before Gods and King. I can not part you as much as I wish to. Your souls are bound." She gave you one last hug before tending to your brothers making sure they were ready.

Your Stepfather watched with a frown. Knowing what it was like to be in a forced and unloved marriage. He took your hand. A very rare form of affection from him. "Say the word and I shall end this marriage for you." He looked into your eyes looking for understanding. You had heard rumours of his first marriage. It was said among court he had killed her. "Thank you, Uncle." You gave a concerned smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

You watched with tears in your eyes as your family flew away on their dragons. Your dragon roared after them. You patted her neck and hugged her. She is what was left. You did not go to your lord husband for comfort. You did not go to anyone for comfort. You stayed alone.

Your handmaidens would fetch you food. You didn't want to leave your chambers. Were you acting like a child? Maybe but it felt like your only option. Rumours spread amongst the small folk that the high towers had imprisoned you with shackles.

The King, your Grandsire, would call you to his chambers. You sat in silence. You no longer knew the man in front of you. "I remember." He said very laboured. "You'd sit on my lap and help me build my masterpiece." He gestured to his miniature stone version of Old Valyria. A place neither of you had been. "You'd laugh at my jokes. Tell me Princess, what happened to your smile?"

"I have no reason to smile My King. I miss my family." "Am I not family?" The way he looked at you. An old man trying his hardest to keep his family together. He, just like you missed his family. His daughter, his brother and his grandchildren. He was bound to this place just as much as you were.

"Of course you are... Grandsire." You gave him an honest as possible smile. Far from the sparkle of happiness, he was used to. But better than nothing. "This was once your home, we, your closest friends, allies, confidants. We can be again if you leave your chambers. Walk the castle. Eat with us. Read with the maesters." "Yes, My King." You bowed.

You started off small. You would venture to Helaena's chambers. Eat with her and her children. You played with them and told them stories. They didn't understand your words. But they brought you much comfort in this time. Helaena also seemed to enjoy your company. Or more so did not despise it. Sometimes she would listen to your stories too. You loved the three of them. "Third draw. Left dresser." Helaena would mumble. The first time she said it you thought she was asking for something. But when you showed her everything in the drawer she would shake her head.

Then you would venture to the books and scrolls. Another place of your childhood. Piece by piece you were learning to smile again. At least in public. You still hung onto the edge of your marital bed. Trying to escape without falling.

One particular hot day you realised you could not stay inside. It was time to venture outside. Feel the wind blowing on your face. Picking up your book you followed your feet to your favourite tree. How you would spend hours reading underneath it. How your feet remembered the way while your mind did not, you did not know.

You followed them and gasped when you saw him. Of course. It was his favourite place to read too. While you had left this place he had not. He rolled his eye when he heard someone coming towards him. Normally it was some handmaiden telling him his mother required his attention. He just wished to read in peace.

He looked up and saw you. Book nestled on your hip like it was a babe. His mouth went dry. You remembered the tree? "I'm sorry my Lord." You gave him a practised bow. "I did not realise someone else would be here. I did not intend to disturb you. I shall take my leave." "Wait." He called to your quickly retreating back. "You need not leave." You turned to look at him. "The tree is big enough for us both to sit." He gestured to the floor.

You hesitated. You really did love that tree. The tree never hurt you. In the wind, you could hear Aemond's laughter. His face was void of emotion but you could hear his childhood laughter. "Yes, My Lord." You finally agreed sitting down. The tree separating you. Neither of you reading but thinking of the other person sitting on the other side.

You both continued this new tradition for days. Maybe after the second week silence was broken. A squirrel ran past you. You gasped with delight at the tiny creature. You stayed as still as possible to not startle it. "Aemond." You couldn't help but whisper. It was so quiet he almost didn't hear you. He turned to see what you needed. It must have been dire for you to talk to him after two weeks. He followed your gaze and saw the creature that brought so much light to your eyes.

He remembered how much you loved the squirrels of the gardens. For one of your name days, he vowed to catch you one but failed to do so. But he enjoyed the laughter he got out of you in the process. "Shall I catch it for you Princess?" He offered. "No. I think he shall miss his family if you do. Leave him be." He didn't fail to catch the double meaning of your words. How was he living his dream when you hated him so?

As more time passed you both found yourselves not sitting on opposite sides of the tree but closer to each other. Even in your bed, you felt more relaxed. You were starting to get used to life again but you still missed your family.

A raven came telling you the news of your new baby brother. Your heart almost burst with happiness and sadness in equal measure. You wished to go to Dragonstone to meet him but you couldn't. You must remain here with your Lord Husband... who must have a quill somewhere in these chambers!

You scrambled around looking for anything to write back to your mother with. Words of congratulations and excitement. But, you could not find anything. You went to his personal bedside dressers. It felt wrong to go in them. These were his personal effects. You would go mad with rage if he looked at your things. But you really needed to write to your mother.

You looked at the two dressers. Left dresser, the third drawer down. You opened the drawer and there was writing equipment but also old pieces of parchment. Curiosity got the better of you. They were your old letters. From when you first moved to Dragonstone. Letters you never got replies to. You laughed at things you once thought so important you needed to tell Aemond.

Beneath your letters, there was one you didn't recognise. You knew the writing, it was Aemonds. The letter was addressed to you but you never got it. He speaks of regret of his words to you on Driftmark. How he wishes to become friends again before you are wed. So many words are scribbled out. If he felt this way why not send it? Maybe you could have worked on something rather than marry in hate. Who knows where your relationship could have been if he had sent this? You borrowed an empty piece of parchment and wrote your letter to your mother.

"Hello, Aemond." You greeted sitting down beneath the tree. He looked at you puzzled. You never greeted him. "Princess." He gave a nod of acknowledgement. You almost felt giddy. Even if Aemond wrote that apology letter years ago part of you hoped he still meant it now. You sat in your usual silence but you could not wipe the smile from your face. Aemond opened his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. "What has gotten your spirits up?" You looked at him with a smile. You meant this one. He could see it in your eyes.

"Mother has given birth to a son. I have another brother. I feel much happiness for her." That and his unsent letter but to tell him that would be admitting you went through his belongings. "Oh yes. I heard." He nodded. At least this one wasn't likely to be a... He stopped his own thoughts. No. You were his wife. Your parentage did not matter. You had gone back to your reading but he could not get back to his. He couldn't take his eye off your smile. He hoped he could make you smile like that again.

Another week had passed and you felt yourself become restless again. You had now been in Kings Landing for a handful of months. The Queen still did not speak to you unless she absolutely had to. The King was growing ever weaker. Aegon was a drunken fool. Helaena was sweet but you wanted to do something else. Not sit inside. Not sit and read a book. You thought of your poor dragon. It had been too long since you had seen her. Your one memory of your home on Dragonstone and you had been neglecting her out of selfishness. Today you would take her out.

But you could not leave the keep without permission. They say it is for your safety but you knew it was to stop you from running away. With a deep breath, you went to find your husband. This time every day he would be training in the courtyard with the knights. You walked to the courtyard where he had amassed a group of people. People always wanted to watch him but you never understood. What was the point in watching the same people fake fight every day at the same time?

You watched him fight off the knights with ease. Despite only having one eye it did not stop him from having reflexes that could rival 20 knights. His fighting was almost like a dance. Every step calculated. His footwork working side by side with his arms. Sword going exactly where it needed to go. He was sweating and you could see his muscles working. Maybe you could see the point in people watching him fight.

The fight ended and Aemond fought to catch his breath. In the crowd of people, he saw you. You would only be here if you needed something. He sheathed his sword and made his way over to you. There was something about him breathless and sweaty with his gaze focused on you. It made you feel some strange way. Nothing you had felt before.

"Aemond." You were almost breathless yourself when he was finally in front of you. "I would like to go for a ride." He pulled almost an amused face which was lost on you. "The Dragon keepers say my dragon has grown restless. I need to go for a ride." "She grows restless. Or yourself?" He mused. "Both. So may I?" "As you wish Princess. But allow me to accompany you." "Oh no. I wouldn't want to take you from your schedule." You tried to wave him off.

"A good husband always makes time for his wife. Especially if that request is a ride." He almost smirked again. "What is so funny?" "Nothing." "It's something. I'll get it out of you Aemond Targaryen." You pointed a finger at him like old times. "I'm sure you will." He let out a small chuckle. He went to link his arm with yours to walk you to the Dragon Pit, but remembered his vow. Do not touch. One playful conversation in weeks does not mean that changed.

You got yourself ready for your ride. Making sure that everything was fastened tightly. You hugged your dragon apologising it had been so long. When she put her head on top of yours you couldn't help but think of your mother. She would always be with you.

"Are you ready Princess?" Aemond's voice called out. You looked over and saw him ready to climb onto Vaghar. How he managed to claim her as a boy you would never know. You nodded. You got on your own dragon and urged her forward. She almost ran for the door. Once in the air, you felt free. Freer than you had in a long time. There was nothing but you, your dragon and the air.

Well... and your husband but he was flying lower. You could see for miles. You turned your head in the direction you knew to be Dragonstone. What were they doing? How were Joffrey's lessons going? How faired your mother and the babe? How easy it would be to fly back to them. But you could not. You would bring shame to yourself and your family.

Aemond watched you. He always found himself thinking back to his childhood with you. How you had a dragon and he did not. How you'd promise him that you could fly together one day. And here you were flying together now. But again it was not how he imagined.

You looked down and almost laughed at how small Aemond looked compared to his dragon. His legs straddling the saddle. The way he used his legs to steer the direction he wanted to go. An image flashed in your mind of him straddling you. You shook your head. Where did that come from? The same feeling from the courtyard entered your mind. That strange feeling. You felt yourself move uncomfortably.

"Are you alright Princess?" Aemond called out to you. "Yes quite well. I must have not ridden in so long my legs grow tired." "Shall we retire?" He suggested. "Yes, I think so." You agreed before returning to the Dragon pit.

"Thank you for today Aemond. I appreciated it. If I ever require your services and a ride." You paused waiting for his reaction. "I'll let you know." You don't know why you did it, but it felt so right. Walking away you made sure to sway your hips more than you usually would.

More days passed and you found yourself watching your husband train from a balcony. Always that feeling came to you. What was it? You changed your posture, your thighs rubbing together and something felt good. You did it again and you had to bite your lip. You excused yourself to your chambers. You lay on your bed rubbing your thighs together and it felt amazing. A knock on the door pulled you from your playing and you felt embarrassed. Whatever that was, it was not fit of a lady.

But still, you could not help yourself. From those days on you would excuse yourself while Aemond trained. He would be gone for a few hours every day and in those hours you explored your body. You found all sorts of spots that made you feel good. One day while touching yourself an image of Aemond popped into your head. You imagined your hands were his and your pleasure doubled. You looked at the door longingly hoping he would come in and find you like this but he never did.

After that, everything he did drove you crazy. Even he slouched on a chair drinking from a goblet you wanted to climb onto his lap. You wanted a ride. You wanted one so badly.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You woke first. All night you had dreams of Aemond touching you. There was an ache between your legs that wouldn't go away. You tried pressing your legs together in hopes of something eliminating the feeling but you couldn't. You couldn't touch yourself with him just there. You wanted him to touch you. All you had to do was ask. But what if he didn't want to anymore? What if he had grown accustomed to your mental absence that he did not wish to be with you? You wouldn't blame him.

Images of him fighting in the courtyard filled your mind. His skill and passion. How sweaty he sometimes got. The way his hair would stick to his forehead. This wasn't helping you. It was making it worse. He was still sleeping soundly next to you. Maybe if you got a bit closer.

You remained on your side facing away from him. For if he woke up you could claim you moved in your sleep. You backed up slowly. You could still hear his deep breathing meaning he was still asleep. You backed up until you could feel his breath on your neck. It sent shivers down your spine. You still did not touch him, however. Now you waited.

It felt like an eternity but eventually, his deep breaths stopped. You obviously had no idea when he opened his eyes as you were facing away from him and also pretending to sleep. But you did hear his involuntary gasp when he noticed how close you were. He did not make a move to touch you but he also did not shy away.

He looked at your sleeping form. You were so close to him. He looked down and saw each of your curves beneath the sheets. He wanted so badly to run his hand down you. Starting from your shoulders, past your stomach, around your hips and your legs. That is when he noticed. It wasn't even his first thought when he saw you this close but now it was his only thought.

How close your ass was to his crotch. His trousers were already tight with it being morning but even more so now. If only you were a small bit closer then he could feel you pressed against him. He could rub himself on you. Your night shift let his imagination run wild. He clenched his fists to his sides. He promised he wouldn't touch you. Maybe he could sneak away. Deal with himself before you wake up. If you noticed and questioned his absence then maybe he could claim early morning training.

Before he could move you grew bored of this position. He had been awake for several minutes and had not made a move. You commended him for keeping his word but his word was not what you wanted right now. You wanted anything but his word. Keeping up the pretence of sleep you turned so now you were facing him. You wished you could have seen the look of shock on his face. If the view from your behind was anything the front was better.

Your hair was a mess. Soft brown curls were on your pillow and over your face. He remembered others calling you names because of your hair but he now knows it is perfect. It is a part of you. His eye travelled further south and landed on your breasts. The position you were in was pressing them together. His fists were almost shaking with how tightly he kept them to his sides.

He closed his eye and began to talk to himself in his own mind. 'She does not want you. She made that clear. She does not want to be touched by you. She wanted a different husband. A different husband who she would have let touch her. A husband who wasn't you. A husband who would know what she felt like... what she tasted like. Does she know? Does she touch herself when I'm not around? Who does she think of? Some lord? Some stable boy who smiles at her every day?' He grew jealous of his own thoughts and opened his eye to be free of them.

When he did he saw your eyes were open. You were looking at him. You had spotted how close you were and you did not recoil. He could see a hint of anger in your eyes. He should have moved away the moment he got the chance but he couldn't. He was so transfixed on looking at you and now you were angry.

He went to back up from you and you moved closer. This puzzled him. "Aemond." Your voice called to him. Far too awake for someone who woke up less than a minute ago. Unless you weren't asleep. "Yes." He answered like a million thoughts were not running around his head. "Touch me. Please Aemond." You almost begged. He was in shock for a moment. Maybe he was still dreaming. The look in your eyes, wasn't anger, not anymore. Your pupils were dilated. He noticed you rubbing your legs together. This was happening.

"What?" He knew exactly what you had said but he wanted to hear you say it again. "Aemond I would like you to touch me. Please. Touch me." You lifted your hand and ran it down his face. He slowly lifted his own hand and placed it on your waist. His eye closed. He had waited so long for this moment.

You sat up from laying down. His hand fell from your waist. His eye shot open. Surely that couldn't have been what you wanted? For him to touch your waist once and be done. He hadn't upset you, had he? His worrying thoughts were gone the moment you swung your leg around him so now you were straddling him. Your bed shift scrupled around your hips. Your legs bare to the side of you. He was reminded that there was nothing under your shift. The only thing separating the two of you were his own clothes.

You both looked at each other frozen in that moment. You had no experience in this field but something drew you to sit in his lap like this and you were glad you did. You could feel every inch of his outline against you and it felt good. But what now? Aemond saw the look of innocence on your face and almost came right there. With both hands, he held onto your hips and dragged you forward. The noise you made would stick with him forever.

It was a mixture of shock and pleasure. You felt a little embarrassed at it. A lady should not make that noise. Before you could say anything Aemond did it again earning the same noise. It felt so good. Maybe if you just... you dragged your own hips forward without his direction and it felt just as good. "Aemond." You said suddenly not knowing any other words. Any you did know were gone.

He sat up changing the position you were in. His chest was pressed against yours. You looked at him under partially closed eyes. You rocked your hips again and your eyes closed fully at the new sensation. Who knew him just sitting up would feel so different to him lying down?

He called out your name and you looked at him. He pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you want this?" He tried to confirm. "Truly." You nodded. He let out a laugh. "I want to hear you say it." "I want you. I want you so bad Aemond." You almost sounded like you were whining. "I have for a while now. I need you." He smiled at you wickedly before his grip on your waist became like iron before it travelled to cup your ass. From this new position, he ground you against him faster and more forcefully. Your eyes rolled backwards as your jaw dropped open.

He placed kisses on your neck enjoying the sounds you were making. He had dreamt of these sounds but they sounded so much better in real life. He nipped and pulled at your flesh with his teeth. His lips went lower but to his dismay, you were still wearing clothes. While your shift had fallen slightly to reveal your shoulders he wanted more than that.

He lifted his hands from your behind and held the edges of your clothes. He looked at you almost asking for permission. You nodded and he pulled it over your head. Now you were in front of him completely exposed. Your nipples hard and the mess you made on his trousers. Wet from where you had been grinding against him. He was in awe of your beauty. You almost hid yourself away from him but before you could he latched his mouth onto one of your nipples which earned him a brand new sound.

He placed one of his hands back into position getting you to grind on him again while the other played with your other breast. You were his. His wife. And the sounds you were making were his too. "Aemond." You called out to get his attention. He looked at you. His own spit coated his lips. He looked so good right now. Although his hair wasn't stuck to his forehead yet. That is what you wanted.

You took his hand from your breast and guided it between your legs. He had seen women at the brothel do this but he didn't know why. You lead his fingers to a sensitive spot and with your guide, he began to rub that spot. "Fuck." You moaned out arching your back. He watched your face crumple up. "How did you know to do that?" He teased going faster. "Have you been touching yourself? Not very ladylike." You nodded. "Tell me. What were you thinking of?"

Your cheeks immediately flooded red. Him. Always him. "Hmmm." He probed for an answer getting faster and faster. "You." You couldn't catch your breath. "You Aemond." You practically shouted. You could feel the familiar feeling in your lower stomach. But there was also something different about it.

"You should have told me. I could have helped you out." He teased more. How long had you been thinking about him? Was it as long as he had thought of you? "I did say all you had to do was ask." You nodded. "Yes, I should have." You agreed. Almost there. "I wanted you so badly. I... I..." your words got caught in your throat. "You what?" "I" was all you managed to get out before your climax washed over you. It was different from usual. Normally your hand would be caught up in your orgasm that you would stop rubbing your clit meaning you would only feel it for a few fleeting moments. But Aemond did not stop. He kept going watching you come undone on top of him. Your whole body shook.

You looked so beautiful in that moment for him. He needed to do this again to you. Now he knew what it was, he needed it again. Once your body stopped shaking and your eyes closed with tiredness he removed his hand. You felt like you might wobble off the top of him. "Ready for my turn Princess?" Whether or not he meant that as a pet name or your official title, you would never figure it out. You gave a nod.

He flipped you over so now you were on the bottom. You were still in a daze. "Look at what you've done to my trousers." He scolded. You looked down and tried to ignore the bulge and only focus on the giant wet patch. Maybe you might have felt embarrassed but you didn't care. "You felt so good." You sounded like you were drunk. Aemond looked down at his wife, delirious and wanting more and he was more than happy to oblige.

He undid the strings that were trying their best to hold his waistband together. His dick sprung free causing him to wince at the sensitivity. He kicked his trousers away and you shot a sneaky look. Obviously, you had already felt it but you didn't imagine it would look like that. All stiff and leaking slightly. "Enjoying the view?" You were caught. Clearly not as sneaky as you thought you were. You nodded and licked your lips.

"I'll go as slow as I can." His voice suddenly went soft. "It might hurt." You nodded at him. He ran his dick up and down your folds a few times to gather your wetness. It sent small shocks down your spine. Was he teasing you? "Aemond?" You questioned. "Just enjoying my wife. The one who said she'd never ask." You bucked your hips up trying to meet him but he held you down easily. You began to squirm underneath him. You felt so empty. You needed him inside you.

"Don't make me beg again. I was wrong. I do want you to touch me. I do." He didn't move. "Aemond." You tried to sound annoyed but you couldn't. He leant his face forward and kissed your lips. It was then you realised that in all of this, you hadn't kissed him yet. This was your first kiss since the wedding and it made you want more. Why had you been missing out on all of this again? His tongue glided against your lips and you knew immediately what he wanted. You opened your mouth and let him in. For a moment you wondered what his tongue would feel like elsewhere. Maybe another time.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. You didn't miss the smile he had as he slipped himself inside you. You gasped into his mouth and pulled your face away. "I've got you." He reassured. "You're okay." You nodded speechless. He slowly moved while kissing you again. Your sounds of discomfort slowly turned back into moans. It was a strange feeling. He was reaching places your fingers could never could. "Faster." You breathed into his ear. He did as asked.

Your extra sensitivity meant you couldn't last much longer. The sensation in your stomach coming back. When Aemond started making noises you knew he wouldn't last much longer either. "Aemond." You couldn't help but shout. He began to nod. "I know. I know." He began to repeat over and over. He kept one hand by your head while his hand went back to the spot you had shown him earlier. The shock of pleasure had your body jolt forward clamping your muscles. Aemond let out his own moan which sent you over the edge for the second time. Your muscles pulsated around him and he finished inside of you.

He stayed inside of you for a few moments catching his breath before rolling over beside you. You shuffled over to him and put your head on his shoulder. You looked up at him and saw what you wanted. His hair was a mess. You raised your hand and brushed it out of his face. He looked down at you puzzled. You moved your hand. "What?" You asked suddenly worried that you had done something wrong. He took your hand and held it against his face. He leant into your touch. "What is it Aemond?" You were suddenly concerned.

He took a deep breath in. "Nothing." He brushed it off. Letting go of your hand. "Don't do this Aemond. I'm your wife, as much as I have not acted like it. Please share your thoughts with me." "I just fear now that you have gotten what you wanted from me, you will leave me." "Aemond." You sat up brushing your own hair out of your face. You gathered the sheets to cover yourself. "I know what you think of yourself. I see it. You might think you hide it but I've known you my entire life." You turned back around to look at him. "I won't leave you." He didn't look at you, not believing you.

You leant down to kiss him. You tried to put all of your feelings into the kiss. At first, he did not kiss you back but he got caught up in it. "You don't need to believe me, at least not at first." You said pulling away. "But I will make sure you know. I will make it up to you. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you." You curled back up into his side. He moved slightly but only to hold you closer. You were in his arms as much as he was in yours. You both drifted off to sleep again.

You both were woken by knocks at your doors. "Prince? Princess?" It was your handmaidens. "Go away," Aemond shouted at them. You giggled at his childishness. You heard the shuffling of feet. "We should get up." You sighed. "Although I do not wish to." Closing your eyes again. "We are needed for royal duties." Aemond agreed. "Do any of your duties include training? I like it when you train." Aemond chuckled. "Is that so?" You nodded at his question. "Watching you made me realise how badly I wanted you. Watching you sweat and be out of breath. I wanted to do that to you." "I can make it part of my duties. I do need to be ready to always protect the realm. And once I'm done I can find my Lady Wife."

You pulled away from his arms and tried to get out of bed only to find yourself collapsing under your own weight and back onto the bed. "It's like I'm on one of grandsire's ships." You giggled. "I might have to stay here all day." You beamed. "Then how will you watch me train?" Aemond pointed out. You pouted. He kissed you. As he pulled away you pulled him back in for a second one. "I fear I have created a monster."

"I'd like to say. In the future please feel free to touch me whenever you like. Well... Not whenever. We might cause quite a stir if we do that in court." "Hmmmm." He traced circles on your side. "I like the idea of us sitting at the presiding table with my hand up your skirt." You shivered. "Sounds like you've already thought about it." It was your turn to tease. He sat forward, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear. "Oh, I have Princess. I've thought about many things." "You should have let me know. I would have helped you." You mirrored his words from earlier.

The both of you got dressed and Aemond led you by arm to see his sister Helaena and her children. You sat down and smiled at the children. Helaena looked at you once you were alone. "Hot baths." She said. "Hot baths help with the pain." She went back to sowing while you felt yourself blushing. How she knew, you didn't want to know but you hoped nobody else did.

You and she walked around the red keep taking the children for a walk. You heard grunting. You looked down into the courtyard and saw your husband and Ser Cole practising with swords. His grunts and breathlessness taking you back to this morning. Almost like he could feel your presence he looked up. He grinned knowing your thoughts.

He told you, you'd end up married.

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond x niece!reader #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond smut #targcest #aemond targaryen x female reader #smut #aemond targaryen smut #Targaryen princess #hotd smut #House of the dragon #House of the dragon fic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon reader #hotd

757 notes · View notes

flowerofbenevolence · 1 month ago

Text

Twisted Wonderland Housewardens with a LP! Athanasia! Reader

This is a gift for @blues824, who inspired me with their amazing work, specifically their headcanons. This was also originally going to be a request, but since they are currently on a hiatus, I decided to make this myself.

Preface: Once upon a time, you were the unloved, ignored, and abandoned second princess of the Empire of Obelia. The nobles would always mock you for being the daughter of the emperor and a mere dancer. Even your father, the cold-hearted Emperor Claude De Alger Obelia, utterly despised you since you had killed your mother during childbirth. Your older half-sister, Crown Princess Jeanette, on the other hand, was beloved by all for her beauty, kindness, and being the daughter of the emperor and a high-ranking noble and was often heralded as "The Lovely Princess". In the end, when you were framed for poisoning your lovely older sister, your cruel father sentenced you to death, only for you to be reincarnated into the magical world of Twisted Wonderland.

I used to read the manga, "Who Made Me a Princess" a long time ago and dropped it during the chapters when Claude lost his memories. One day, I will return to it.

Riddle was absolutely stunned by your beauty the very moment he laid eyes on you. With your platinum blonde locks, delicate, fair complexion, and of course, jeweled blue eyes, you were most definitely the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. But of course, being a strict and serious control freak, he often yelled at you for breaking rules and associating with idiots like Ace and Deuce. He would never admit it, but he was jealous that someone as gorgeous and graceful as you would choose to associate with such imbeciles rather than him.

After his overblot, however, he found that his infatuation with your beauty and grace become a much deeper, more passionate, true love for you. You understood his pain of being a misunderstood, heartbroken little boy with a strict, abusive mother more than anyone else did, and never blamed him for becoming a monster. Sevens, you had even cried tears of heartbreak and empathy alongside him! Apparently, you were not just pretty on the outside, but beautiful within as well. And for that reason, he would always in debt, and in love, with you.

He seriously never understood why you were always so gloomy and withdrawn. Every time he or someone tried to compliment or praise you, you would always respond in such a self-deprecating way that it broke his heart. Didn't you know just how lovely you were? Something in him told him that something terrible must have happened to you for you have such low self-esteem.

He was utterly horrified when you told him about your past. He had his own fair share of heartless parents, to have been executed at the hands of your own father . . . how could someone be so cruel!? It didn't take long before his shock became fury. How dare - How dare someone do such horrid things to you - the loveliest rose of the field!?

"Oh, my rose . . . what terrible things you have endured! Don't worry, while you weren't the lovely princess of your past life, while you aren't a princess anymore, while you are technically nonexistent in this world, you will always be The Lovely Princess to me - no - you will be the Wonderful White Queen!"

When Leona first laid eyes on you, he pretended not to care, but don't be fooled. His eyes widened slightly upon perceiving such beauty, before later returning to sleep, allowing your face to plant itself into his mind like a seed. He had seen beautiful women before, but never one with eyes like jewels. Immediately, he ordered Ruggie to do research on jeweled eyed people and was infuriated when he came back empty-handed. He just had to know more about you and your kind.

After your saved him from his overblot, it would be safe to say that his deep fascination with your eyes became an intense, powerful love. You had a pure soul that had purified his, and he would always be enamored with you for it. However, just because you had a pure soul didn't mean you were completely pure and innocent of all the evil in the world. He could see that with the depressed and sullen manner of which you carried yourself. Upon asking you about it, he surprisingly was unsurprised to know that you had lived a terrible life in the past, full of humiliation, a malevolent father, and a negligent older sister. He also wasn't surprised to know that you had been a princess. It honestly kind of explained the sophisticated manner you conducted yourself with. The only thing he was shocked about was the fact that you had died, specifically executed, and came back to life. However, surprised or not, that didn't mean that Leona's blood didn't boil. He had his own experiences with being in the shadow of your older sibling, but to have been sentenced to death because of it? That was a whole other level of cruelty.

"Oh, kitten . . . I can't imagine all of the things you went through. Always know that while I'm unable to make you an empress, you'll always be the lovely princess in my heart."

Unlike the others, upon laying eyes on you, Azul couldn't care less about your looks. Or at least, not yet. Instead, he legit thought that because you had jeweled eyes, you had the ability to cry jewels, and he wanted to make a profit out of it. Imagine his disappointment when he found out you couldn't. It was, however, after that he started to take in consideration your appearance. With your ethereal, otherworldly beauty that rivaled Vil's, he decided to try and turn you into a model and make money off you from there. Imagine his disappointment when you refused.

He honestly had no clue why you were so insecure. Couldn't you see how beautiful you were!? It threw him into a jealous rage. You should have been grateful. Afterall, some people, such as himself, grew up being mocked for being ugly, and people like you were far more than fortunate. However, something inside him just commanded him to find out more about you, and what caused you to be so sorrowful.

He found out shortly after the two of you started dating, which was after he fell in love with you for saving his life following his overblot. His heart broke knowing all of the things you must have endured as the unloved second princess of Obelia. He wanted to find that wicked father of yours and make him sign a contract that would bind him to the very bottom of the sea even if he lived in another world. How dare someone hurt his angelfish like this!?

He also began to wonder if he was good enough for you. Regardless of how hated you were in your first life, you were still a princess. He, on the other hand, was the son of a mere restaurant owner as well as an unsightly octo-mer. However, when you assured him that you loved him and that he was more than worthy of you, he started crying tears of joy. Oh, he would have destroyed the entire malevolent empire of Obelia if you simply asked.

When Kalim first saw you, you reminded him of his favorite jewel back at home. He immediately began bombarding you with questions. Where did you get those contact lenses? Why were your eyes jeweled? Were there other jeweled eye people in your world??

It was only when he saw how uncomfortable you were that he stopped. However, that didn't mean that like with everyone, he tried to be friends with you. He honestly was very confused at how fragile and anxious you were. Did he do something wrong? Why were you avoiding him? Why did you evade everyone? But following Jamil's advice, later stopped.

Speaking of Jamil, following the events of Book 4, Kalim found himself falling for you. You had revealed to him the wicked conspiracy of his most trusted companion. You had comforted him and offered advice during his time of grief and feelings of betrayal. But most of all, in stark contrast to your usually cowardly disposition, had saved the life of his friend.

When you told him about your past, he initially refused to believe you and thought you were joking. Executed at the hands of your own father? You must be pretending to be a novel protagonist. There was no way anyone in the world could possibly be that evil, right? It wasn't until he saw you crying that he realized you were being dead serious. Guilt and horror immediately flooded his heart as he began apologizing nonstop and comforting you. He couldn't believe someone as lovely and loving as you, had gone through something so terrible. Sevens, he couldn't even believe that someone as innocent and graceful as you, was related to a monster! He promises that for as long as he lives, he would make the happiest girl alive until his kindness rivals the cruelty of that wicked father of yours.

When he first laid eyes on you, he could feel the claws of envy digging deeply into his heart. With your delicate, fairy-like facial features and ocean blue gemstone-like eyes, you most definitely were the fairest of all, even topping Neige in all his glory. So, without a shadow of a doubt, he was hatefully, painfully jealous of you. First, he had Neige, and now he's got you.

His resentment only worsens when he sees how shy and gloomy you are. Afterall, insecurity does imply wasting potential and a lack of tenacity, and Vil hates those who put no effort into improving themselves. Yet something inside him made him feel guilty to be harsh on you. He couldn't understand. Surely this was because he found your beauty irresistible, even if you didn't see it.

After you saved and forgave from overblot, however, his perception made a 180. He began to believe that you were an angel who was not only beautiful, but humble as well, and merciful despite the evils of the world. The only thing that remained the same was his confusion towards your insecurity. Didn't you know how honored he was to be in your presence? Didn't you know how precious you were???

He was absolutely heartbroken when you told him about your past. Unlike Kalim, he knew for a fact that you were not joking because of all the tears that stained your face, and because he's an actor who knew when people were telling a story or not.

"Oh, you poor thing! That evil emperor doesn't deserve to have such an amazing woman like you as his daughter! Always remember, meine liebe, that you are precious and no one in this world can compare with your beauty both inside and out!"

He's also deeply irritated by the story of "The Lovely Princess". How disgustingly trashy! Not only is the main protagonist wayyyy too boring and bland, but she made you suffer alongside your father! If it were to be a movie, play, or TV show, he wouldn't play it even if it was the last chance he got to play the main protagonist.

(Before reading Idia's part, please know that I have not finished Book 6 and am not very familiar Idia's character, so this mayyyy be inaccurate.)

OMG! She looks like a waifu from a manga or anime! Is what he thinks when he first lays eyes on you. You were just so beautiful, you had to an isekai protagonist (and you are!) Your eyes were so glamorous, they couldn't possibly be real! But, of course, being the otaku shut-in he is, he never had the audacity to ask you about where you got your contacts. As a result, he was stuck admiring you from afar.

His crush on you only grew as he saw how much of an introvert you were. You were constantly surrounded by people who told you to have more confidence in yourself, that it reminded him of himself and Ortho. As a result, he strongly empathized with you and your struggle, and that connection was just watered the flower of his love.

When you told him about how you were executed by your father in your past life, he honestly felt like summoning S.T.Y.X.'s forces to blow up the Obelia Empire. Let those sucker normies rot in Tartarus! How dare they harm his waifu like this!? He caresses your cheek, assuring you that while you didn't manage to become the Lovely Princess, you would always be his Persephone.

(Again, since I have not finished Book 6, I have not even STARTED Book 7)

When Malleus first laid eyes on you, not only did he fall head over heels in love at first sight, but he also thought you were a fellow fairy. He was very surprised when he saw your round human ears. who knew humans could be so beautiful? Not to mention how your eyes looked like jewels and dragons loved shiny treasures. Either way, he fell ardently infatuated with you for being the first person to not fear him.

He was honestly very intrigued to see that you were a very shy person. People normally avoided him about of fear, but you normally avoided people out of fear. It was kind of like opposites attract. He, who yearned for friendship despite being feared like a monster was in love with you, who yearned for loneliness despite attracting attention with your beauty.

He also grew suspicious of your status as a commoner when he saw how sophisticated your manners were. You carried yourself with poise and grace, like how a future empress was taught to do. Of course, he wouldn't dare accuse you of lying to him, but he began to wonder if there was more to the story.

When you told him about your past as the abandoned princess of Obelia, a storm started brewing as he prepared to strike down the entire wretched empire of Obelia. How dare someone harm his Y/N!?

"Oh, my dear . . . How dare someone do that to you!? And your one and only kindred at that! Curse that treacherous father of yours! Don't worry. With me, you will forever be safe and happy. Anyone who dares to offend you shall face my wrath. I will make sure of it."

When you tell him that you told him you were a commoner instead of an (abandoned) princess because you were ashamed of that fact that you were the abandoned princess of a kingdom that didn't exist in this world and that your mother was a commoner, he tells you,

"Oh, darling, that's nothing to be ashamed of. I will always love you even if you are a peasant."

233 notes · View notes

littlest-w01f · 5 months ago

Text

Birthday

Rhysand x Reader

For @officialrhysandweek

Rhysand Week 2024 Masterlist

Day 1: Adolescence

Summary: Your first birthday while dating Rhysand

Cw: Tie as restraints, daddy kink, Cassian and Azriel were listening from outside Smut 18+ MDNI

You sat on his desk, swinging your legs, all dolled up for your 20th birthday surprise, excited for what Rhysand had planned, watching him dressed in a suit picking a tie. Rhysand approached you quietly, eyes dark as he saw you dressed in his colours, the dress he'd help his mother make, one she had gifted you by hand this morning.

"What are you doing?" you ask him curiously as he walks behind you to the edge of his desk, taking your hands in his, using the other to bind your hands behind your back with the tie he had chosen.

Your heart hammers as he winnows in front of you again, taking your chin in his hand he purred, "We're going to be fashionable late tonight, darling." To his surprise for you. He'd wanted to invite everyone for your birthday, but you had him cut the list short. Not wanting anything too grand.

As Rhysand held you captive with the silk tie wrapped around your wrists, his fingers lingered on her smooth skin, sending shivers down your spine. His piercing gaze raked over your form, admiring how the dress hugged your curves, the trim sparkling against your tan complexion. The neckline dipped low, revealing the gentle swell of your breasts.

Without warning, Rhysand leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth, exploring every inch as he pressed your body flush against his. One large hand slid down to palm your ass through the fabric of the dress, kneading possessively.

His touch was deliberate, igniting flames across your skin. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, matching the rhythm of his strong heartbeat against yours. His free hand trailed up your thigh, and he broke the kiss only to trail hot kisses along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe. "You look absolutely stunning," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You hummed softly, legs locked around his waist. Feeling your legs wrap around his hips, Rhysand hoisted you further onto his desk with ease, your bound hands preventing you from steadying yourself. His hands roamed freely now, gripping your thighs firmly as he pulled away slightly to admire you sprawled out before him. His eyes darkened further, an unspoken promise of carnal pleasures yet to come.

"Tell me," he said, voice husky with lust, "What do you think I'm planning for your birthday?"

"A party maybe..." You breathe, lips kiss stung, "You could also be thinking about ruining this dress."

Rhysand chuckled deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Oh, darling," he whispered, his breath warm against your flushed skin, "I plan to ruin much more than just this dress." With those words, he shifted his weight, positioning himself between your spread thighs. His hardened cock pressed insistently against the heat of your core, the thin barrier of fabric providing little protection.

His large hand slipped under your dress, finding the wet warmth of your cunt. He groaned approvingly, fingers teasing your slick folds over your lace. "Does my little Lady crave to be fucked on her birthday?"

"Yes, Rhys..." You breathe as Rhysand pulls the skirts of your gown to your waist, pulling at your lace.

Rhysand deftly untied the delicate lace, exposing your glistening cunt to his hungry gaze. He let out a low growl, fingers dipping into your wetness, thrusting in and out, circling your clit with expert pressure. "So responsive already," he praised, thumbing your sensitive clit. "I knew dressing you in my colors would bring out the wanton vixen inside."

He withdrew his hand, leaving you aching for more. With a swift motion, he tore open his trousers, freeing his massive erection. The head was already leaking precum, glistening in the dim light. "Beg for it, my sweet," Rhysand commanded, stroking his shaft, "Beg me to fill you up on your special day."

"Please," you whimpered, your body writhing underneath him. "Rhysand, please fuck me. I need you so badly." The plea fell from your lips like a prayer, each syllable punctuated by the scent of your arousal. Your inner walls clenched in anticipation, aching for the feeling of being filled by him.

Rhysand leaned in, kissing the column of your neck, "You have me... What do you need?"

"Your cock," You gasp, your hands struggling in their ties, "Please... Need your cock."

Without another word, Rhysand positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against your cunt. He looked into your eyes, his own burning with raw desire. Then, with a powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely.

A guttural moan escaped your throat as he stretched you wide, your velvet walls gripping him tightly. Rhysand paused for a moment, savouring the exquisite sensation of your tight heat enveloping him. His hands gripped your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he began to move, slowly at first, then gradually increasing his pace. You whined with every thrust, trying to grind against him.

The obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mingling with your cries of ecstasy. Rhysand pistoned into you relentlessly, hitting depths that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Your breasts straining against the confines of your bodice.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Rhysand grunted, sweat dripping down his brow. "This pretty little cunt was made for me."

The sensation of being stretched and claimed by Rhysand sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body. His cock throbbed inside you, hitting all the right spots as he began to move, setting a punishing pace. Each thrust drove deeper, pushing you towards the brink of bliss.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, anchoring you to him as he pistoned in and out of your dripping wet cunt. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. "Look at you, taking my cock like such a good girl."

The sound of Rhysand's praise sent another wave of pleasure coursing through you. "You feel so good, daddy," You moaned, your voice laced with need. "I love when you fuck me like this."

Rhysand slowed his thrusting, a smirk on his lips, "What?"

"Please don't stop," You whine when he presses into you fully, blush on your cheeks when you realise what you had called him.

"Call me daddy again." Rhysand demanded.

Feeling the embarrassment radiating off you, Rhysand's smirk widened into a full-blown grin. He loved seeing you squirm, especially when it came to admitting how much you enjoyed his dominant side. He continued to pump into you, his cock throbbing inside your clenching walls.

"Daddy likes hearing you say it," He breathed out, taunting her punctuating each word with a deep thrust. "Say it again, sweetheart. Tell daddy how much you want his big cock inside you."

You could tell by the way Rhysand's grip tightened, his strokes grew more forceful. His hand stroked your clit at the same pace. Your cheeks burned with shame and excitement as you heard the demand fall from his lips. "I-I want your big cock, daddy," you stuttered through the pleasure his cock gave you, your eyes fluttering shut. "Please, fuck me with it harder. Make me cum on your cock, daddy." The words tumbled out, your pride forgotten amidst the waves of pleasure rolling through you, eyes rolling back.

Hearing your admission, Rhysand's thrusts grew even more erratic, his grip on your hips becoming bruising. "That's my girl," he groaned, leaning down to capture your nipple with his teeth. "Cum for Daddy. Show me how much you love being fucked by your future High Lord."

At Rhysand's words, your body tensed, the coil within you snapping. A powerful orgasm ripped through you, your cunt clamping down on Rhysand's cock as you came hard. Your release coated his shaft, mixing with your arousal to create a slick glide as he continued to pound into you. Rhysand didn't miss a single beat of his thrusts or stroking your clit, increasing it instead.

Through the haze of ecstasy, you felt Rhysand's cock twitch inside you, signalling his own impending release. "Fuck, I'm close," he gritted out, his thrusts becoming short and sharp. "Cum again baby, milk daddy's cock dry." With one final, brutal plunge, Rhysand buried himself to the hilt and erupted, flooding your spasming cunt with his seed.

As Rhysand's hot cum spilled into you, it triggered another round of orgasms, your cunt pulsing around his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, your entire body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. "R-Rhys!" you cried out, your voice breaking with the intensity of your climax.

Feeling your cunt fluttering around his cock, Rhysand groaned loudly, his own orgasm ripping through him. He held you steady, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside you, marking you as his. "That's it, my beautiful little mate," he panted, still throbbing inside you.

After a moment, you both calmed down, still joined, Rhysand slowly pulled out, groaning watching your mixed cum spill out of you, "Beautiful."

You gasp, feeling your legs cramp slightly, "Oh- That's..."

With a wave of his hand, Rhysand cleans you and your dress, "Come, love, I't time for you party." He smirked, pulling you up, fixing any messed make-up with his magic.

You nod, taking his hand, wincing at your legs wobbling, Rhysand smiled watching you, "Did daddy fuck you too hard, pretty?" His words were clearly a taunt.

"It slipped." You blush as Rhysand walked you to the doors.

"I won't mind if it slips again," With that he opened the door, Azriel and Cassian stumbled backwards, clearly caught, surprised.

"What were you two-" Rhysand pauses, knowing the answer to his own question.

But that didn't stop Cassian, "Oh, daddy-" He moaned in an obnoxious voice that made you want to melt into the floor.

Azriel hit Cassian upside the head, "Hey, Rhys isn't daddy... He's 27."

"Hey I can be daddy!" Rhysand hissed, and you just left the three of them standing in the halls, leaving Rhysand to defend how he could for sure be 'daddy' to go downstairs and be greeted by his lovely mother who greeted you with a kiss to your cheek.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

{Rhysand Taglist - @yeonalie}

371 notes · View notes

hello-eden · 9 months ago

Text

Polaris meets constellation

Damian was quite confused. For all Mother spend time with him, it is usually overseeing his training or the two of them talking in one of their rooms. Mother never takes him out of Nanda Parbat.

Mother makes it sound as if it's a birthday gift. His birthday was 3 weeks ago, Damien knows mother knows it was 3 weeks ago, she was there for the celebration.

Damian can feel as the plane touches down onto the ground. Mother makes no show of asking him to follow her; she knows that he will.

Damian doesn't think that he's ever seen mother outside of Nanda Parbat.

They seem to have landed in a forest. The entire Forest is a sea of lush greens and browns. He can hear animal noises he has never heard before. He hopes that he can see one at least on the way back.

He doesn't think that they're anywhere close to Nanda Parbat. Damian tries to stay close to his mother. He didn't know how long they will be walking but he suspects it will be a while.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They come across a house that is not big by any means but it's not quite small either. It seems to be made out of wood, probably built with the same materials that are in this Forest. It looks quite old.

Mother knocks on the door. Damian doesn't know why he's surprised that she did that, it means there are people in the house if she's trying to be polite.

The person that opens the door seems to be a woman. She has long black hair that is pulled back into a braid. The woman seems to be wearing some sort of black and violet wrap dress. Damian can see chains wrapped around her waist as well as her neck.

He believes they are some sort of fashion statement.

Mother and the woman just stare into each other's eyes for a moment before the woman turns to look at Damian. she looks him over then turns back to his mother and nods.

the woman steps away from the door signaling for them to walk in.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Damian walks in he seems to notice how it's not the headquarters that he expected. It seems to be an actual home. There are photos up on the walls of a man, woman and child. there seems to be no pictures of the child younger than five in the entryway.

The man in the photos has a darker complexion and seems to wear Egyptian style clothes in all of the photos. The woman that let them in seems to be the woman in the photos.

The younger child seems to catch his attention. She looks like a young girl. She seems to have dark brown hair and has the same green eyes as him, the ones he shares with mother.

Mother tells him to sit on the couch and wait for her there as she goes to talk to the woman in the kitchen. Mother does not tell him what they will be talking about.

As he looks around the living room he notices more pictures than the ones that were in the entryway. The ones in the living room also have his mother.

His mother seems to be smiling. He hasn't seen his mother smile since he was five. As he gets older he notices that more and more.

His mother looks happy in the photos.

She looks young as well.

There's a photo close to the window that has the child in his mother's arms. this seems to be the only photo of the child as a baby it would seem.

The baby looks like the ones that he sees in the baby photos that mother used to show him. He knows she didn't mean for him to remember he was quite Young, sometimes he thinks the memories are a dream.

Damian remembers how his mother used to always dismiss the nurses and just rock him back asleep when he had a nightmare.

Before he started training she used to kiss his forehead whenever he presented her with something; whether it was a small rock he decided was pretty or it was a new blade he had been gifted by a league member on her staff.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As he hears movement coming towards the room he sits down on the couch.

The person that walks in isn't his mother like he thought it was, Nor is it the woman that he saw at the door. He believes it's the young girl from the photos.

She seems to be 12, maybe 13. He was correct when he thought earlier that she had mother's eyes.

He hates the jealousy that he feels when he makes that thought. Mother always told him he looked like a father but mother the one who raised him it's logical to want to be closer to her. Even if it's just in looks.

The girl looks shocked.

He does not know if it's because there is someone in the living room or if it's himself that she is shocked by.

she seems to shake her head to snap out of it.

He's never seen someone express so much emotion on their face.

She walks up to him and says “hi”

Damien Hesitantly replies “hello”

Just after he replies, Mother walks into the room with the woman from the door.

Mother is smiling. He hasn't seen mother smile in a long time. He thought the picture from earlier would be the only one he would see.

“Habibi, this is your sister Eleanor“

Damian had been making the connection since he walked in from the door but it's very different when it's set out loud.

He didn't expect his birthday present from mother to be a sibling.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton #damian wayne #danny reincarnates into talia al ghul au #T!danny al ghul au

994 notes · View notes

stargirlrchive · 9 months ago

Text

INVISIBLE STRING — CASSIAN!

pairing: cassian x morrigan (half) sister reader

notes: :3 hi hi this is so scary. i haven’t posted a full thought out fic in probably a year (crazy) and i would like to say i have not finished the series so if timeline is inaccurate and just plots don’t make sense w canon it’s bc im still on acowar :p but cassian has taken over my brain and i can’t get him out of it !!!! c: part two is already being worked on bc im so proud of her. i hope u all enjoy it <3 ++ i know mor is described as being blonde and fairly pale in complexion which is why i made reader her half sibling, and there are no descriptions of reader’s physical attributes bc i wanted to kept it as neutral as possible :3

cw: angst, hurt no comfort (yet?), azriel’s shadows being the biggest cassreader shippers ever, unrequited love but really it’s just idiots in love. also mentions (brief) of abuse from keir (gross!)

Your fingers nervously fumbled with the straps of your leathers. Heart pounding in your ears as you forced yourself to drop the nervous jitters, fingers balling into tight fist to stop their trembling.

It had been a long time since you had last seen your family. A long time since your gaze met violet eyes, or your nose scented cedar wood and night chilled mist. The lingering scent of sea salted water and citrus, and fresh paint and vanilla, and sweet wine and roses had nearly erased from your memory. But what you missed the most was the red gleam of siphons that glowed ruby red under certain light.

Truly, in an immortals life time half a decade was just a blip in time, minuscule, but you had never been gone this long from them. Especially not from Rhys, Az, Mor, and Cassian, with the exception of Rhysand’s imprisonment under the mountain.

You blinked away the burning in your eyes as you pushed open the doors of the town house. Soft chatter growing cold at the unexpected intrusion. You had barely enough time to register everyone seated at the table when shadows were zooming past their master to greet you excitedly.

Nuzzling into your hair and neck and arms. Azriel’s shadows had always been so fond of you. Whispering and singing in your ear in a language you could not understand.

They tugged you forward, until you were stumbling clumsily as they dragged you towards Cassian. An ache settled deep in your chest as you fought against them gently, moving between Azriel and Rhys. You missed the flash of hurt in hazel eyes as you avoided him.

Five years later and he still didn’t know the truth of your departure. Before your thoughts could send you spiraling, Rhys’ voice called your name. An undeniable smile in his voice before his arms were enveloping you, “Cousin, you’re back.”

“I am.” Your throat felt thick, tongue heavy as you fought back tears. His scent had always comforted you, Rhys had given you and Mor a chance. A lifeline in the sea that you were drowning in, in Hewn City.

Two sisters, both forced into a world that was cruel and unkind. Morrigan as rightful Heir of Keir had experienced the brunt of it all. From being stuffed into tight dress, to being pranced around in front of grimy men, and nearly forced into a life with a male whose family’s cruelty knew no bounds.

Your torment had been in forms of neglect and isolation. Your father had never much cared for you, being a product of affairs, his bastard, he left you alone. Barely acknowledged your presence when at the mere age of nine you were thrown into his arms from your mother’s father, stating you were no longer his responsibility since your mother’s death. Your father’s neglect, you now realized, had been a blessing.

You were Mor’s shadow. Clinging to her as any younger sister would. Always causing trouble until you learned to obey. Mor never let you experience the abuse from your father fully. Always taking the blame, always hiding you. You owed her and Rhys, your family, everything.

There was a soft clearing of a throat that pulled you and your High Lord apart. Shadows greedily pulling you to face everyone else. Azriel’s hazel eyes assessing you, looking for any injuries before his fingers were squeezing your elbow gently. A soft hello.

Your eyes flickered around the room, and you realized just how much had changed. Your High Lady, and dear friend seated at the head of the table, Rhys by her side. Besides him sat Azriel and then Elain.

Your throat tightened as you allowed your eyes to flicker to the other side, Nesta beside Feyre, and Cassian beside her. Amren had most likely skipped out dinner to enjoy the privacy of her apartment, and Mor was no longer around. Preferring to spend her time on the continent.

The golden thread that tied you to the Lord of Bloodshed sung loudly and happily in your chest. Five years since you had last laid eyes on him and the feeling alone nearly brought you to your knees.

Your eyes flickered away from Cassian, ignoring the way your heart and soul begged you not to. “Is my room still available?”

Feyre sent you a soft smile, sad really, as she realized how desperately you wished to find some peace and quiet. She knew of your affections for the General, and how you had never told him only to watch him fall in love with her sister.

“Of course it is, but you should join us.”

You swallowed roughly at Rhys’ words, unable to stop the gnawing pain in your heart and the cruel words circling in your mind. Cassian was not yours, he had never been and it was unfair of you to expect him to love you the way you had always yearned for him too. But it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, it always fucking hurt.

“I’m quite tired, maybe tomorrow.” Rhys didn’t push, just affectionately tucked your hair behind your pointed ear and let you go.

Your steps were quick, hurried and Cassian’s voice sounded like smooth velvet as he called your name. You didn’t stop, your knees nearly buckling under your weight as you forced yourself to keep walking.

Mumbling a quiet, “Goodnight,” before disappearing into the hallways in search of your bedroom.

During your five years away at Day the turmoil in your heart had eased, if only slightly. Cassian would unintentionally send his emotions down the bond, and it seemed it always happened when your heart had finally let you rest.

When you finally saw light at the end of a never ending tunnel of despair, the mating bond would reel you in, viciously and unforgiving. You were sure you were being punished.

How dare you ever try to question what the Mother wanted for you?

Being back in Velaris, being back home, felt so much worse. With the distance, even when his emotions poured into your very bones, it felt weakened. Less tethered to you.

But now? Now you felt his sorrow so deeply tears fell freely down your cheeks.

You had only been trying to sleep for a few hours, your rest had been fitful at best, anxiety prickling at your fingertips as you threw the warm blanket off of you. You needed air. You needed clarity.

Your feet moved on their own. From what you last knew there were no longer many residents here. You were careless in thinking so as your feet moved hurriedly through the house and out into the garden.

Filling your lungs with air as tears prickled at your eyes, the cold nipping at your skin as you sunk into one of the benches placed around the area.

You had only been in his presence for a mere five minutes and your heart was already waging a war against you.

Maybe you could convince Rhys to send you off once again. Your years away at Day had been filled with research and insight, maybe you could do the same at Dawn. Or any other Court that wasn’t here. Gods, you’d even take the forsaken libraries in the Hewn City if it meant not being here. You’d beg if you had too because this, this was too much.

You let out a shaky breath as your mind ruthfully plagued you with memories of the past. Of your utter devastation of hearing that Mor had slept with Cassian.

Of the guilt you felt after, when you avoided her in anger and utter jealousy and then told of the way she was savagely left to die.

You would never forgive yourself.

Remembering when you realized you were utterly and hopelessly devoted to your life long friend, and learning to live with just having a small part of him for you.

Hoping and praying to the Mother that he’d love you back. Hoping to see a spark of honeyed warmth, or a lick of jealousy when you found solace in the warmth of another. Anything, you prayed and prayed, but she never answered.

Not until you had pinned him down on the training matt, wings sprawled out beneath him as you stared at him smugly. A soft, primal, smirk on his face as he gripped your thighs. “You’re getting better.”

Your laughter filtered through the open area, “Only ‘better’? I just kicked your ass.”

He grunted, tugging you gently and in a quick succession of movements had flipped you over, pinning you to the ground. His thighs caged over yours, pinning your hands above your head as he sent you a toothy smile.

The wind that had been knocked out of you was not due to the fact your back had hit against the matt, but because something snapped inside of you. An invisible golden thread, darting from your chest to his, so visceral you could almost taste it, singing happily at finally being acknowledged.

But he gave no indication that he had felt the mating bond snap into place, “Yes, ‘better’. Because you should know not to let your guard down.”

Your speechlessness could’ve been a product of being bested in sparring, your mind racing with things to say but nothing came out.

The fog that had formed in your brain cleared at the bark of laughter that left Azriel, “If you two are done flirting, get back to sparring or leave the ring.”

You don’t remember what excuse you used to suddenly needing to leave but you did. Hope sparkling in your chest at what you thought was an answered prayer by the Mother. He was yours, just as much as you were his.

Only for the ember to burn to ash quickly, as two nights after Cassian had come to you looking for guidance on how to court Nesta.

You tried so hard, pushing down the mating bond that roared and screamed in utter agony as he spilled to you his affections for the eldest Archeron.

Your heart stuttering and begging for release of this pain as your mind caught up to you. He’d never see you. He hadn’t before, so what would be so different now? What would suddenly make you worthy in his eyes? The mating bond?

You realized quickly that you didn’t want that. Didn’t want him to love you just because fate decided to pair you together. You wanted him to love you, to yearn for you the way you had for him without something telling him to.

So with a forced smile you consoled him. Running your fingers through his hair and giving him advice on how to win her heart.

Some days you cursed yourself for that night. You wished you had been selfish and told him he was yours. But then the guilt would settle and you knew you’d never have the heart to force that onto your dearest friend.

In the end all you wanted was his happiness, if that was with someone else then you’d have to learn to live with it.

It had all led up to the night where you accidentally walked in on Nesta and Cassian in the kitchen at the House of Wind, lips and tongues tangled.

The mating bond felt like it was burning you alive from the inside out, angry and volatile as it blamed you for pushing him into her arms.

You’re not sure how you ended up in Rhys office, your face pressed into him as your fingers tried to claw at the hurt in your chest, “Make it stop, Rhys. Gods please, just make it stop.”

He had never seen you like this, never seen you in such despair as he tried to calm you down. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help you.

Only held you in his arms and sang a lullaby his mother had always sang to the three of you as children. Your desperation and pain eased and numbness eventually coated your insides.

“Send me away.”

He hesitated, wiping your tears as Feyre’s soothing touch caressed your back. His violet eyes shining with hurt and concern for you, “What are you running from?”

Your thoughts were interrupted by the deep timber of a voice you were so familiar with,“Is it just me, or are you avoiding me?”

Heat quickly ran from your skull down to your spine at the velvety voice that belonged to Cassian. Your back tensing uncomfortably as you turned to look at him.

You refrained from letting your eyes glaze down his form. Bare chested and wings lazily held up as his brows furrowed when he took you in.

“Cassian-what are you doing here?”

You stood up from your seated position as he moved closer. His eyes never leaving yours, “Here as in the gardens or here as in my home?”

Your brows furrowed, were he and Nesta now permanently in the town house? It would’ve made sense, seeing as they were all here, having dinner earlier.

“In-in the gardens.”

His lips twisted up into a small quirk of a smile, his eyes lingering on your face as if trying to reacquaint himself with your features.

Your heart lurched to your throat as his gaze lingered on your lips before he looked back into your eyes. “I heard you walking around. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“How did you know it was me?”

His lips tugged into a proper smile this time, “Who else could it be?”

He couldn’t bring himself to tell you that he’d long ago familiarized himself with the sound of your steps.

Your brows pinched together, full lips tugging into a small frown, “Where is everyone else?”

“Elain is most likely off in Lucien’s apartment, Azriel is at the House of Wind.”

And despite yourself, you asked, “And Nesta?”

Your throat bobbed softly, heart already preparing itself to hear that she was tangled in his sheets in his room. A soft shrug came from him, muscles flexing deliciously at the movement, “Probably with her mate.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his words. Her mate? You were sure the confusion was evident on your face as Cassian laughed. “It’s a bit unfair isn’t it? She was made a measly six years ago, and she’s found who her soul is tethered to, while we’ve been around for centuries and have no luck.”

“Lucky her.”

He hummed, eyes glazing over your face and the look in his eyes was unrecognizable. Warm and honeyed. It made your stomach twist and turn into uncomfortable knots.

“I should go to bed, Cassian. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You made to walk away from him, but his rough fingers wrapped around your forearm in a touch that could only be described as gentle. When you finally looked up at him his brows were pinched together in confusion, and hurt.

“What’s with the full name?”

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed slightly at your words, “You’ve used it on me twice in the span of a few minutes. I’m never ‘Cassian’ to you.”

A stretch of silence passed between the two of you, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to act around him anymore.

Gods, you had come around to the idea of seeing him tangled with Nesta. But you were back and he was single. Or at least not with her and you don’t know what you feared most.

That your heart would take this as hope and yearn for him, and watch him fall for another, or to finally tell him how you felt. If it would even mean anything to him, if he’d even want you.

You couldn’t do it, you wouldn’t. You refused to let hope spark in your heart when he had already tangled himself into your very being like overgrown ivy. You don’t know if you’d survive any more rejection.

His voice was softer this time, thick fingers cupping your cheeks and jaw, forcing you to look at him, “You were gone five years and I can barely get five sentences out of you before you’re running away from me.”

Tears stung behind your eyes as your throat tightened at the hurt twinging his voice. It took everything in you to not soothe the crease between his brows, your body tensing softly as his thumb caressed your bottom lip gently, “If I have offended you, or hurt you some how tell me how to fix it. I have been waiting for five years for your return and I cannot stand to think that this whole time you were away you were angry with me.”

You wished you could speak, but your tongue felt heavy. The hurt in his eyes turned to something akin to despair at your silence, his hands dropped from caressing your face to hang loosely by his side, his wings slumped against the floor.

You let out a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to look away from him, “I should go to bed.”

And this time he didn’t stop you.

Weeks had trickled by so slowly since your return to Velaris as you tried to find your place back in your home court.

You had never been particularly good at fighting, your strength came from your knowledge. Books and literature had been something you had clung to as a child and it never left you.

You digested text in a way the inner circle did not, memorized details and names and faces others struggled with. But that did not mean Azriel was any easier on you when it came to training.

The muscles in your abdomen ached painfully, your arms felt heavy and filled with sand as he squared up once more. “I need a break.”

“You need to focus.”

A whine ripped from your throat in protest, Az’s shadows peppering cooling kisses and caresses on your skin to try and comfort you. “Just a few minutes. Please?”

“You think if someone were to try and attack you, they’d spare you if you whined like a petulant child?”

At your silence and glare he continued, “Didn’t think so.”

Your fingers balled into fist as you readied yourself, your muscles heavy with exhaustion as you threw punch after punch his way. “Remain focused, let yourself do what feels instinctual.”

You were sure you would’ve passed whatever Azriel’s standards were had his shadows not wrapped around your legs. Tugging insistently and trying to drag you away.

You heard Azriel’s noise of protest as he tried to rein his shadows back but they refused. Your head turned towards the direction in which they were tugging you in only to be met with Cassian’s warm hazel eyes already on you.

With an accidental misstep you were tumbling forward, falling far too quickly to catch yourself. Your head ringing harshly as the side of your face smacked against the mat.

Someone called out your name in a panic, and you missed the way Cassian had roughly pushed Azriel away from you as he turned you around.

His eyes frayed with worry as your eyes remained unfocused, “Can you look at me, dove?”

You blinked a few times before a groan of discomfort left your mouth, “What the fuck happened?”

Azriel’s shadows sheepishly began to caress your skull, pressing kisses of apologies on your skin. You didn’t hear anything besides tiny wisps of whispers coming from them but you’re were sure they hissed at Cassian as he shooed them away.

It took you a few minutes but you were eventually able to sit. Your ears ringing and still a little dizzy but you were feeling better despite the throb on your temple.

Azriel’s shadows peered at you from behind him sheepishly, and it was only when you extended your hand to them that they swarmed you in a flurry. Rubbing against your neck and hair affectionately, being careful with the side of your face but caressing you softly.

“They say they’re sorry.”

Your lips quirked up at Azriel’s words, “They’re forgiven.”

They buzzed in excitement, before stilling softly as Cassian extended a hand out for the shadows. They treaded carefully, lightly caressing his arm as in apology as if they had also offended him.

A few swirled around your hand and fingers, tugging it much more gently into Cassian’s extended hand. Your cheeks warmed up in embarrassment but before you could pull away, he tangled his fingers with yours.

The shadows swirled around your intertwined hands as if proud of themselves before finally returning to their master. Azriel sent you a soft smirk, and with a shake of his head diseapeared into a mass of dark misty shadows.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded slowly, retorting in exasperation, “Just feels like I hit my head.”

Cassian’s lips tugged into a soft smile, helping you up and not dropping your tangled fingers, “Let’s get you to Madja.”

He pulled you along closely, walking you both towards the edge of the training area. Before you could overthink about being so tangled in his arms he wrapped himself around you. One hand cradling the back of your head to his chest, while the other gripped the back of your thighs.

Your heart pummeled to your stomach as he took off flying, it had been so long since you felt the breeze against your face like this. Your legs wrapping around him as a startled laugh left your mouth.

You felt his laugh more than you heard it, his chest rumbling against yours and for the first time in years, your heart felt at ease around Cassian.

No turmoil or anguish, just overflowing affection and happiness as he flew you carefully around Velaris. Your face tucked away from being so pressed to his chest to look up at him and your breath hitched.

He was truly so beautiful, rough and sharp features that looked like he was made out of stone carving. His lips the perfect shade of dusty rose and plump, his nose fit him beautifully too, slightly crooked at the slope from being broken over the years. White-raised scars on his beautiful tan skin. You were so close you could see the faintest of freckles that doted his skin.

“You didn’t pass out on me, did you?”

Heat bloomed on your cheeks at getting so lost admiring him before you tucked your face back into his chest, “No, I’m fine.”

His fingers squeezed around your thighs as he pulled you closer before he descended down to the Town House.

You were grateful for the hand he kept placed on your back as he walked you into the house. Your dizziness hitting you once again as you landed on solid ground. The warmth running down your spine at his heated touch had you suppressing a shiver.

Your bones ached in protest when he pulled away and sat you down in front of an amused Rhys and exasperated Madja. The elder lady frowning at the bruise on your temple.

“Cassian, I’ve told you not to be so rough when training,” Madja’s soothing voice chastised the General. Your lips tugging into an amused smiled at the noise of protest that left his mouth.

“It was Azriel’s shadows that caused this.”

Madja’s eyes narrowed softly at his words but said nothing more. A hiss leaving your lips as she pushed against the bump forming near your eye.

Cassian’s fingers twitched nervously at the sound of your discomfort. His eyes glued to you as you were looked over by the healer.

Something warm and comfortable hummed in his chest seeing you. The weeks you had been back were nothing short of torture for him.

In the five years you had been gone Cassian came to the devastating realization that he was utterly and unabashedly enamored with you. Cursing himself for the time wasted on pointless lovers, on Nesta, when you had been by his side for the better half of four centuries.

His heart cracking open and knocking him over one restless night as his mind tormented him with everything he had been lacking since you had departed to Day.

He figured that he had always loved you, had always cared for you. But the twisting of his gut in your absences alerted him that it was in a way that was different from Mor and Amren, and then Feyre. His obsession with needing you near, needing you safe stemmed from some thing else entirely.

It took four months of being away from you to realize that. Cursing himself at all the time wasted.

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t try to get ahold of you while you were studying and researching to your hearts content at Day. He had sent letter after letter, received few responses but he had figured you were busy.

His skin had only started to crawl with dread and anxiety when there had been reasons for the Inner Circle to attend a meeting, or some grand ball thrown by Helion, and you were never there.

Either whisked away to some other Court for extended research or taking time away to visit your sister.

The very last time he had stepped foot in Day while you had been there was about three months before your return. Rhys had granted him permission to seek you out.

And when he stepped foot into Day Court’s palace in search of you his hope dwindled as Helion informed him that you had just left a few days prior for a fourteen day tour at Autumn Court. But he swore he scented the soft jasmine and lavender cream that he recognized as your scent roaming the halls.

Resigned, he returned home.

Then you returned, so careful and tense in his presence he wished to turn back back to when things were easier between the two of you. When his face would nuzzle into your soft belly as you ran your fingers through his hair and consoled him after a nightmare.

Or how he’d find his favorite pastries wrapped up on the counter that he knew you’d gone out of your way to get him.

He missed when his feelings hadn’t tangled themselves so deeply into you and he could just be. Gods, did he miss you. He yearned and ached and burned for you while you seemed content at keeping him an arms length away.

The mother could be so cruel.

He barely registered Rhys pressing an affectionate kiss to your bruised temple and mumbling that he was taking Madja back before something so earth shattering was unraveling in his chest.

His eyes wide and chest heaving the second the two of you were alone and your eyes met. A deeply rich golden invisible thread darting from his chest to yours.

He had unconsciously poured all his emotions of recognizing the bond down your connection. A primal need to be closer to you bursting from his chest as he tugged on the bond.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t seem surprised he noted. Your side of the bond closed off tightly he could feel nothing from your end. He hated that.

Your eyes were wide in apprehension as you stared at him, tears lining your eyes as his emotions of love and devotion were so strong they brought him to his knees before you. Pleading and desperate as he called out your name.

“Don’t do this, Cassian.”

His brows pinched together as he reached for you, the bond screaming in agony as you avoided his touch and stood up to create some space between the two of you.

“Dove, listen to me. Please.” He was not above begging, still kneeled in the center of the room as his wings slumped to the ground. His eyes following your every move as you nervously ran your fingers through your hair.

“I feel it, I feel you.” His fingers and hands were steady as he pointed to his chest despite the feeling of anxiety creeping into him.

“You’re mine, my mate, dove.”

There was a beat of silence, Cassian staring at you as if you had delicately placed every beautiful star in the sky. But you had never seen him look at you like that before.

Never had he inclined he wanted you besides the bond. Gods, did it hurt. Your stomach churned sadly as your fingers balled into fist as you shook your head in denial.

“No. No, you don’t get to just suddenly want me because of the bond. I don’t want it this way.”

His frown deepened at your words, your emotions so heavily felt they started to crack the walls you kept up and pouring into the bond.

You had known for years. Five years, you had known and said nothing. “Gods, Cassian! I have loved you for so long. Prayed and begged to the Mother, to the Cauldron, to the Moon and Stars to have you return my affection and you didn’t.”

Cassian wanted to speak, to protest your words but the frustrated tears pouring down your beautiful face and the agony building in his chest, that was no longer just his, kept him quiet. “I’ve watched you pine and love others, and you have never looked at me that way. You had never thought me worthy of you in that way, and now that you know. It shouldn’t change a thing.”

“But it does,” His fingers itched to devote themselves to you. To memorize every curve and dip on your body. “It changes everything-”

You cut him off before he could continue, before he could tell you that he now felt worthy of loving you. That he now knew he could love you in a way you deserved if the Mother had blessed him with you as his wonderful mate. “Well it shouldn’t.”

You sniffled softly as you stared at him directly in his eyes, “I don’t want it to.”

#cassian #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

590 notes · View notes

tigersharkapologist · 16 days ago

Text

Septimius Geta and Septimius Caracalla Headcanons

headcanons for these dorks because if I dont put this out there I’ll explode, also some au things in here⊹ ࣪ ˖

TW: mentions of child abuse and murder 𓃦

Geta 𓃭

- oh the angst on this one

- He grew up very insecure about his complexion, namely his hair. Not many in Rome were born ginger. He’d get compared to the barbaric tribes they were taking over.

- A lot of the elders would whisper about he and his brother being a bad omen from the gods.

“The last time we had an emporer who bore a fire branded mane, Rome was burning while a fiddle played.”.. they would say..

- He and his brother heard the stories of such evil rulers as bed time stories told by their mother, Julia.

- It was tradition for every heir to the throne to hear these in hopes that it would scare them into growing, well, not evil.

- Yeah this just gave them nightmares, caracalla frequently sought his brother for solace, wailing that one of the “vile ones” (past not so great sadistic emperors) was under his bed.

- Geta’s favorite snack is Enkhytoi!

- He and his brother would frequently raid the Head Chef’s kitchen for the sweet pastries.

- They were seldom caught in action, but you could always tell it was them due to the lingering scent of honey and the obvious crumbs on their faces.

- Geta did not care for roughhousing, but he LOVED exploring the outskirts of Rome when Pater and Mamma werent looking.

- He would, of course, bring Caracalla with him on these little adventures, but he usually had to be the cautious one since Caracalla would frequently stray too close to something dangerous.

- Speaking of Pater, they would frequently avoid their father, Emperor Septimius, to the best of their ability. He was scary, mean, and had a temper that would rival mars’ if the twins so much as looked weak.

- Geta was frequently name called “Maculosus” by his peers, as it wasn’t uncommon for him to be riddled with bruises on his arms and chest.

- These bruises are large, not made by tiny fists. It was very clear to those that saw his bruises that they weren’t made by his twin.

- The earliest these marks appeared on Geta and his twin were the age of 9.

- The Praetorian saw these bruises, time after time without fail. They did not like it. Not one bit.

- Anyway! Geta and Caracalla were uneducated in arts, sciences and mathematics. Very strange for up and coming rulers. Mamma and Pater were very neglectful in this aspect (as well as many others).

- Geta and Caracalla grew up longing and seeking for relationships that would fill their mommy issues specifically. (you can see why none of them worked out). They both use indulgence as a way to cope.

- His favorite animals are lions, all big cats (known to Roman knowledge), really.

- He has a “pet” lion named Mel. Mel is an undefeated champion in the Colosseum. He’s constantly pampered and overfed. Kinda chunky but that’s how Geta likes him. Sometimes, when Caracalla allows it, Mel gets to sleep in their room.

- Geta was a peanut allergy kid but grew out of it.

Caracalla 𓃸

- oh the angst on THIS one.

- favorite animals are monkeys and apes. Hence, Dondas.

- neurodivergent

- Dondas was given to Caracalla at the age of 15 and has stuck with Caracalla his whole life.

- Dondas is a comfort creature for Caracalla. She can tell when Caracalla is entering or is in one of his episodes and her presence alone is enough to comfort her hurting owner.

- Caracalla feels immensely guilty and angry towards Geta for his sacrifices. Geta, almost every time their Pater entered one of his rampages, took the hits meant for him (this is canon so not really a headcanon but still)

- Caracalla feels like he owes Geta something and he hates it. Many times he wishes it was him that took the blows, not Geta.

- Due to the pressures of the time, being protected in such a way instead of receiving the strikes himself made him feel “less manly” and weaker than his brother. He came to resent Geta instead of their abusive father.

- if I didn’t list stockholm syndrome before—the stockholm syndrome on this one somebody help him

- To protect himself, Caracalla’s mind has completely forgot all of his childhood (except the beatings and the—albeit rare—good times. This led him associating the good times with the beatings, that they must have done something bad to deserve “discipline”. That their Pater was very loving and cared for them deeply. )

- He developed syphilis at the age of 18 and dimentia two years later.

- He started suffering from lead poisoning at the age of 22.

- He has frequent visits with the medicus and healers. They tended to feel like family the more he went. They genuinely cared about his wellbeing, how strange. This was nice.

- His favorite food is anything from the sea. Snapper, grouper, flounder, if it swims it’s fair game. He also loves shellfish! He has had every type Rome could offer,, except for shrimp, which he has an allergy to. He will refuse to eat anything raw, however. Not for safety precautions—he couldn’t care less—it’s just gross to him.

- Yes, he shares his seafood with Dondas.

- Caracalla takes very good care of his hair! He spends 30 minutes every day preening it. Unfortunately, his efforts are to no avail when it comes to bed heads. He wakes up? Every effort wasted. But at least his bed head is fluffy and not at all crusty. Think highland cow.

- Another insecurity? Acne. He’s extremely insecure about it and hates the way it looks and feels. It hurts sometimes.

- He’s had acne his whole adult life, it just won’t go away.

- Back to his hair, like Geta, he’s insecure about its color. Even when many women have insisted that they thought it was gorgeous, with its red and gold hues, he still didn’t feel any better about it.

- Caracalla and his brother like to wear extravagant and expensive clothing to distract from the hair. They often wear their laurels for the same purpose (also they just think it looks awesome—it does).

- On a side note, Caracalla and Geta are terrified of the Praetorian. Yes, their very sworn protectors that are here only to serve them. The guard does a pretty good job, and the twin emperors have used them when necessary (for example when they almost got shot by a stray arrow)! But they both just cant shake the feeling that the Praetorian have it out for them (they do not). Though they would never admit it, the two see themselves as some of the worst emperors Rome has seen (the worst they’ve done is spend millions in tax payer money to fund for their Golden Parties and daily extravaganzas, not to forget the gladiator fights), and the Praetorian are notorious for taking out such emperors.

- They’re literally not that bad, there have been LEAGUES worse than them.

- Caracalla often has staring contests with random Praetorians to like? assert dominance I guess? A sort of “hey!! Im not afraid of you!! yes I am someone hold me.” The guards dont get scared by it they just get immensely concerned and confused as to why one of their emperors is death staring them into oblivion. It actually freaks them out so I guess the staring works.?

- As you can see the two have major paranoia issues.

- He commissioned a local carpenter to make Dondas a mini palace. Yes, he paid with tax money 💀

- He wishes he could spend more time with Geta. He’s usually out partying and indulging, but Medicus’ orders have put a restriction on him recently.

- He has night terrors often, one specific night terror involved him slitting his brother’s neck with the help of a certain Macrinus. (STOP LET ME HAVE THIS IT WAS JUST A DREAM CARACALLA KILLED GETA IN A DREAM THERE IS NO SEVERED HEAD SHUT UP SHUT UP Cries Sobs Vomits Throws Up Pees My Pants)

- Caracalla wants a mom

- Caracalla can sing very well! It’s a talent that very few know of—even his brother doesn’t know

- Impatient with himself and others

- Was accused of being the murderer of his father (he is not and actually heard his father’s dying cries at the age of 16, he was a floor above the murder. He was heavily affected by said murder. Geta was not.)

- Deep fear of dogs and anything resembling canidae features. He tried to order the removal of any and all Capitoline Wolf statues but was denied due to it being an integral part of Roman culture.

- The two above are related

#HOOH finally finished this #im so normal #do not tag as ship #gladiator headcanons part 1 #gladiator au #tact gladiator tag #emperor caracalla headcanons #emperor geta headcanons #caracalla #geta #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #septimius severus #julia domna #gladiator ii #tactspeaks

118 notes · View notes

naomikozura · 5 months ago

Text

Love of My Life: Part 1

Heian Era! Sukuna Ryomen x Sorcerer!Fem!Reader

A/N: Although the first part of this story only mentions the ending of the story, this will be a MULTIPLE part story. The first part does not contain as heavy content but OTHER PARTS WILL. ALL parts are dark themes and have heavy topics. The second part of this story will contain more DARK THEMES and is a work of FICTION. I will post the exact warnings and details when the second part gets published but this is your warning for what to expect. Again it is a DARK THEME story so 18+ ONLY MDNI

Warnings: strong language, violence, mention of mass murder, angst, generational trauma, complicated family dynamics, family abuse, murder, motional turmoil and abuse, manipulation, sadistic tendencies (slight), corruption of power, dark themes (slight)

WC: 8.6K

Summary: The story of the infamous King of Curses has been around for hundreds of years, proving him to be the most feared sorcerer in the entire jujutsu realm. But the truth of what happened that led to the ultimate annihilation of his humanity has been concealed, almost erased. There was a time back in the Heian era when Ryomen Sukuna did have a shred of humanity left… but the loss of it resulted in the creation of the destructive monster he would later become.

Series Masterlist

Prologue || Part 2

Heian Era, 6 Months Before the Burning of Aurora

“Again”

“Again.”

“Again!”

The deep rumble that came from your father led you to the brink, pushing you further into a pit of exhaustion. You’d already been out here for 8 hours, your father’s relentlessness wearing you down but by bit.

“Y/n! I need you to focus!”, he yelled.

You knew your father was level-headed, smart, but since your birth he’d done nothing but train you to be strong and gifted when it came to your ability. Your clan relied on you just like every heir before you, to bring your family honor and grace. You had spent the better years of your adolescence learning about the history of your bloodline, the history of jujutsu, and learning basic technique but now as an adult there was more room for you to be pushed to the brink to train for your special ability.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today.”, your father walked over to you, your arm swiping the sweat off your forehead. “Get home and into a bath, we have dinner with the Zen’in clan tonight.”

A pang of hurt spread through your chest. Among all the training, all the history lessons, all your talent and power, your life was still forced into the hands of your father. You hadn’t only spent the better years of your adolescence learning about jujutsu and your technique, but also the fundamentals of what it meant to be a bride. You knew it was traditionally passed through generations for two families to join together through marriage but a part of you still felt hurt that your father had lined up 3 suitors for your hand. Never once considering your own feelings on the matter.

The Zen’in clan was just one of the three families who produced male heirs around the time you were born. Almost like it was predetermined, the arrangement for your betrothal to one of the main family’s sons was set in stone for you the day your mother held you for the first time. You hated the idea that your life wouldn’t be your own if you married into any of the Three Families, but you knew your duty deep down even into the marrow of your bones.

Once you’d arrived home you soaked in the bath, the maids helped you wash your body of the dirt and grime and helped wash your hair as they massaged a cleansing type of gel into it. You felt the tension in your muscles dissipate with each pass of the sponge and each massage they did in your hair.

Getting dressed for these types of occasions was tiring, feeling the pull of your hair being done in an elegant manner to showcase the beauty of your natural features, your complexion barely needed any powder to make it more presentable. You were beautiful, every sorcerer within the lands knew you were the most coveted and eligible bride due to your family bloodline, your ability, and your beauty. Unfortunately for many, your life was already selected to be given away within the families, not outside of them.

You pulled on your traditional gown, wearing your family's seal colors as you put on a red headpiece that brought out your features beautifully. Red adorned your family home, your sigil painting in the bright crimson to signify strength, sacrifice, protection, and hope. You always felt proud to wear the seal colors yet you couldn’t help but feel like there was no hope for you.

Your family sat in the common area, the Zen’in members sitting properly around the table while the heads talked amongst themselves. You looked over at the eldest son, his dark hair and deep brown eyes striking as he looked at you. He was handsome no doubt, probably a suitable husband but you couldn’t bring yourself to envision a future with him. Despite your wishes, you’d probably marry into the Zen’in family. It was the most logical, beneficial and strategic marriage that your father would have picked for you.

The dinner was simple, quick, a formality to get you and the Zen’in son, Zetsubou Zen’in, introduced. You knew who he was, but never met him in person until now. He was charming, smart, powerful but there was a darkness to him. Something he hid all too well, you wondered if his family knew about his dark tendencies that he kept hidden from the rest of his clan. You knew a marriage to him would be selling your life away, you’d be a shell of a human being with him. He would only bring you hate and despair.

Once the night had ended and you started to unwind, you fell onto your bed and stared at the ceiling, taking in the moonlight that bled through the cracks before turning and looking out the window at all the stars that illuminated the village. Where could the endless reach of the sky take you? Would you go far enough away that you disappear and never come back?

You didn't let your mind wander too much before you fell into a slumber, your mind numbing from the evening's events.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Another village raid.” you heard your father’s voice ring out of his meeting room. You had a bad habit of eavesdropping on his meetings, but you knew he’d keep you sheltered from the jujutsu world until you mastered your domain. You knew it wasn’t protective but strategic. Keep you out of the way until you are strong enough to master your domain and keep low risk of his heir dying.

“He killed every single person there, tortured them, stole the energy they possessed. He’s getting stronger with each village he destroys.”, a second voice spoke out, a third muttering in agreement and the fourth person silent as he slammed his drink on the table.

The Four Families rarely met unless it was important, though with the jujutsu realm slowly establishing itself, every meeting was important.

“We need to get our men, the strongest to train and immobilize him otherwise he’ll only continue to get stronger and more power hungry.”, you recognized the Zen’in clan’s leader, his voice prominent due to the countless visits him, his wife, and son had made to your home in the past few weeks. You and Zetsubou were both being groomed to be each other's marital partner, regardless of how much you wish you weren’t.

“I have 20 men who have been training, many of them have sons who are also starting to get their cursed energy under control and starting with the warriors in the coming weeks. We can expedite that training and have them ready in a month's time.”

“The Kamo clan also have a number of men that are willing to fight for the cause. This is the fifth raid in a month, it seems they’re getting more frequent. How much longer until he targets our territories and steals our energies?”, the Kamo clan leader spoke up, his voice much softer than the rest but held his resolve. “We must act as soon as we can”

“Agreed. Until then, we must keep the heirs focused and trained, we can’t have any loose ends”.

He meant you.

You always knew they meant you. From the beginning theyd always second guessed your ability, you were the first woman to inherit your family’s special technique so they had obvious doubts. You’d grown powerful in your ability over the past few years but the one thing you still couldn’t do was create a domain, something the other three heirs had already mastered a year ago.

You left then, heading to the stables in order to prepare for your training this morning. You slid the door open, making your way down to the final stall and seeing your white, brown eyed mare. She was beautiful, a gift from the Zen’in clan as an interest for your hand in marriage.

You tan a hand over her soft coat, the shine illuminated under the morning sun. It wasn’t too late, only an hour or two before midday so you knew she was well fed and hydrated thanks to the stable hands.

Strapping in the saddle on your mare, you ensured you had everything you needed to go into the open fields. They were several miles away and consisted of open fields perfect for training. You really wanted to indulge in your ability, bring yourself to the fullest potential so you went out to the fields to train often. Your father often hated when you would go alone but you’ve managed to convince him that solo practice was important in order to gain control of your ability. Eventually after much consideration and eagerness, he agreed to let you go on your own. You finished packing your food and water for the day, knowing that most of your sessions often lasted the entire morning and led into the evening, and set out early in order to start your training.

You rode through the forest in silence, letting the sound of the animals in the birds around you fill in the empty space, giving you a sense of serenity, knowing that everything was at peace. We often wondered how much it would take to be as free as the birds who flew the skies or the deer grazed in the fields. You thought much of what it would be like to leave, but your path would never allow you to get away from what was set in stone.

Once you arrive at the training grounds, you let your horses graze in the woods, off in the shaded area while tied to a tree with a long rope to ensure it wouldn’t wander off.

You focused, closing your eyes and feeling the wind around you, your body using every one of its senses to connect to the earth and energy within you. You let yourself feel the wind and taste the freshness of the air, the humidity and feeling of water still present from the storm a few days ago. You listened to every chirping bird and snapping branch from the small creatures in the woods, the smell of fresh dew on the grass bringing you to a calming place and filling you with ease.

You channeled the energy into your hands, the small iridescent light glowing as it grew bigger and stronger. Your eyes remained closed as you focused on getting the technique just right. You wanted to show you could master your inherited technique, that your potential wasn’t going to be wasted on a stupid marriage.

You were still the daughter of the L/n Clan and the heir to the familial bloodline. You were more than just someone to be married for political gain.

You swirled the energy in your hands, growing it with each passing second before it reached its brim yet you forced it to get bigger to expand your capacity.

The wind moved around you and started to swirl into the ball of cursed energy you manifested, pushing yourself before you released and let the energy target some of the trees, exploding on impact and causing a ripple effect that made the birds fly out of the trees and some of the animals run away.

You let out a shaky breath before repeating the steps, this time trying to focus on using your technique on the cursed dummy you had in front of you. You’d often get other sorcerers to cast cursed energy into props in order to help practice your Aurora, each time more precise than the last.

You closed your eyes, blinking them slowly as they glowed in a bright, iridescent green color, focusing all your energy on the prop. You raised a hand to manipulate the individual building blocks, watching as the prop contorted and turning into a deformed figure before a screech released from the inside. It was a cursed spirit inside the prop screaming for mercy. You narrowed your eyes and continued to rip apart the existence of the cursed spirit, pulling its atoms apart piece by piece as the screams intensified before they stopped completely due to the implosion of its figure.

You let out a breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead before starting from square one. You continued for hours, using more of the cursed objects and using them to strengthen your ability.

Once evening arrived, you packed everything, walking to the mare and swinging your leg over her back and shifted to get comfortable. As you were getting ready to leave you heard a crack in the woods, but this time the energy felt different. Your head turned to look at the opposing side of the woods, narrowing your eyes and trying to feel if there were any cursed spirits out. Confused, you turned, nudging your mare towards the direction of L/n House.

The unknown energy slowly growing after you’d left the field.

You had spent the next few days training out in the field, slowly growing in your strength and technique as each session passed. Your father was still weary of your being alone in the fields but with everyday passing and you coming home safely, he began to trust your routine. You still followed a training regiment with him every other day and did your history studies on the weekends. You were all around intelligent, strong, gifted, and resilient.

You pushed yourself back, dodging the hit from the cursed dummy you had made to pose as a fighter with you. It wasn’t strong but it wasn’t weak. A good mid tier practice dummy to help build your endurance. The dummy charged at you as you jumped over it, spinning your body in a flawless way that made you seem like the village dancers during any major celebration.

In the final blow, you swung your foot around, kicking it perfectly in the head before pushing your hand forward, knocking it down before using your ability to disfigure the dumb thing and make it implode in itself, the shrill of pain ringing out before it fell silent. It felt no real pain. Your father said listening to their cries often helped take away their effect. it was the way your enemies guilt tripped sorcerers into submitting to empathy. You knew when you needed to be empathetic and needed to be heartless, even if you didn’t like it.

The sound of snapping made you turn, your hair sticking to your forehead as you met the dark gaze of crimson eyes. You felt your chest jump slightly in surprise but quickly relaxed once you’d let yourself calm with the wind.

Your hair was tied in a high ponytail, your skin glossy from the evening sun as you trained in the field in the outskirts of your home. You looked him over, taking in his menacing appearance which, for you, had no effect in the way you saw him. His skin was tan with dark marks embedded into his skin, the tattoos moving in a swirl of different directions but added to his edge. He wore a robe that showed his muscular chest, his hair messy and weighed down by his sweat. There was no question that the strongest sorcerer would be huge in comparison to the daughter of one of the Four Clan’s leaders, yet the size difference still gave him a swirl of emotion.

You looked at him in a way he hadn’t been looked at before. Your eyes staring at him, almost like calculating his every move as he slowly walked towards you. Ryomen hid the shock in his body when he reached you, pushing down his need to physically express his taken aback reaction. Many people in the world would be in shock, fear, buckle under the weight of his possessive hold over any room or space he occupied. Many people bowed at his feet, begged for mercy from his ruthlessness, he was feared. The story people told their children to keep them well mannered.

And yet, you stood a foot away from him and met his gaze in relaxed confidence. Your eyes held curiosity, not fear. Your body was laid back, not shaking or trembling at his presence. You didn’t buckle at the overwhelming pull of his presence instead you embraced it and met him with your own confidence. You were secure in yourself enough that you held no fear towards him.

His eyes scanned your features, taking in every inch of you in your mutual silence. Your eyes were bright, with the sun making them dark, he could see how they lit up with curiosity and wonder. Your lips and nose were perfectly fitted to your face, making the balance of your features appear more heavenly than anything. It made you attractive, beautiful to everyone who came in contact with you. Your (h/c) hair complemented the tone of your skin and left him wanting to run his fingers through it. He recoiled internally at the thought. When would he ever think such a way towards someone lesser than him?

Were you lesser than him?

He stared at you in observation, an overwhelming sense consuming him. He could kill you easily, snap your neck and make your death seem like one of the families did it and start an all out war. You were so fragile despite your toned body from the obvious years of training. He could just reach over and make you implode from just one touch.

So why didn’t he?

In this moment, against all his beliefs, he considered you his equal. He never considered anyone even remotely close to his realm of power and yet you existed. You showed no fear, you felt secure in yourself, and even being face to face with a morally flawed man, you looked at him with gentle eyes.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, the silence falling over the both of you in a comforting blanket.

In that moment he knew you held power over him, especially when you broke the silence first.

“Is there something you need?”, your voice was soft, relaxed. Had you been anyone else, someone questioning his being in any location would have annoyed him but you asked in such a way that left him soaking in the echoes of your words.

“I’m just passing by.”, he replied, wondering when did he ever answer anyone else’s questions when they’d ask?

“Oh, I hope my training doesn’t stop you from getting where you need to be.”

His curiosity overcame him, making him wonder more about your family. He knew about the L/n clan's heir, young and beautiful, strong and intelligent, soft and gentle. It made her the perfect face for their house and a suitable bride. He’d heard of the Gojo, Zenin, and Kamo clans grooming their first sons to be suitable men to ask for her hand in marriage.

A piece of him churned with an irritation at the thought of you being primed and groomed into marrying someone in an arranged marriage.

“Not at all.”, he replied, his deep voice ringing in your ears. You've heard a lot of Ryomen Sukuna. Your clan elders mention his lack of empathy, his overwhelming power and how he easily could reach an unbeatable level of cursed energy that would make anyone think twice about crossing his path. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of him as scary or evil. There was curiosity in the way he held himself and how he had yet to retaliate against your question when everyone knew he hated being questioned.

“You’re far from your clan lands”, he said flatly, his eyes focused on your form.

“I can use my full potential here.”, you blinked. “It’s hard to push myself to the brink if I don’t have open space. At least here I can unleash everything and learn from my mistakes”, you clenched your hand, looking at the small burst of energy in your hand.

The silence filled the air, once again leaving you in a strange tension you couldn’t quite place. His eyes stayed focused on you before he began to walk past you. His silence leaving you confused, unsure of why stop to talk to you then leave without another word. Then again, he wasn’t going to extend himself to something so minuscule, so mundane.

He was far above that.

Far above you.

“Help me.”, you spoke, watching as he stopped in his tracks.

What were you doing? Requesting someone like him to help someone as insignificant as you.

You’d heard the stories, been told the horrors of his actions and wrath. Ryomen Sukuna was a selfish, greedy, immoral and sadistic man, he brought any competent sorcerer to their knees by simply occupying the space. He believed himself above absolutely everyone in every way and you knew that undeniable truth. You were risking your life speaking to him like he owed you something, asking for help from the devil was brainless even for you.

He stared at you in indifference, taken by your confidence yet he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. A part of him was intrigued by you, even though he hated helping others, he wasn’t necessarily a charitable man. No, he was far from it. The complete opposite of it in fact. He should blow your head off, snap your neck, make you kneel and beg for your life.

Yet, he indulged.

Just this once.

You watched as he removed his robe, leaving him in a loose fitting shirt that showed his arms perfectly. They were muscular and defined, wielding such power that could easily kill someone in one touch. You wondered if he’d killed anyone with his bare hands without his abilities or cursed energy before.

The small flicker of energy that manifested in his hand caught your attention, the manifestation growing in size at an alarming rate but took no toll on his psyche. The years of being gifted with such power and training laid off for him, though you knew he’d always been powerful in his own right.

You watched intently, observing the cursed energy in his hand as you tried to copy the leisure in which he created his. The creation of energy was easy, it was making it compact with force that was difficult for you. You had great mental resilience and capacity for difficult challenges, yet when it came to finding the switch that could make your power compact you struggled slightly.

In every other sense of your ability and cursed energy, you were gifted, it was creating a domain where you lacked. The long days and tumultuous nights of training and reading through scribed records only helped you make sense of a partial reason why you couldn’t manifest a domain, you just needed to actually focus on executing it flawlessly.

“Domain Expansions aren’t easy to manifest.”, you narrowed your eyes slightly at his comment. Why was he trying to dumb it down for you when you knew he was known for manifesting energy at record breaking levels.

“They’re easy enough for you.”, you muttered as his eyes slowly moved to look at you.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Right”, you focused on his words, listening to the instruction he gave, slowly manifesting the energy into your palms.

He watched as you focused, eyes closed as you concentrated on his voice. It was interesting. Seeing as your energy formed in your hands, wondering how you had inherited such a powerful technique and you still struggled with your domain. He couldn’t help wondering why. It was difficult for most sorcerers to manifest a complete domain, but someone with an inherited ability like Eye of Aurora should have some level of giftedness that would allow you to start creating one. He watched your jaw clench as the energy dispersed in your hand, evaporating into nothing.

You released a defeated sigh, letting your shoulders droop as you opened your eyes and staring at the ground in a defeated glare.

“I don’t get it.”, you breathed. “I have this… special ability, a technique that so many sorcerers wish they could use and I can’t even create a damned domain.”

“You’re holding back”, his voice rumbled in his throat, the deep tone sending chills down your spine. Not of fear but of something unknown to you, a sensation that left your heart beating a bit faster than normal.

“Okay”, you muttered. “So show me how to not hold back”

The temperature around you slowly grew, watching as he released an immense amount of energy, causing the trees in front of him to fall from the attack. Your eyes widened at the gaping emptiness he had just created.

Woah.

You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him in a way you could only describe as a mix of shock and awe. The adrenaline burst through you as you channeled your energy, creating a mass in your hands before releasing it, causing a number of trees to fall from the impact. It wasn’t near the caliber of his release but it was still a good conjuring of cursed energy. You knew you’d never reach his level of power, but you felt proud that you could release something at that caliber.

“Let go of that fear of being too unhinged. It’s what holds you back from mastering your domain.”, his voice was deep, your eyes glowing with pride as you felt the after effects of his release. “You can’t master your domain if you care too much about being perfect.”

“I’m not you.”, you answered.

“No one will ever be me.”, you rolled your eyes. You knew that, but you still wanted his help anyway.

A small part of him grew irritated with your slight attitude at his words, but another part found it humorous. It wasn’t very often that a sorcerer at your level could make him find anything humorous. He cared very little, not at all actually, about something as irrelevant as humor or wittiness but coming from you, it made him think he could possibly entertain you for the time being.

He wondered where you got such confidence to not only speak to him freely, but to assume he’d be willing to help you despite his power that was worlds above yours. It wasn’t often there were many humans or sorcerers who didn’t bow to his feet immediately after he became present. He was used to seeing people beg for mercy, used to the people who cried hysterically for him to spare them. He enjoyed the mental torture of never giving away if someone would be spared or not.

So, when you called after him so boldly, against all logic, it intrigued him. He hasn’t been intrigued in a long time, not by a sorcerer in any way especially because he knew he was far above them in every regard. Though he still indulged in your boldness, your lack of fear, by the motivation in your eyes and the drive in your stance.

Before he could even stop himself, he made contact to engage and he believed it to be his biggest mistake. He should have never let you reel him in, never should have let you make him give his time when it was valuable, never should have found you worth the effort.

Then when he didn’t think he could find anything more appealing about you, you smiled at him. It was a warm, full smile. How could you give him a warm welcome when he’s done nothing deserving of it?

“Thanks for the help.”, you laughed, almost in disbelief. “I have to go.”

He watched as you walked over to the mare grazing in the woods, removing the rope from the tree and petting her nose gently. He wondered then how you showed him the same gentleness as the creatures you cared for. His eyes darted away from you, letting himself sit with the realization that you didn’t see him as some godforsaken being.

“Come back tomorrow.”, he called as your head swiveled towards him, your bright eyes meeting his dark ones. “Before the sun reaches its peak.”

With that he turned, leaving you in shock at his demand.

The next day, you did as he had asked, you showed back up to the field ready to train with him. You sat in the grass watching your mare eat while you waited for him. It wasn’t too hot yet but again, it was too early for it to even be warm.

The sound of cracking branches sounded behind you, making you turn slowly as you watched Sukuna’s form emerge from the trees. He stood tall in all his glory, wearing clothes that hung off his body in a way that almost made your face heat up. Even in his dark aura and the intensity of his energy, you couldn’t deny that Ryomen Sukuna was also an attractive man. If your father could hear the thoughts you were having, he’d surely punish you with more physical training.

“Good morning.”, you said softly, his deep red eyes meeting yours but not saying anything as he walked closer to you. You either were too naive for your own good, or you genuinely didn’t realize just how out of turn you were being. Sukuna was known for not liking when people spoke to him out of turn, he hated small talk. He believed it to be useless, a waste of time, and of no benefit. You didn’t need to start with pleasantries but you did so anyway.

“Show me your energy.”, he spoke deeply, his eyes boring into yours as you snapped to attention. You needed to focus, needed to take the most of this time while you could. Sukuna never offered any time of his to a regular person, let alone sorcerers beneath him, this was the only chance you had to gain real insight on how to create strong energy and create your domain.

You manifested a ball of energy into your hands, its vibrant glow pulsing with your heartbeat. The energy crackled and shifted, reflecting your concentration and intent. Sukuna's gaze remained intense, unblinking, as he observed your creation with a mixture of interest and impatience.

"Is this all you can muster?" His voice was a low growl, almost mocking. "You think that will impress me?"

You felt a surge of determination, pushing deeper into your focus. The ball of energy began to expand, growing larger and more intense. You could feel the strain as you struggled to maintain control, your palms growing warm as the energy surged.

"Energy is more than just a display," Sukuna said, his tone suddenly softer, almost contemplative. "It’s about precision, purpose. Show me not just what you can create, but how well you can wield it."

You tightened your grip, trying to focus. The energy swirled and shifted, forming intricate patterns that mirrored your intent. The ball began to take shape, its structure becoming more complex, more refined. You could almost feel the boundaries of your energy beginning to take form, the energy coalescing into a stronger, more cohesive entity.

Sukuna’s eyes flickered with something akin to approval, though his expression remained impassive. "Better. But don’t think for a moment that you’ve reached the limit of what you can achieve. This is merely the beginning."

He moved towards you, his energy radiating off of him as you felt him consume yours, his body close as he looked at you. The obvious height difference made it seem like he was pitying you, but he seemed more interested in helping than anything else. His head lowered, meeting your eye line as he looked straight ahead, looking at the trees ahead of you.

You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure of Sukuna’s proximity. His face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath, mingling with the charged air around you. The energy you had summoned pulsed violently in response to the tension, making you sweat and your heart race.

Sukuna’s eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity. “Let the energy reflect your resolve,” he demanded, his voice a commanding rumble.

You focused on the ball of energy, feeling its weight and power. The intensity of Sukuna’s presence only made it harder to concentrate, as if the very air around you was charged with his overwhelming aura. You grit your teeth as you tried to calm your heart rate down, focusing on keeping the energy stable as you manifested it into something bigger.

“Are you letting your concentration waver?” Sukuna’s voice was almost a whisper now, his breath hot against your cheek. “You think you can achieve mastery with such weakness?”

Your fingers ached as you fought to maintain control. The ball of energy fluctuated, its glow flickering with your wavering focus. Sukuna’s proximity made it even harder to maintain your composure; the heat radiating from his presence was almost unbearable.

“Feel the energy,” he instructed, his tone full of challenge. “Channel your emotions, your fear, your determination. Let it all flow into your control.”

The heat from the energy was now almost unbearable, merging with the heat of Sukuna’s presence. Your hands were on fire, and the energy sphere seemed to pulse with a life of its own. With every breath you took, the tension grew, making your entire body quiver.

“You can do better,” Sukuna said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But you must push through the discomfort. It’s not just about controlling the energy—it’s about mastering your own limits.”

Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, but you forced yourself to focus. The energy within your hands began to stabilize, the chaotic flickers giving way to a steady, powerful glow. The sphere grew larger, its form more defined, as you channeled every ounce of your willpower into it.

Sukuna’s face remained close, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re almost there,” he said deeply. “Show me that you’re more than just a fleeting display of power.”

The strain was immense, but you felt a surge of determination. With one final push, you stabilized the energy, making it surge with newfound strength and clarity. The heat from both the energy and Sukuna’s presence reached a peak before slowly subsiding, leaving you gasping but triumphant.

Sukuna stepped back, his gaze finally breaking from yours. “Not bad,” he conceded, a smirk playing on his lips.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you with a cool, detached scrutiny. The intensity of his presence remained, but his demeanor was notably indifferent. The air between you was charged, the energy still crackling faintly as it dissipated, but Sukuna’s expression betrayed little of the effort you’d put forth.

“It’s enough for tonight,” Sukuna said flatly, his voice carrying an authoritative finality. He took a step back and broke the close proximity though his presence still loomed large. His tone was almost dismissive, as if your efforts were merely a minor inconvenience to him. “You’ve put in your time. Come back tomorrow if you think you can do better.”

You exhaled slowly, your body trembling slightly from the exertion and the intense atmosphere. The heat that had enveloped you gradually cooled, leaving a satisfying ache in its wake. The weight of his indifference stung more than any overt criticism. You felt a pang of frustration mixed with weariness. Despite the effort you’d expended, Sukuna’s gaze remained aloof, as if your struggle was inconsequential.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. “I’ll be here,” you said, your voice steady despite the exhaustion.

Sukuna merely inclined his head in acknowledgment, his face expressionless. “Good,” he replied. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing with a finality that left little room for interpretation. As he walked away, his imposing figure gradually disappearing into the shadows, you remained in place for a moment longer, your thoughts racing.

You stood there for a moment, the weight of his detached dismissal settling over you. The path ahead was clear, but it felt colder and more daunting in the face of Sukuna’s lack of concern. Still, you gathered your resolve and made your way out, determined to return and prove yourself despite his apparent lack of interest.With a final glance at the space where Sukuna had been, you turned and made your way out of the training grounds, the weight of his words and the promise of future trials hanging heavily in the air.

Tomorrow, you would return, ready to push your limits once again.

Two weeks later

You went out into the woods, riding your mare as you tried to reach the field for your training with Sukuna. He’d helped you the past few weeks, showing you how to manifest your energy and create your domain. You’d been close to creating a full domain several times, he said you just needed to not hold back. You both figured out the reason you couldn’t create a domain was because a subconscious part of you made you hesitate, you wouldn’t allow yourself to reach your full potential. He’d slowly been showing you to let go and embrace your cursed energy fully.

You hummed as you made your way down the small hill on the embedded path that led to the other side of the woods. Almost like a shot to the chest, you felt a chill run down your spine, an immense amount of cursed energy being aimed at you. Before you could react, you felt the sheer force collide into you and your mare, the loud groan escaping her as she collided with a tree. You were thrown completely off, your body slamming into the boulders on the ground, the feeling of blood running down the side of your head making you queasy. Your vision blurred slightly, you were disoriented.

What the hell?

You saw the grueling sight of a disfigured wolf, its body three times the size of a normal one and it had six eyes, its mouth jagged and its teeth rotten as it laughed as it ate your mare. Your eyes widened at the sight, but you couldn’t focus on your now dead companion. You needed to exorcize it and get back home. You were still a mile from the fields, but you couldn’t get there in time, you needed to end this now.

You forced yourself to your feet, the blood running over your eye as you tried to focus on the cursed spirit. You let yourself manifest your cursed energy quickly, focusing on the cursed wolf before aiming at its head, a loud cry escaping its monstrous mouth. The snarl escaped its throat as it ran at you, your body releasing more cursed energy at it and watching as you blew a hole into its shoulder.

There needed to be a way to do this quickly, your body faltering at the dizziness in your head. You were losing too much blood but if you passed out you were as good as dead. You tried to focus, you couldn’t die here. You couldn’t die at the jaws of some mid grade curse. You were a L/n. You were above these types of curses. You were the gifted one, the heir of the L/n clan. The disgrace you’d bring onto your family if you were to die at this moment.

Just then, the cursed wolf ran at you, channeling your energy and sending it full force, watching as it jumped over your attack and lunged at you. Your eyes widened as you jumped off to the side, your body rolling down the hill as it hit the bushes and shrubbery, surely gaining cuts and bruises from the foliage.

Fuck!

You tried getting to your feet, pushing yourself up only to be tackled by the damned thing, your body collapsing and continuing to roll down the drop of the hill, reaching for some sort of branch to keep you from falling further down.

The pain in your body overcame you, letting you slip into unconsciousness for a split second as you tried to regain your thoughts. The blurriness wouldn’t allow you to see your surroundings until the jaws of death snapped in your face, the momentum pushing you back.

“Get off!”, you forced the creature off of you with a surge of energy, struggling to get to your feet as you sucked in a deep breath. You were in fight or flight, and right now flight did not seem like a viable option.

The wicked snarl rang out again as the cursed wolf seemed to radiate unbelievable negative energy. It lunged at you, its teeth ready to rip you apart but before it could you felt a surge of power overwhelm the space, a loud high pitched cry escaping the throat of the creature. You let out a breath of air, turning to look at the blurry figure next to you, your breath uneven as another light manifested in a white, blinding power before completely evaporating into nothing.

Your breath was uneven, trying to calm yourself, but just as the spirit disappeared, your body collapsed to the ground as you slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~

The warm blankets around your body helped with the soreness that overcame you, your eyes still hazy from the slumber you were in. You moved your head slightly, your hair splayed around you in a halo as you tried to move your arms. You felt a presence next to you, trying to focus your sight as you blinked, taking in the comfort you felt from the figure.

Sukuna…

“Don’t get up.”, his voice was deep, careful yet with command in its tone.

“W..what happened?”, you whispered, your head turned in his direction as you met his gaze, the feeling of his fingers brushing your hair back bringing a warmth into your chest. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my home.”, he turned, motioning for a white haired woman to bring more water. “You lost some blood trying to fight that cursed spirit. I killed it.”

“Oh..”, the white haired woman came back with a small bowl and towel, bowing before leaving. You relaxed in his touch as he placed the wet towel on your head, helping clean the remains of the blood on your skin.

“You need to rest.”, he said firmly.

“I need to get back home”, you looked at him with pleading eyes, not wanting your family to have a reason not to trust you being out on your own. You needed to get home soon, and fast.

“You’ll pass out before you even reach your territory.”, Sukuna’s red eyes had a darkness to them, but you chose to ignore it, your mind everywhere and without a care of the extent of your injuries. You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, gentle to not burn your skin with the energy he had conjured up due to his irritation with your injuries.

“Sukuna, my father will send scouts looking for me.”

“Fuck them.”, his tone was sharp, his energy slowly growing in size. Your pleading e/c eyes looking deep into his, a sharp sting of sympathy flooded his veins before he released the negative cursed energy. The crack in his armor miniscule yet it created waves of confusion in him. How could you make him slip in his position with just one look?

He ignored the thought, narrowing his eyes before standing and walking to the small wooden dresser, picking up your clothes and placing them on the table next to his bed. You watched as he turned towards the door to give you privacy, his body dressed in his usual robe but you could still see the outline of his muscles and the massive power his body held. You couldn’t help but take a moment and admire his body. Your mind took in every inch of his being, allowing yourself to forget about his crimes and cruelty in order to study him. Were you fucked in the head?

You snapped out of the hold his presence had on you, reaching for your clothes only to realize he’d had them cleaned. Was it that woman who cleaned them for you?

You changed, carefully and stood out of the bed, touching your head as you felt the fresh bandages wrapped around your forehead and temples. Pushing the sliding door open, you revealed him waiting for you, his tall statue leaning against the wall as his eyes skimmed over your body before pushing the glint in his eyes away. You both didn’t say a word, you just followed him as he walked out of his home.

He led you through the woods, ensuring you’d arrive to L/n House in one piece and conscious. When you were within range you turned to him, looking up to meet his gaze due to the obvious height difference.

“Thank you.”, was all you said before turning, walking the last half mile home, feeling his eyes on your back as you followed the path. It was only when you reached the entrance of your home did you feel his energy disappear and your shoulders slumped in disappointment.

You slowly pushed the door open, closing it softly behind you when the echo of your father’s voice rang through the room.

“Y/n, it’s late, where have you been?”, your father called from the other room, your mother rushing towards you before a loud gasp escaped her mouth.

“Y/n! What happened to your head?”, her question made your father rush into the room, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

“Where have you been? How did this happen?!”, his tone was heavy, it wasn’t worry but anger and you knew he was more annoyed by your injury than worried about it. “You can’t possibly be getting this from your special ability?”

You could read in between the lines of his words. He wasn’t worried you were hurt, he was annoyed by you being injured at the effects of your domain and special technique. He was annoyed that he would have to face scrutiny for not being able to master your ability and domain, thus leaving him with a weaker claim to the family honor than he originally thought. He already hated that you were what the gods had given him to carry the family name, you being weak was just another hit at his pride. Regardless of how the realm saw you, regardless of how you were loved and respected, to him you’d always be the reason he didn’t have a high claim like the other families of the Four did.

“Do you really believe I’m so weak I can’t control my own technique?”, you stared at him in disbelief, in hurt. “Do you think so little of me?”

“You are the heir to our family name! If you can’t control your technique then what have I spent the past 20 years of my life doing?!”, his voice was filled with conviction, the anger bursting through each word. “We already have a weaker claim to our position in the realm because you were born as a daughter instead of a son and now you show up like this? We need you to be strong, intelligent, and better than those other boys, and you still show me more reasons why you should have never inherited the Eye of Aurora.”

You felt your lips quiver slightly, the lump in your throat growing as you tried to stop yourself from cursing your father. You knew he’d always hated that you weren’t born his son, but you believed if you proved him wrong he’d have no choice but to find pride in you and your power to succeed the L/n name. You couldn’t take his unrealistic standard of you anymore, you just couldn’t.

“I am not here to fix your broken ego or make your insecurities better.”, you growled at him. “I am your only heir, I am the inheritor of the Eye of Aurora, and I am the reason our family has a place in the Four families! Me! I’m the one who’s loved and adored by the other families and villages. I am the one they seek to protect, the one they seek to continue in this time of peace without war. When I was born, so was our legacy. You have done nothing to solidify our claim to the realm but I have!”

The anger boiling inside your father was overwhelming, your frustration with him was a disgrace but you couldn’t take it anymore. You were tired of being seen as some weak woman by him, as some sort of disappointment when you were the greatest thing that had happened to the realm in decades. The Eye of Aurora was seen as one of the highest of abilities, that of nobility. Your insolent father was too obsessed with power and reputation to care that you were the successor of a noble jujutsu bloodline.

“You are nothing without our family name. You need to get your technique under control or so help me. I'll have the old sorcerers from the Zen’in clan exorcize it out of you and let your body rot without your ancestors to guide you!!”, his voice echoed through the halls.

You sensed an overwhelming power, sucking in a breath before releasing your own. A pang of shock at its sudden appearance before relaxing. The energy had disappeared.

“It wasn’t even my ability that did this! I got attacked by a cursed wolf in the woods!”, you spat back at him.

“And you didn’t think to send a signal for help or try to use your technique?!”

“I was getting attacked from every blind spot I had! It killed my mare, it jumped me from behind, I didn't even sense the energy before it was too late!”

“Great so now you can’t sense cursed energy. You really are just a sorry excuse of an heir, a defective worthless waste of potential!”

The dagger twisted deeper into your chest at his words. Why couldn’t he understand? Why was he so selfish, insolent, and greedy?

“You’re the heir to our family bloodline and you almost get killed. It would be better off that way.”, he turned to walk out of the room, with your mother closely behind him. You pitied her lack of backbone, lack of support towards you.

“I was fine!”, you snapped. “Sukuna helped me exorcize it, I didn’t need help from anyone else!”

A cold sensation filled the room, realizing your words as you said them. Your eyes meeting your father’s as he turned towards you. His eyes filled with a shock and disgust that left you feeling sick to your stomach.

“What…. Did you just say?” his voice sent a chill down your spine. “Did you say… Ryomen Sukuna… helped you?”

“I-“, a loud slap echoed through the air, your head snapping to the side from the impact. Your eyes wide in disbelief as the burning in your cheek exploded through your face. It felt like time stopped, the whiplash of the hit burning a hole in your chest.

“You were with that monster?!”, his booming voice filled the house, his cursed energy radiating off of him in waves. “What do you think you’re doing with that thing? He could have killed you! He’s a sadistic monster!”

You remained silent as you felt the anger fill the room, hearing your mothers gasp at your father’s words. The trembling of your lip almost broke you, your chest burning in anger, hurt, and sadness.

“You are not to go out to the fields again. You stay within L/n house and your training will be overseen by the elders.”, your face stayed angled down to the ground, your heart racing in your chest as your father made the final blow.

“Now you sympathize with a monster. You really are a defective disgrace.”

202 notes · View notes

j0kers-light · 6 months ago

Note

hi bae, ik youve been going thru a rough patch i hope(in fact ik) you’ll bounce back harder.🫶🏻

i really wanted to make a request for a long long time now, no pressure write it whenever u feel like it i am just going to drop it here.

for me J has always been a Lana del rey song specially the ultra violence album, he’s shades of blue, he’s ultraviolenec, smts hes even brooklyn baby. Can you write something dark, like real dark where hes possessive, violent, exatcly like he was in TDK. Pulling stunts and dropping hints. maybe he kidnappes the reader or smt like that, he’s acting all crazy and violent but something inside him just makes him slip to a lil caring or loving side every now and then, which eventually leads to some serious SMUT 😏😏

the reader could be his enemy’s daughter(maybe even batman’s daughter lol i am going wild) he tortures her,loves her, takes care of her then tortures her a lil more but make no mistake the reader is a fireball she gives him that lil fight they have in her which makes J even more attached to her.

ik i am just blabbing and making no sense, but i hope ukwim. i am also attaching a link to my fav J edit ever which might give u an outline of what i am trying to say. maybe even add J’s POV.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CqyP1PdveA9/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

okay ill shut up now. feel better love you 🫶🏻

His Lighthouse: Broken Dolls (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Broken Dolls - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

I feel ashamed that you had to wait so long for this request. Forgive me times a thousand @heathisbae !! I still love you and I got carried away with the word count. (10,500 words!!) I promise you that my blood, sweat, and tears went into this request. You should've let me stay in my enclosure. I LOVE DARK requests and I was in a dark and lonely place when I wrote this. The perfect mood for Broken Dolls.

Gather round children it’s time to go over some legal stuff. I usually do not care about trigger warnings. You are responsible for your own reading pleasure, BUT I’ll add a TW: List because yall gone need it. Chaos had a lil bit too much fun writing this one.. 👀😬

TW! Dark!Joker. rape, knife, blood, impact, choking, power play, dacryphilia, spitting, biting kinks, unprotected sex, overstimulation if you squint, degradation, no prep (foreplay is important kids) uhhhh… I’m missing something. 🤔 It’s canon Joker people. He’s a walking trigger warning.

Just be careful if you decide to read this one. I know I went overboard but your mental health is always my top priority. Enjoy or not. It’s entirely up to you. Since its a dark request, I decided not to tag anyone except @heathisbae Read at your own risk 🖤✨

Your father made it virtually impossible for anyone to find out. By fate’s design, you looked nothing like the iconic figure you called “father”, and you were forever grateful for that.

Your skin complexion, eye, and hair color masked you from the surname that was your birthright. You were the rumored Wayne heiress that Gotham City whispered about. Many far and wide longed to meet you to strengthen their businesses by marriage, whereas others flat out questioned your conception.

Bruce Wayne had neither confirmed nor denied the mother of any of his children to the world. Not like he ever would. There were only a few secrets Bruce had left in this world: you being the most important one.

Your life would be in danger if anyone were to find out you were a Wayne or worse, the precious daughter of Batman.

Many were adopted into the bat family, but you were blood to Bruce. A last-ditch effort he made to secure his family’s legacy; He hired a surrogate.

Should Batman ever fall in combat, you could pick up the torch and continue the Wayne legacy.

At an early age you wanted to make your father proud and wisely decided not to follow in his footsteps moonlighting as a vigilante. The eldest boys, Dick and Jason, celebrated for days. They loved their half-sister and supported every decision you make, but they would’ve put their foot down should you have wished to don a bat suit.

Instead of violence, you dedicated your life to education. Only the best schools with full ride scholarships—your cv was lengthy as it was profound. You spoke multiple foreign languages, held many accreditations issued from all over the globe, and excelled at virtually every extra-curricular skill you could think of.

You were a hardworking, driven woman with a no-nonsense attitude. That much, you got from your mother.

You dominated any boardroom you entered, and your famous e/c eyes could make or break contracts with a single look. Now that was all your father’s genes. You gave the phrase, beauty and brains, a living breathing, mascot and Bruce couldn’t be prouder.

That unfortunately made you a target.

You shied away from public humanitarian appearances to avoid being recognized as a Wayne. Too many similarities with Bruce would make people curious. Instead, you worked behind a smokescreen and attended the many charities and sponsorship parties as a third-party spectator to oversee your work.

That way, you got to see your hard work being implemented into the community—far better results than your father’s monetary donations provided.

You took pride knowing your hard work was creating a change in Gotham City. With the safeguards Bruce and the boys had in place; it would take an actual genius to put the numerous clues together to uncover your identity. You could live in relative peace while still making a difference.

Sadly, your long forgotten surrogate mother would soon threaten life as you knew it.

Joker prided himself in being a vigilant man. Nothing, not even the smallest of details, went unnoticed by him and when it came to his best friend Batman, J took extra care to notice every little thing.

The level of surveillance Joker did on the dark knight bordered on obsession but in a way, he was. Joker strived to be twelve steps ahead of his arch-nemesis in order to maintain his freedom. Being shipped back to Arkham was not an option, so he took information gathering very seriously.

Joker knew that Batman was Bruce Wayne for years. He was surprised other Gotham villains or just the local law enforcement didn’t put the clues together. It was so obvious.

There was no point in telling the world Batman’s not so little secret, but when Joker studied the daily life of Bruce Wayne a bit further, now that was a blackmail gold mine. Having a one up on Bats just felt good and especially when Joker discovered the perfect weapon that would break the man once and for all.

You.

Tucked away and hidden in plain sight; Y/n Wayne, the perfect tool for Joker’s plans.

A father’s worst nightmare, seeing their child in distress, Joker looked forward to scaring Bruce with this latest prank. All he had to do was get close enough to steal you away, but Bruce kept you protected twenty-four seven. Smart man and Joker didn’t blame his bestie for being a protective father.

There were dangerous people out there who would dream of your demise if they knew the truth!

No, it was much easier to track down your mother and it was mere child’s play to make her talk. Joker thoroughly enjoyed extracting as much information from the woman before her untimely demise.

He found it was unfair that she was virtually defenseless while you had security tighter than most world leaders. It wasn’t fair in Joker’s book, so he set out to put your safeguards to the test.

And what achievement it was to outsmart Batman at his own game.

You should’ve known better. Dad drilled it into your brain time and time again to always be aware of your surroundings.

There was no such thing as a coincidence. Things happened for a reason, and it was up to you to detect any signs of danger at any given time.

The same could be said for that fateful night. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed by a journalist at a charity event. She kept asking probing questions—a few hitting too close for comfort about your identity.

How ironic that you attended every event the rumored Wayne heiress organized and knew so much about her personal affairs. What a coincidence how reporters asked you questions like you were the boss..

The curious woman would not leave you alone! Her mindless chitchat felt more like an interrogation by the minute. You feared your identity was compromised after one of her questions rang true, but she simply laughed it off and said that if you were indeed a Wayne, “You’d be way prettier.”

Whatever that meant.

Perhaps the comment hit hard since your longtime friend/rival, Lana, stole attention from the fund raiser with her scandalous outfit. The brunette reeked of new money and had an ego the size of Metropolis, demanding attention wherever she went.

Her appearance ruined your event for helping orphaned kids and turned it into a mini Met Gala. You had every right for storming out to scream into the back alley. She never failed at ruining things!

You were really letting your frustration be heard when a whistle nearby startled you.

“Listen to the pipes on that one.”

You quickly stopped screaming once you realized that you weren’t alone. A lone male was smoking in the same alley, and he locked eyes with you once he caught your attention.

They were an unnatural green that felt familiar however, you couldn’t place where you might’ve seen them before.

“By all means... don’t let me keep ya from your.. uhh temper tantrum.” He blew a long puff of smoke into the night air.

At first you were in shock, but that reaction soon turned into irritation. Just who did he think he was talking to you like that? “I am not having a tantrum thank you very much a-and... you can’t smoke here!”

He simply chuckled while taking another drag. You crossed your arms and tapped your heels on the concrete as you waited for a response. This guy was something else.

“Hello? Did you hear me?” You added.

“Yup.” He popped the letter p, “Loud n’ clear. Pretty sure this area is ah... employees only. Ya wouldn’t catch me smokin’ if ya weren’t out here being a brat, hm?”

He had a point, but you still scoffed at his choice of words. You had the idea of using your title as the boss of this event to get him fired; yet he would surely talk and by morning, Gotham City would know that you’re a Wayne. That was the last thing you wanted; however, it was worth the hassle if it got rid of him.

For now, all you could do was shake your head at this strange man breaking your employee’s no smoking rule. You personally selected all the staff for the event and your security team performed background checks on everyone to ensure your safety.

The gentlemen sitting before you did not jog your memory.

His presence made you uneasy and you took a step back, “Do I know you?”

He snorted, smoke emerging from his nostrils in comical puffs. “Uh no, but I knoooo~ooow you.”

The blood in your veins ran cold when the stranger stood up and stepped into the light. “Didn’t your dad tell ya not to talk to strangers Miss Wayne?” He said mockingly.

You took one look at The Joker’s grotesque scars and turned to run.

Joker grinned and let you have a running start although you didn’t get far. Your feet got caught in your dress fabric and made his job relatively easy. The two of you tumbled to the ground, Joker landing on your back, but that quickly changed with a sharp elbow to his nose.

You didn’t stick around to see if your hit landed, you just scrambled to your feet and tried to reach for the back door when a hand grabbing your ankle disrupted your sense of balance. One second you were upright, the next, you were on the ground seeing double vision.

Joker didn’t think you’d put up much of a fight. His research into you was limited, but he doubted that you had any of the fighting skills your father was notorious for.

Technically he was right. You had taken up self defense training from Jason and he reported that you sucked at it.

Despite your lack of skills and concussion, you weren’t going down without a fight. One of your nails scratched Joker’s elongated smile causing it to bleed and suddenly, he had enough of your little games.

You were making too much noise, and his window of opportunity to kidnap you was running out. If he didn’t move you soon, his plan would be ruined. You just had to make things difficult for him.

“Alrighty Y/n, time for a little nap. Shhhhh... shh easy now.” Joker dodged your wild punch to his face as he dug a syringe out of his pocket.

The sight of it made you panic and fight back harder but your scream of help was drowned out by a roar of applause from inside. The auction must’ve ended with a success. Joker pierced your skin and watched the milky white substance disappear into your system.

It was cold seeping into your veins as you still tried to fight back.

“Aht ahttttt don’t fight it. Let it happen.” Joker crooned into your ear; not like you could hear him. Your body felt so heavy, you lost function of your limbs so suddenly it was terrifying.

The Joker’s obnoxious laugh sounded miles away from you. When your eyelashes fluttered closed, Joker knew victory was his.

The environment that you woke up in was dark and cold.

Your limbs were still groggy with whatever The Joker had injected you with and after a few test stretches, you still had motion in them. Although it would do you no good. The distinctive sound of metal on metal gave away your current predicament.

You were chained to something.

You tried not to panic but you were unable to see anything a few inches in front of you much less see how far the chain allowed you to move. You felt something solid underneath you and concluded that it was some sort of mattress or padding. It was a small comfort while being confined in total darkness.

Wherever you were, The Joker was to blame, and you weren’t going to let him have this much power over you. You had to find a way out before he started his sick form of entertainment.

Every citizen of Gotham knew Joker’s M.O. You didn’t want to be tortured to death all for a laugh.

You waited until your eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings before exploring how much freedom you truly had.

You felt around in the darkness until your hands bumped into something solid. It was a surface with nothing that could help you escape on it, so you moved on. Minutes felt like hours as you stumbled through the dark, searching for anything useful. Just when you thought you were painting a clear picture of the room in your head, a door opened beside you.

The blinding light was nothing compared to the searing pain of the door hitting you square in the face or that of the trauma caused by falling to the ground.

The room was still spinning when your loudmouth got the better of you.

“What’s your f__king problem?!” You cried out. You feared that your nose was broken, it sure felt like it with the amount of blood you felt gushing out. The Joker didn’t seem phased by the display.

Instead, he stepped right over you and flicked on a light, blinding you in the process. “Errr let’s see... problems. MY problem.. Social injustice? Global warming…uhhh rush hour traffic?” Joker paused for dramatic effect and slowly turned to face you. You froze, feeling his emerald eyes rake over your form hungrily.

The unnatural hue seemed to suck you in the longer you stared. “You.” Joker purred.

“M-Me?” How were you a problem? He abducted you not the other way round!

You had never crossed paths with the Clown Prince of Crime until tonight. The two of you couldn’t be more worlds apart. You stayed nose deep in your humanitarian work and out of any trouble whereas The Joker was trouble personified.

The only thing that linked you to Joker was your father, yet you doubted the clown was smart enough to put all the puzzle pieces together to uncover that.

You prayed that this was all some sort of misunderstanding but judging how The Joker was staring, your hopes began to shatter one by one.

You instinctively shielded your body from the known threat and in doing so, your skin brushed against unknown material. The formal dress you originally wore for the evening was gone and replaced by a thin t-shirt and baggy men’s pants. The implications were not lost on you.

You turned to glare at the madman before you. “Who changed my clothes!?” If you were able to blush, you knew you’d be redder than a tomato.

This man obviously had no respect for women. He simply threw his head back and laughed, “The pleasure is allllllllllll mine.”

You failed at hiding your full body shudder and even worse, you were unable to silence yourself from talking trash. “Screw you.” You regretted saying it the moment you opened your mouth.

The room suddenly got quiet. Joker sauntered his way over to your mattress and crouched down so he could be eye level with you. He admired the fire burning within your e/c eyes for a time. Such a strong wielded fire, it was beautiful to behold. If Joker had his way, there would only be smoking embers after he had his fun. He would make sure of it.

The Joker always had an air of drama about him, and it took center stage as he spoke to you. “Ya wanna.. know something? You should be lucK-yyyy my boys didn’t change ya. They would’ve loved to uh.. what did ya say? Screw you.”

His choice of words held more meaning as he tried to brush a few strands of hair out of your face. You shut down that idea by chomping at his fingers the second they were within your reach.

You refused to sit around like some damsel in destress until dad or one of the boys came to rescue you. You would fight back even if it killed you.

To Joker, your little stunt was comical. You could rebel all you wanted; your antics would never compare to what he had in store for you.

He simply wagged his paint-stained fingers at you like a scolding parent and insulted you further. “Mm, feisty! I like thaT. But that’s no way to behave while you’re here. No noooo. No. You are a verry special guest, Y/n!”

Joker walked over to the table that you found earlier. You watched as he pulled out a tripod and took the time to set up a camera in your general direction. Once it was positioned to his liking, he mashed a button—and to your horror, a red light began to blink.

“Tada! May I present.... Y/n, my lead-ing lady in this uh.. short film of mine! The title you ask? Why it’s, How to Break Batman’s Little Girl 101!”

Joker’s words were like a sucker punch to your gut. They bounced off the thick walls of the room and echoed back in your eardrum's times a hundred. Your worst nightmare was happening right before your eyes. Not only did someone know who you were, but dad’s long kept secret was out—and his arch-nemesis of all people, knew about it.

You were blinking a mile a minute and Joker thought your lips flailing like a fish was oh so adorable. Kissable really but he shook that odd thought away.

He hyped up his performance so much, you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or the camera at this point.

“Oh come now, Y/n. Don’t act so sur-prised! I knew Bats’ secret for years now. We are friends ya know.... Mmm on second thought. Ya might wanna work on the security Batsy.. I just so happened to waltz in and steal your precious.... and might I add.... beau-ti-ful daughter away easy peasy. Did I mention she’s verrrry beautiful?”

You snapped out of your panic by Joker’s fingers grazing your cheek. Your response was instinctive by slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

Joker wasted no time reacting to your outburst. His gentle touch turned cruel and struck your face hard enough to turn it sideways right into the wall.

He quickly grabbed ahold of your jaw and yanked you back upright. You were forced to bear witness to his self-inflicted scars, all jagged and swollen up close. It was a permanent reminder just how insane this man truly was. Joker’s nails dug into your cheek and for a split second, you genuinely feared this man.

His green eyes were almost electric staring into your soul. “You’re mine now and I’ll touch ya however I want. Got thaT?”

Joker saw the insult queuing up in your brain and squeezed your face tighter in his grasp. You whined but still managed to part your lips to respond. “I’m not yours.” You growled.

A brief staring contest ensued. Green verses your e/c.

Joker admired your bravery; you questioned his sanity. He dressed the part of a gentleman with his three-piece suit and coattails (despite the outlandish colors) yet he was so far removed from the title. He was unpredictable in every sense of the word that you weren’t sure if you would survive a moment longer in his presence.

You were confident that someone would come save you, Joker thought you were too naïve to understand the gravity of your situation. In any case, he would have ample time to extinguish the fire blazing in your eyes before someone started searching for you.

He was so caught up crafting his mental plans, he didn’t notice the glint in your eye right before you bit his hand.

It hardly phased him and for your efforts you received a rough shove towards the ground. Thankfully the mattress softened the blow however you still had the strength to glare at The Joker in disdain.

“Let’s see how long that feisty streak of yours last hmm?” Joker chuckled under his breath and walked over to the door.

The sudden change in brightness blinded you again but this time you caught a glimpse of a bulky man guarding the door before he and Joker disappeared from sight.

Finally you were alone with your thoughts. The first thing you did was let out a shaky sigh and glance at the camera still recording you. The Joker didn’t turn it off and you concluded its sole purpose was to monitor you and collect material for the ransom cd your dad would receive.

You choked back a sob just thinking about dad. He would be beside himself knowing you were abducted. Finding out that his greatest enemy took you would be a low blow—one you hoped he would overcome in order to rescue you. Dick and Jason would steer the detective in the right direction but with every hour that passed, you knew dad would slowly lose his mind. He knew firsthand what Joker was capable of. Your nose throbbed bitterly as a harsh reminder.

There was nothing stopping the clown from killing you if he simply became bored.

If only you took dad’s words to heart and abided by his strict security measures. You had snuck away from your detail for a bit of privacy. Now you regretted that dumb decision. You were in Joker’s clutches with no chance of escape, and it was all your fault.

He chained you to a bedpost like some animal and now that there was light in the room, you could see it in its entirety.

It was a mini prison right down to the bare necessities. The Joker had every intention of keeping you here, cut off from Gotham City, most likely below ground to disrupt the bat tracker embedded in you since childhood.

You scratched at your wrist, praying that it miraculously still worked despite the odds. Surely your father, the world’s greatest detective, could locate his daughter with much less.

It was the only reassurance you had.

You were getting tired overthinking your predicament. There was nothing you could do at present, so with one last hesitant glance at the video recorder, you tried your best to get comfortable on the mattress and fall asleep.

That became your routine. Time held no value anymore.

Was it a few days? Weeks? Longer? How were you to know? You were confined to four concrete walls with no form of contact, save for the ever present blinking red light watching your every move.

You were forced to use the horrendous facilities they called a bathroom, and meals (which were surprisingly great) were brought to your room like clockwork while you were asleep.

You began to look forward to the tray that would magically appear on your table. It was the only connection to the outside world you had, and you didn’t take it for granted.

There was always a special treat on your dinner plate and it never failed at putting a smile on your face regardless of being a prisoner. You tried to keep a grip on your sanity with these small bouts of happiness, but it was obvious what angle Joker was playing at.

He was using isolation to mentally break you and it was working.

You thought being locked away all alone would be easy, but the constant silence was unbearable and before long you began to fear when Joker would return.

Not fearing him specifically, but of what you might do for a sliver of human interaction.

That visit came unexpectedly. You woke up from a nap sensing a presence inside your room. Sadly, you had embraced having hallucinations during your lengthy stay here, but this one felt a little too real.

Something didn’t feel right. “H-Hello?”

The door was still closed with the lights dimmed and there wasn’t a tray of food dropped by, so you glanced near the bathroom area on pure instincts. Nothing was inside the room except that camera that you loathed so much. Its constant flashing light both annoyed and comforted you. At least you weren’t completely alone.

You sighed to yourself and was about to fall back asleep when you felt something move behind you. Joker’s laugh blended in with your scream as you tried to scramble away.

You didn’t get far given that Joker dragged you back towards him.

The last thing you expected after waking up was a man lying in the same bed as you. It was a natural response to freak out, especially since it was The Joker pinning you to the mattress. “YOU SICK F__K! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”

You didn’t see the way Joker's eyes glazed over or the way his hands tightened around you before he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Have I lost my… have I.. losT my mind?”

You tried to pry his hands off you, but Joker was just too strong as he continued to repeat your question over and over. His manic laughter was deafening in your ear. “Have I lost my mind, Y/n? Or have you?”

You looked up into pools of jade that glinted mockingly down at you. “What are you...?”

Joker cut you off by directing your gaze to the camera in the room. “Did ya forget I’ve been watching you this entire time doll? Talking to yourself, your uh... hopeless words of affirmation? Oh Dad will come, he’ll come save me! Hang in there, Y/n! You’re so braaaaaave and strong!”’

Joker’s imitation of your voice was cringeworthy as he repeated your own words out loud. He mocked your defiant spirit and hopes of escape as if it was a joke. Strangely enough, Joker’s tone softened, and he sounded sincere with his next angle of attack.

“You just don’t get iT. Daddy’s not coming Y/n. No one knows you’re missing, and nooo one cares either. It’s been a month now doll. If Daddy Bats really cared about his precious daughter, he would’ve rescued you by now don’tcha think?”

Joker was just messing with you. This was another tactic of his to break you down. He was a master of manipulation and his way with words was just as dangerous as his work with knives. His sole existence was to harm others and yet with your fragile state of mind, a part of you believed him.

You couldn’t believe that a month had passed with no one trying to find you. Was Joker telling the truth?

It was too absurd to believe. “N-No.... no dad cares about me. He wouldn't.... he wouldn’t give up..” You whispered. You didn’t know who you were trying to convince here, you or The Joker.

He must’ve seen the doubt starting to creep in for he pushed you a little further. “Are you sure, Y/n? He’s a uh, busy bat! Fighting crime always comes first, you know that better than anyyyyy one. He’s never had time for you...” Joker smiled, watching you blink back tears.

He enjoyed every minute of tearing down your defenses one lie at a time.

He leaned away and bit back a smile when you followed, seeking his contact. You were making this child’s play for him.

“Bats always sent ya away when you were younger. Never letting you err.. blossom to your fullest. He hid you away because you were a failure to him. A mistake. He never cared about you! But guess whaT?”

Joker waited until you looked up into his grassy green eyes. Were they always so expressive or was it your imagination that made them sparkle? It was the first source of human contact you had in who knows how long. You felt special to have The Joker staring at you the way he was.

The air in the room was filled with static energy as you waited for Joker’s next words. You craved validation, acceptance, and attention at a time like this. The Joker had starved you for far too long in isolation.

His hand raised up and softly caressed the side of your face and you missed how his eyes lingered on your lips longer than intended.

“I care Y/n.” He chuckled seeing you pout, “I mean iT! I’ve been so ah.. cruel to ya. I should’ve treated you better. You want me to treat ya better doll?”

Joker leaned forward and kissed both of your cheeks. The contact made you jump and blink up at him in shock. If he couldn’t hear your heart beating wildly, then he was deaf.

You soaked up his form of human contact like a sponge. How long had you been wasting away in this room?

Was it really a month like Joker had said? Right as Joker was leaning down to kiss you properly, you had a moment of clarity.

Who was to blame for you being trapped in here? Why were you here in the first place? The answer was right in front of you, buttering you up with sweet lies and fake affection. Joker was playing you like a fiddle, and you were weak enough to fall for it.

Not anymore.

The Joker was the enemy. He was full of lies. Dad would never abandon you so why were so inclined to believe this green haired clown? No amount of isolation, no form of torture, could break you to believe such. You couldn’t give up so easily. You were a Wayne. You were born a fighter.

Joker’s scarred lips ghosted against yours as you shoved him away. “You are nothing but a liar.”

You enjoyed his brief moment of shock before his eyes cooled into the hard emeralds that they were.

And just like that the act was over. One second you were in the comfort of Joker’s arms, the next you were tossed aside like trash and his true colors were revealed.

He towered over you like a titan as you tried to back away but there was simply nowhere to go. You were at Joker’s mercy, and he spared you none. Each kick to your body made you cry out for Joker to stop but he didn’t listen, rather he laughed and kicked harder.

You grabbed his ankle and begged him to stop but he jerked free and stomped on your wrist in retaliation. The audible crack was background noise to your earsplitting scream— yet it was all music to Joker’s ears.

He enjoyed the pain of others and yours was icing on the cake.

You sounded so pretty, so helpless and filled with anguish. He wanted to hear more. He was obsessed. How far could he push you until you gave under pressure?

Two knocks on the door stole Joker’s attention and his eyes watched as another person entered the room. Joker knew who it was. Anyone else wouldn’t dare enter while he had his fun.

Frost took one look at you sobbing on the floor before he focused his attention back on his boss. “We got trouble.”

Joker rolled his eyes at Frost for interrupting his fun although it was probably for the best. He didn’t want to break you just yet. Slow and steady won the race and he had all he time in the world to do so.

He might’ve went overboard today judging by how you visibly flinched when he moved in your direction, but he knew you’d bounce back defiant as ever. You had to.

“You’ll have to uhh, excuse me Y/n. It seems.. I’m needed elsewhere. Don’t. You. Move.” He patted your head and laughed all the way out the door.

The heavy sound of it closing did little to silence your tears.

The pain was nothing. You were more upset with yourself for not being stronger. Joker was destroying your fighting spirit in record time and you were powerless to stop him.

The bruises never faded, and it made sleeping even more difficult on your worn mattress.

Sure, Joker was considerate enough to cast your broken wrist, but it was a small gesture compared to the verbal and added physical abuse he bestowed upon you daily.

You became Joker’s personal punching bag and there was no end in sight to your suffering.

Each time the door opened, you were forced to endure Joker’s twisted mind games or his heavy hand. It didn’t matter that you were a woman, in his eyes you deserved every ounce of pain that he inflicted. And when he finally left you bleeding and holding back tears, your own thoughts tortured you some more.

Did father really abandon you? How was the world’s greatest detective, renowned for his state-of-the-art technology and gadgets, unable to locate his only daughter?

The days blended together and all the hope you originally had of being rescued, diminished.

The Joker enjoyed his daily visits with you but he could tell that it wasn’t enough. Your body was obviously battered yet your mind remained intact.

You still possessed a thread of hope that made you defiant to the end. You spat in Joker's face whenever he was in range, and you rolled your eyes at his half-hearted jokes about killing you.

“Then do it.” Your snide remarks often led to more beatings that did little to fulfill Joker’s goal.

Nothing seemed to be working to ultimately break you, so he decided to try a different angle.

You woke up to the smell of food in the air. Your stomach growled in want, but the reset of your body hurt too much to move. You debated skipping eating all together in favor of rest however that choice was made for you.

“Sit up.”

His voice. The root of all of your problems. You didn’t have the strength to be bothered with him today.

Joker waited for you to move yet when you remained lying down, he became agitated. “I won’T re-peat myself doll.”

Your voice cracked with your response. “I can’t. It hurts.” You just wanted to be left alone, to hurt in peace but Joker controlled everything here. As if you had a choice to begin with.

“Lemme help you.”

Just hearing the offer gave you the strength to flip over to face him. Surely he was joking. He wanted to help you?! After all he did? Screw the consequences, you had to speak your mind.

“Help me? You want to help me? Okay then. Go away! Far… far away and leave me alone! Or even better! Let me go! What’s the point of keeping me here? What do you want from me?!”

During your speech you began to cry and Joker (for the first time in his life) felt guilty. Your timeless beauty was marred by cuts and bruises that he caused, and he couldn’t justify his actions for creating them.

Somewhere along the way Joker lost focus of the mission.

It was all a game— to get at Batman but along the way Joker saw how strong you truly were. Anything he tossed your way, you deflected it with ease. You never faltered, never lost hope. Even now as you lay weak and hungry, your eyes set him ablaze.

You had won, he just didn’t know at what.

Joker didn’t know what else to do with this failed experiment of his. One thing was certain, he wasn’t letting you go. There was something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Your rant fizzled off as you stared at Joker.

There was an odd gleam in his eyes that you were wary of. He looked lost in thought and when he snapped to, you were shocked to see a genuine smile appear on his lips.

You feared what his thoughts could lead to.

To mask your fear, you rolled your eyes at his lack of an answer and reached for your dinner tray. Your groan of pain made Joker wince. Were you really in that much pain?

Without thinking, he smacked your hand away and stabbed a portion of food with the provided fork. The two of you stared at each other in silence waiting for the other to make a move.

“I can feed myself.” You grumbled.

Joker gave you an, ‘are you sure about that’ look and tapped the fork to your lips.

Just thinking about moving used up too much energy and your muscles begged for you to take him up on the offer. The Joker, Gotham City’s notorious criminal, wanted to feed you dinner; who were you to deny him?

You begrudgingly opened your mouth while looking away from his smug green eyes.

The act was so demoralizing, but you kept your cool while chewing in silence and opening your mouth for the next morsel.

Just to be cheeky, you closed your lips around the fork and refused to let go. Joker didn’t think it was funny but he entertained your bratty behavior nonetheless. He considered stabbing your tongue—but thought against it. There was no need to be violent.

He was trying a different angle to this whole hostage situation he created. Your defenses were down tonight and he would be a fool not to take advantage of them.

A quick glance to his right confirmed that the video camera was still recording. Perhaps it was time to send a message to daddy dearest and make some progress.

You were under the impression that Joker was taking pity on you with his nice guy act. He was patient, feeding you bites of food and not shoving it down your throat like he’d done in the past when you tried starving yourself.

He was being.. (dare you say it) nice. You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

He finished feeding you and you thought he was moving onto the slice of cake that was on the tray. You had been eyeing it since Joker uncovered it and you licked your lips thinking about the delectable treat.

It would have to wait. There was an ominous shift in the air that completely blindsided you.

Joker didn’t know what came over him. He didn’t have any plans when he entered your room tonight. It was supposed to be a simple food drop—nothing more, but the moment his eyes landed on you curled up on the mattress resting so beautifully, what left of his demented mind, checked out early.

This past month and a half was filled with harsh lessons and far too many close calls. Batman and his ban of birds did everything in their power to find you and they almost succeeded once or twice.

Thankfully Joker was smart enough to place you inside a shipping container so you could always be mobile and out of reach. You hardly noticed the frequent moves since he coordinated them during your sleeping hours. It also ensured your meals were always hot and fresh since they could just travel to wherever Joker deemed fit to your standards.

Everything was planned down to the smallest detail, everything except developing feelings for you.

Now that was out of Joker’s control.

Underneath the clown façade, Joker was still a man and you were absolutely stunning with your aristocratic beauty and educated mind.

Your fierce personality drew him in despite you being a means to an end. You were supposed to be a form of entertainment, a toy until Joker got bored and let Batman have his daughter back but over time, Joker became attached to you in an unhealthy way.

You were Joker’s property, his special secret hidden from the world to do with as he so pleased.

He stopped hitting you and allowed you time to heal due to some unknown form of guilt. More and more tasty desserts were included with your meals to make up for his abusive behavior, and unbeknownst to you, Joker watched you sleep every night.

There was something soothing watching you blissfully unaware of the monster in your bed. He could slit your throat in your sleep but he didn’t. No, that would be a waste.

Joker found it better to sleep beside you and hold you close. He knew you would freak out if you knew all the liberties that he took while you were asleep.

From tracing your major arteries with a knife to leaving lipstick marks all over your skin—his feelings for you were disturbing and perfectly justified in his opinion.

Joker didn’t want the traditional lovey dovey crap most couples shared because he wasn’t normal. He wanted to own, to control, to destroy you completely and then protect the broken pieces that remained.

There was no concept of love in Joker’s mind and there never would be. Seeing you so docile as he fed you was the breaking point. He got a taste of your submissive side and craved more.

Why couldn’t you just give in and break already? You brought this upon yourself. You forced Joker to do this.

He blocked out the sound of your cries and wrestled your arms down to onto the mattress. His only goal was to get you naked and when you began to struggle more, he took matters into his own hands.

Joker grabbed the army knife from his pocket and sliced your clothes off. One motion caught your skin and you howled as the sharp metal tore it open. Joker saw red bubble to the surface and dove down to lick you clean.

He didn’t like hearing your voice filled with pain. It distracted him from getting hard and after staring you in the eye, you quickly got the message. Keep quiet or else.

You tried not to make a sound louder than your whimpers. You didn’t want to provoke Joker’s wrath.

“Much better. So pretty.” Joker hummed to himself when you were laid bare beneath him although he frowned seeing tears staining your cheeks. “Shhhhhh, hey hey. Look at me... Behave and it won’t hurT.”

He watched your lip wobble as you remained quiet. Your wrists were being held down by Joker’s hand, leaving you powerless to squirm away and he loved the power scale tipping in his favor. Good. You would always be beneath him.

He struggled a bit to unzip his fly but managed to get his cock out without letting you go. A shame you were being bratty and didn’t prepare yourself for this. He really had to do everything around here.

Joker spat on his hand and worked it up and down his cock, groaning to himself at the feeling. His eyes roamed over his doll and admired your beauty mid stoke. You had curves in all the right places that begged to be fondled. He wanted to touch them, but if he let go of your hands, you would act out.

He could see the fire burning in your eyes. If he gave you an inch, you’d take a mile.

Yet it was criminal not to mark you up the way he wanted.

Joker sighed as he lined himself up with your pussy. You panicked and tried moving away from his tip tapping your opening with heavy slaps to no avail.

“Are ya gonna behave doll?”

He shifted his weight and applied more pressure on your healing broken wrist when you continued to rebel. The searing pain made you bite your lip and cease struggling altogether.

“Now. Are you gonna be a errr.. good doll for me n’ stay realllllllly still?” Joker sang.

Your lip curled back, ready to cuss him out, instead a loud scream took escaped your lips as Joker began to force his way inside your dry entrance.

It burned. It ached. He was tearing you apart and you shook your head in agony as it continued without end. You didn’t think about the consequences, you bucked your hips away from the unwanted invasion.

You knew you were in trouble the moment Joker said your name in warning.

“What. Did. I just say doll? Dumb b___h.”

Joker let go of your wrists to hold your hips instead. Once he found purchase, he began thrusting in and out of your pussy. His pleasure was your torment. Your silent tears spurred him on and he swatted your hands away that tried to push him off.

Nothing would stop him after he got a taste of you. He was an idiot for not taking you sooner.

“Haha, you’re grippin’ me soooooo tight doll. Ease up for me!” Joker groaned louder to drown out your pathetic pleas. He would not slow down; you were too perfect to stop now.

He noticed the camera in the corner and got an idea. “Are ya enjoying yourself, doll? Why don’tcha give the ah.. a-audience a good show? Go on. Tell him how you feel.”

You forgot all about the recorder in the room! Your sharp gasp was music to his ears. You tried to turn away, but Joker would have none of that. He grabbed your jaw and forcibly turned your face towards the lens. Your tears were a paid actor for his production.

“Ya see that Bats? ThaT, oh f__k... t-that is the face of your failure. She’s all mine and I’m gonna take ahaha.. verrry good care of her. All mine.. d__n it..” Joker choked back a moan and licked the tears from your face as he sped up his thrusts. If he kept this up, he would cum before the fun really started. Although he shouldn’t have to be the only one getting off.

With a smug grin, he snaked a hand down to rub messy circles on your clit.

The response was instantaneous. You threw your head back with a mewl on your tongue. He felt the result of his adventurous touch the same time you let out an unexpected moan. “Oh? Ya like that doll?” He mocked.

He laughed at you trying to deny deny deny but your body was speaking on your behalf.

You tightened around him and he felt the slick begin to coat his cock. He arched an eyebrow at the sudden turn of events. You really were enjoying this. He wondered...

He stroked your clit faster and was rewarded by another sweet moan gracing his ears. His doll made the prettiest sounds under distress. He could see the confusion dancing across your features.

“Ohhhhhh Bats! You have a naughty.. naughty girl! Enjoying my touch after begging me to stop just minutes ago? Ah.. mmm, it's okay doll! M-Moan louder. Enjoy ittt, I know I am. Mm, you feel better the uh wetter you become.”

Joker stopped mid thrust when you clenched down unexpectedly on him. Were you trying to crush him to death?

He wondered if you could feel him throbbing in your pussy. Your tiny fists were beating on his clothed chest but there was no point in pretending.

You were enjoying yourself and if he was correct to assume, you were getting close. You just needed a little push and Joker had just the thing.

“I knew you were secretly a whore. Only dirty sluts get off on being used like a toy. Hehe. It's a-always the quiet ones f__k!” Joker chuckled to himself followed by a shuddering groan. You were very close. He had to act fast.

Without warning he bit down hard on your shoulder. You moaned out before covering your mouth with your hand. It was too late; Joker already knew what kind of woman you were. He bit harder and rejoiced as blood bubbled up to the surface to coat his lips. Finally, he was marking you up the way you deserved.

He sped up his thrusts, laughing at the sloppy sound of wet skin on skin in the room. His cock happily slid in and out of your pussy now that you were horny.

You were shaking your head in denial even as your legs shivered on Joker’s shoulders. He licked the fresh bite mark clean before whispering in your ear.

“Let go Y/n. Shatter into a thousand tiny lit-tle pieces— and when you snap them back together, I'll be righT here to ruin you all over again. And again. And again. I will always break you just the way you need. The way you deserve. So go on. Do itttt. B-Break for me.... For us.”

Joker thought you were beautiful before, seeing you admit defeat and cum was a vision from heaven.

Your cheeks darkened in color as your lips parted like the sea to allow carnal bliss to fall from its depths. You twitched uncontrollably in Joker’s hold, and he was more than happy to pull you in close as you fell apart on his cock.

You rode the wave of pleasure and swept Joker along with the force. He was caught off guard by your tightening cunt and came with your name a whisper on his lips.

No drug could ever compare to the high you gave him.

He saw new sounds and heard colors that he couldn’t name. His breath came in short pants as he came down. Words failed him, his head was still too foggy to process the world around him.

What could one say after an orgasm that intense? He just came inside your quivering hole, and he already wanted to do it again.

He couldn’t find the energy to even think coherently! All he could do was flop down next to you and sort out his senses in the right categories.

His paint-stained hands wandered aimlessly and began playing with the ends of your hair, much to your horror. While Joker floated in post-coital bliss, you fell back to your harsh reality.

You let this monster have sex with you and even worse, you enjoyed it.

You felt dirty, cheap, a literal failure. You allowed The Joker to touch you, to make you feel good. You came from his ministrations. God, you could feel him softening inside your used pussy. Your inner thighs felt sticky, and you shuddered realizing that The Joker came inside you. The room began to spin as you spiraled into a panic attack.

What would dad think when he found out? What if you became pregnant with this monster’s child. You felt sick to your stomach and feeling Joker playing with your hair, as if nothing was wrong, tipped you over the edge.

“Don’t touch me!” You wailed. Your shout made Joker come to and instinctively hold you closer to his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on inside your head, but you didn’t have to be so loud.

“Doll... I ahh uh, already touched ya.” He rubbed up and down your back despite you flinching from his touch.

You made eye contact with the video recorder in the corner and Joker curiously followed your gaze. Oh. That would explain your sour mood. You were smart and deduced what he would do with the footage. “Listen Y/n..”

A knock at the door interrupted Joker’s sentence. He didn’t move an inch as he granted whomever on the other side entry.

You tried maintaining your modesty but it was a useless effort. You were bare as the day you were born in Joker’s arms and he wasn’t letting you go.

Joker’s henchman walked in and struck a conversation with the clown, pretended as if you didn’t exist. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die you were so embarrassed.

You didn’t notice what was going on until Joker snapped his fingers in your face. “Huh?”

Joker rolled his eyes at your lack of awareness. He sat up straight and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I said..... take a bath while I’m gone. I uh.. took your chain off for ya.”

He pointed at your bare ankle that was in fact free of the heavy metal. You twisted your leg, feeling the freedom granted to you.

You wanted to thank Joker but he was already walking out the door with his henchman. And just like that, you were alone. The silence was unbearable as the full reality hit you full force.

You didn’t fight back. Why did you give in so easily? Why did you miss the warmth of Joker body against yours? Just what was wrong with you for craving his touch?

Screw taking a bath, you ran straight towards the toilet to empty your stomach.

Sleep did not come to you when your mind was abuzz with doubt.

You paced the room while biting your nails and reliving your time spent with Joker over and over. You were beyond restless thinking about your uncertain future. What would Joker do now that he got what he wanted?

Would you be killed off and discarded like trash? Would your family be given the chance to mourn your passing? Would they even know what became of you? There were too many questions and not enough answers. One thing was for certain, you refused to sit around and wait for your fate.

For some unknown reason Joker removed your chain. It was a sliver of hope that you planned on exploiting.

The heavy metal door loomed in the distance. Before it served as a reminder of how trapped you were; now it was a shining beacon of hope. Either coincidental or simply a miracle, Joker also took the elusive camera with him. Nothing was stopping you from running, and nothing was holding you back.

Joker had slashed your clothes to ribbons but the woolen blanket on the mattress was still intact for you to wrap around your body.

It left you feeling far too exposed, but you had no other option available. Once covered, you padded over to the door and turned the handle to freedom.

The hallway was dark and ominous before you.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to venture into the unknown. You looked at the barren cell you were forced to inhabit and back into the dark void, weighing the odds.

You took the first step, then another, and another until you were walking with haste—desperately searching for an exit.

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears as you stumbled across a door with light poking out underneath the frame. It was the only lead you had so far towards an exit. You slowly pushed it open and regretted it instantly.

The room full of men all stopped their various conversations to stare you caught like a deer in headlights in the doorway. You quite literally walked into a den of wolves.

“Well well. Look what we have here!” One guy catcalled.

They all leered at your body poorly wrapped up in a blanket. It was obvious your purpose here at their hideout. Free entertainment.

The door slammed shut behind you, trapping you again, only this time in far more hostile conditions. You berated yourself for leaving the safety of your cell if this was the cost. You could barely defend yourself against Joker. There were too many men here to even consider escaping.

You backtracked right into a broad chest and the male laughed at you already cowering in fear.

He roughly pulled your hair while another pair of hands ripped your blanket away to knead your breasts. Whistles and laughter broke out in the room at the sight. “The Boss been keepin’ this from us!? Look! She’s freshly used too!”

You screamed as fingers stabbed their way into your cunt and explored inside. Their hands weren't like Jokers. There was no pleasure to be gained here and unlike before, your body did not warm up to the stimuli.

You were in pain as they groped and fondled your body and despite Joker being the origin to all your problems, you cried out his name to save you.

Someone yanked your hair again before shattering all your hopes with a handful of words. “Ya think the boss is gonna help you? You are nuthin’ to him! Just a warm hole for him to use. And now it's our turn.”

You closed your eyes to block out the pain. The last of your fighting spirit faded away as a lone tear rolled down your cheek.

Frost and Joker were waking back towards your room when they heard the loud commotion coming from the common room.

It was well in the night and nothing of note should’ve excited the men to be so rowdy. Most of them should’ve been on patrols in the first place.

Frost merely shrugged his shoulders and followed his Boss.

Curiosity killed the cat, but Joker was not so simple minded. He knew something was wrong. He wasn't religious by any means, but he prayed that this didn’t involve you.

He barged into the common room ready to scold his men when his worst fears came to light.

Joker didn’t think, he simply acted until nothing else stood in his way to get to you. Frost could handle the aftermath of his rage—you were the only constant in Joker’s mind the second he opened the door and saw you in distress.

He left you just a few hours prior, safe and accounted for in your room. He left to prepare better accommodations to reflect your newfound status in his life. Joker took great care of his possessions, and you deserved better than being tucked away in some dingy shipping container. You didn’t belong on the floor like a cheap whore. No, you were worthy to be displayed, dressed up like the doll Joker wanted you to be.

Never did he imagine he would return to this.

He fought his way to your side and fell to his knees by your side. His green eyes were wide with an unknown emotion as they took in your battered form.

He didn’t want to touch and accidentally hurt you any further yet something about the thousand-yard stare in your eyes told him you were no longer here to feel anything at all. Joker knew how ruthless his men were, but this was barbaric.

He didn’t regret killing them after what they done. His only remorse was not making them suffer more before death.

Joker gathered you up in his arms and tried shaking you back into focus. “Y/n? Y/n, c'mon doll! Look at me.. s-say something!?” He pleaded.

You mumbled something inaudible and curled up into a ball.

Rage. Guilt and surprisingly shame. Joker’s mind was wild with this flood of new emotions.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have a single cell of compassion in his body, yet the sight of his newest toy utterly broken (and not of his own doing) had him feeling remorseful.

“I... I don’T.. I...” Joker gathered his thoughts with a deep inhale.

Frost watched the intimate scene while kicking over a body. It was a bloody mess in here; however, that had to wait.

Frost could tell his Boss needed some assistance. “I’ll run a bath.” Frost said offhandedly.

It would point Joker in the right direction at least rather than rocking you back and forth on the floor to no avail. The comment snapped Joker out of his musing.

Emerald eyes roamed over your sleeping form. “Bath. Y-Yeah uh she needs a uh.. bath.”

He nodded to himself and slowly rose to his feet to carry you out of the common room. He passed up your old room in favor of his own that had more privacy. Not like it would matter. You had yet to speak.

This was not the outcome Joker had planned. Even after he washed you clean and tucked you into bed— he sat by your side contemplating his next move.

You were no longer the shiny doll he wanted on his shelf. His own men had ruined you. They took away your feisty demeanor and all conscience thought from you that made this game fun.

Joker tried to get you to speak, to react to anything, but you remained stagnant, blinking owlishly at the wall until sleep finally took you. Nothing of the defiant Y/n that Joker had grown to like remained.

You left him with no other alternative. He got what he wanted, and it was time to move on.

In three more days, it would mark your two-month long disappearance. Bruce would be a liar if he said he didn’t count the days if not the minutes that you were gone.

He blamed himself for your capture and the boys tried their hardest to steer him in the right direction and not spiral into depression. Bruce loved all his children, but you were his by blood. You held a special place in Bruce’s heart and as such, he spent every waking second trying to find you.

No expenses were spared, and any lead (no matter how small) were investigated. Joker was smart, but Bruce was smarter. He would find you.

Dick and Tim investigated a possible lead and discovered where you were originally being held. You still had a sweet tooth and your favorite bakery recognized your custom order being placed and tipped off Wayne Enterprises about the person who picked it up.

Unfortunately, The Joker moved you before Batman could arrive at the location but now they knew you were still alive. It strengthened their hopes in finding you safe and sound.

Numerous rescue attempts were thwarted in the following weeks, but they never gave up. There would be another lead, they would have another chance to save you.

All hope was not lost.

Their patience was rewarded the day the Batcomputer picked up a signal on your tracker. It was finally online for the first time in months. Everyone scrambled to assemble at the pinned location. Bruce was ready for a fight and mentally prepared himself to do anything necessary to get you back.

None of the boys were prepared to arrive at the back of your office building. It seemed to be a mistake, it had to be. Was Joker sending them on a wild goose chase? Bruce scanned the area but there was only one faint heat signature detected. His nerves were on edge, already assuming the worst.

Bruce’s heart stopped beating when he saw a body lying in the delivery drop-off/ loading area. He didn’t wait for the others to secure the area. His father instincts were in overdrive as he rushed to your side, calling out your name.

You were unresponsive with only a tattered blanket covering your shivering form. That’s when Bruce saw the bruises painting your body and the cast still present on your wrist. He didn’t want to believe that this battered woman was his spit-fire daughter.

You were a shell of your former self when Bruce finally roused you awake. The fire that once blazed intently within your e/c eyes was gone and it was evident what The Joker did to you.

“Bruce, look.” Dick said as he picked up something near your feet.

Scattered around your body was a deck of playing cards. On the joker card a note was written in red.

You can have her back Bats; I don’t like broken dolls.

207 notes · View notes

salfishersface · 1 year ago

Text

How You Met

Synopsis - How you meet Sal, Larry & Travis.

Warnings - SFW.

Notes - All characters are 18+!

Word Count - 1.2k.

{Caffeinate Me}

SAL FISHER was new to Nockfell High, and to say he was nervous was definitely an understatement. He had met Larry Johnson at his apartment prior to his first day at the new school, so at least he had some form of moral support. Sal and Larry walked up to the gates of Nockfell High, waiting for the sea of students walking through the entrance to calm down before making their own way inside. “You need to claim a locker dude,” Larry said to Sal as they walked through the halls. “There’s an empty locker next to mine.

“That’s convenient,” Sal said with a smile.

Meanwhile, you walked through the halls, making your way to Larry’s locker. You knew your best friend well, and knew that he would be lazing around his locker in an attempt to avoid going to class. When you came into view of Larry’s locker, you noticed him standing next to another boy with blue hair, fumbling with the neighbouring locker. You skipped up to your best friend. “Hey,” you said, startling them both.

“Y/N!” Larry jumped, turning around to face you. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m not that scary am I?” You joked, trying to stifle a laugh.

Larry looked towards Sal and pulled a face before introducing the two of you. “Sall Face, this is my best friend, Y/N L/N. Y/N L/N, this is my new friend, Sally Face.”

“Sally Face?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. “Is it because of the prosthetic?”

“Yes!” Sal said, almost a bit too excitedly. He had never had someone call it a prosthetic before, usually people always mistook his prosthetic for a regular mask. Sal couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat as his eyes met yours, they were the most beautiful colour that really brought out your complexion. A smile tugged the corner of his lips underneath the prosthetic.

“Can I just call you Sal?” You asked.

Sal nodded, thanking whatever Gods were out there that his prosthetic hid his reddening cheeks. “Y-Yeah,” he stuttered.

“Look at you two, getting along!” Larry grinned, pulling both of you into his arms. “Best friends, am I right or am I right?”

“Right,” you smiled, nodding at Sal. “I better get to class. Don’t let him be late for class Sal, he likes to skip sometimes.”

Sal nodded at you, watching as you waved at the two boys before walking away. “She’s great,” Larry said to Sal. “I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”

“I hope so,” Sal mumbled to himself before stuffing his books into his locker and making his way to his first class.

LARRY JOHNSON had been making his way to the lobby of Addison Apartments to see if there was any mail for him or his mother. You were new to the building and was also looking to see if you and your family had mail. Larry eyed you up as you took the letters from the mailbox and flicked through them. “Hi,” he said to gain your attention. “I’m Larry.”

“Hello,” you said, looking away from the post and to the man in front of you. “I’m Y/N.”

Larry stuck his hand out for you to shake, and you did so with a firm grip. He smiled as you shook his hand. “You’re new to the building right?” He asked, waiting for your response.

“Yeah. Just moved in a few days ago with my parents,” you replied, returning your hand to your side.

“How are you finding it?” Larry asked, leaning against the wall, seemingly as cool as a cucumber.

“It’s nice,” you nod. “The apartment could be tidier, but other than that everything seems good.”

Larry chuckled. “Well you’ve just moved in. It’s bound to be a little bit messy.”

“Tell me about it, I can’t wait for it to start feeling like home though,” you say with a shy smile.

“It’ll feel like home before you know it,” Larry reassured you. He paused for a moment, thinking of what to say next as he looked you up and down. “Say, do you and your family wanna come round for dinner sometime?” He asked. Your eyes widened at his sudden question but you found yourself nodding, that shy smile still plastered on your lips. “Great!” Larry clapped his hands together. “I’m sure my mother would love to get to know your family.”

“I’m sure my family would love to get to know your mother also,” you said. “Moving hasn’t been easy on them.”

“Bet,” Larry replied with a nod. Within a second, he pulled his phone out of his jean pocket and shoved it towards you. “Add your number and we’ll get to know each other more.”

Shakily, you took his phone from him and put your number into his contacts. “Here you go,” you smiled, handing him back his phone.

“Thanks!” He grinned, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll get in touch with you soon. Until next time, newbie,” Larry said before turning to walk towards the elevator. His heart was beating like crazy and when he got into the elevator and the doors closed, his knees buckled underneath him from the nerves. He would definitely be texting you later.

TRAVIS PHELPS went to church every week with his father. Today was no different. He went to mass as usual. But then he saw you. You weren’t paying attention to the service and Travis took notice of that before turning his own attention back to his father. After mass, whilst his father socialised with the other church-goers, Travis actively sought you out. When he found you, you were standing in the corner waiting for your family whilst actively chewing on the skin around your nails. He walked over to you quickly, stopping mere centimetres away from you. “You weren’t listening to service,” he said, rather directly.

“No, no I wasn’t,” you said with a shrug. “Who wants to know?”

Travis sucked in a breath. “Travis Phelps wants to know,” his eyebrows furrowed as he spoke.

“Minister Phelps’ son?” You asked, wide eyes.

Travis nodded proudly, puffing his chest up. “Yes.”

“Well, Minister Phelps’ son,” you said, taking a step towards him. “I don’t give a shit.”

Travis took a step back from you, a mixture of pure disgust and bewilderment on his face. “How dare you!” He said loudly. “I could get you kicked out of this church right now for such disgusting language.”

“Do it then, I don’t care,” you replied, sticking your tongue out teasingly.

Travis was shell shocked by your uncaring nature towards the church. “On second thoughts,” he said, stroking his chin. “I don’t think I’ll say anything. It seems like coming to church is enough of a punishment for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly.

“Y/N,” you said swiftly.

“Well Y/N,” Travis started. “Enjoy tomorrow’s sermon. I’m sure you’ll truly appreciate it.” He said before walking off proudly to his father. Whatever he meant by that, you were sure you wouldn’t appreciate tomorrow’s sermon, and if anything you were dreading church even more now.

529 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 8 months ago

Text

with me + part five

authors notes: hi! you guys are so freaking awesome and sweet and like gawww, so grateful for such kind words and support!

so i realized that i used the wwe names for jimmy, jey, naomi, etc. that was my bad. i'll be using their real names moving forward for the sake of flow and consistency.

also keep forgetting to state that current timeline is 2023. like, this chapter is fall 2023. everything, so far, post breakup for joe and reader has been 2023. i plan to follow that timeline, so make of that what you will.

i hope this chapter isn't too boring to people!

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 5.7k

tags: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

“So, are we just going to continue to ignore each other?”

You’re not sure how, but you sense his presence long before he even says anything. And instantly, your mood is dampened, not that you were in the best spirits to begin with. You didn’t get much sleep the night before, for reasons you cannot fathom. But, it’s annoying as hell, especially when you have an ex turned fuck buddy who can’t seem to get a fucking clue ready to confront you outside of your daughter's preschool.

Sighing heavily, you pull out your phone to play around with your lock screen, because you really don’t have anyone you need to message in this moment. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not now, Amir.”

“Because you’re so busy?”

“Because I don’t care.” One thing you’ve learned about yourself over the years is that once you’re annoyed with someone, there’s no filter on your mouth and you cannot be held liable for what comes out of it. “Now, please, go away.”

He just looks at you, sun shining down on his waves and chocolate complexion. It’s unfortunate outside of his looks that he’s an overall trash partner. Decent friend. Shitty boyfriend. “You always do that shit, you know? Pull and then push. It was kinda cute when we were kids. Now, it’s just annoying.”

You were standing outside of Callie’s preschool, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, waiting for your little girl to come running out with a smile on her face, request on the tip of her tongue. It’s usually something small like wanting to show you what she learned in school. Lately, it’s been the same.

Can I call Joe?

A part of you feels bad for the amount of calls he probably gets in one day just from Callie alone. She took your offer for her to call him whenever he was available to another degree, not that he minded. He took as many as he could, listening to her talk and talk about whatever happened to be on her mind in that moment. And you let her.

What kind of mother would you be if you stopped her from talking to her dad? Even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is.

It’s been almost two weeks since he left, and she clearly misses him. You often overhear her asking about when he’s coming again. You also receive those questions. It’s something you and him discuss via text but haven’t landed on a date yet.

Communicating with Joe is also something that’s still an adjustment. It’s not as difficult or uncomfortable, because it’s almost entirely about Callie, but still.

“If that’s the case, why do you bother?” You manage a less insensitive tone, even if you know good and well you’ve never led this man on. Amir has always heard and believed what he wanted to believe. That was the problem. He never listened to you.

“Because I fucking care about your annoying ass, duh.”

His delivery, the tone, and cadence. You laugh. It’s probably inappropriate at the moment, but it does bring a smile to his face as well. “Softie.”

He moves closer to you, arms crossed. “I’m serious, Y/N. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.”

Leaning against your car, you respond as calmly as you can, “and you know I’ve always made it clear I’m not looking for anything more. We had our time, Amir. It didn’t work out. Now we just help each other get off. I don’t know why you keep trying to make it more than what it is.”

“A date. One date,” he implores. A waste of time, because your answer is no. It’s been no and will continue to be no. “You haven’t even given ‘adult’ us a chance.”

There’s a headache in your near future, one that’s reminiscent of past ones only Amir seems to induce. It’s interesting how he went from indifferent asshole to clingy asshole. You almost miss the earlier version.

Chocolate was supposed to be good for the soul, so why was he so draining to yours?

“Amir…..” You try to pick your words carefully and be mindful of your tone. “This is getting real old. I think we need to stop messing around, because we’re clearly not on the same page.” The next part is something you probably shouldn’t share, but you call yourself trying to be open and clear. “Calista’s dad is back, and we’re trying to navigate coparenting, so—”

“What?” He stops you, shock written over his handsome face. “Are you serious? You’re letting that motherfucker back in ya’ll life?”

This time, it’s his tone that jumps, accusatory and harsh. You immediately grow defensive. “You don’t know him.”

“God, why do you defend him like this? Is it that Stockholm Syndrome shit? He left you. He left you and his kid. What kind of man does that? And you’re just letting him back in? Just gonna jump back on his dick? Letting him around Callie? She’s old enough now to remember when he decides to leave again. I don’t get how you don’t see that. You her mama. You supposed to look out for her.”

And now, you’re done trying to be nice, trying to be mindful that he’s still another human being with feelings. Because one thing you never have and never will tolerate is someone insinuating you’re not looking out for your daughter. You’re not perfect, but you know that you’re a devoted, dutiful mother.

“It’s obvious comprehension isn’t your strong suit, which I should have known based off the fact that I always had to help your dumbass do your homework back when we were in school.” All bets….off. “My baby? My life? My pussy? All my business. You don’t get to judge the decisions I make for my child nor the role that her father has in her life. That’s between me and him. Keep your nose out my fucking business. Don’t worry about me hitting you up anymore. That’s dead.”

Your rose will do just fine. Hell, there’s gotta be at least one other eligible bachelor in town you could fuck if absolutely need be. But, you know damn well you won’t be messaging Amir anymore. He comes with too much baggage. It’s not worth it. You refuse to let a nigga whose height starts with a 5 stress you out.

True to his nature, he starts gaslighting you. Typical Amir. “There you go overreacting and shit.”

“No, I’m not. You’re trying to question my parenting when you don’t know shit about shit.”

He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes. This was why people used to say you had a temper in high school. Because of him. Because he loved to tell people what you said but never what he did. Always tried to make you feel crazy. Truth be told, you’re stupid for even opening that door with him again, even if it’s just for sex.

“Whatever, Y/N.” He turns to walk back over to his car. You really wish his damn sister would change her work schedule so she can pick up her son instead of this asshole. You’ll catch a case fucking with his dumbass. “I’ll wait for your text.”

He’ll be waiting. “Fuck you, Amir.”

You should be more mindful of your language at a damn preschool, but Amir has managed to get under your skin, something that hasn’t happened since you were in college. You know a good part of it is because you’re sleep deprived, but you also know it’s partially because of his dig at Joe.

You understand the optics seem to indicate that he’s a deadbeat, but you’ve expressed to Amir countless times that it was a complicated situation. He didn’t know the specifics, but you made it clear Joe didn’t abandon you or Callie. That’s just the narrative Amir keeps running with, and now with Joe being back in your life and especially in Callie’s life, you’re not gonna let it continue.

“Mommy!” Your head snaps to see and feel Callie run up to and hug her body against your leg. “Boo!”

Shit. Did she hear any of that? You hope not and paste on a smile that’s hopefully authentic enough to sell that everything is fine. “Callie Bear.” You lean down and pick her up, kissing her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She nods and starts explaining the activities while you buckle her into her carseat, trying your best to calm down and not give away your high stress levels in that moment. Callie is super perceptive, and you don’t want to ruin the obviously great day she’s had.

And sure enough, as you’re putting on your seatbelt and starting up the car, the golden question is shouted with pre-excitement.

“Can I call Joe when I get home?”

Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, you answer, “yes, you can.”

In the almost two weeks that have passed since Joe’s departure, not one day has passed that Callie doesn’t asks to call Joe or just outright helps yourself to her iPad to call him. Sometimes several times a day during the weekends. And she’ll talk to him for as long as she can, as long as he’s able to hold a conversation with her. You’ll give it to him, he’s done an exceptional job handling all of it. On some level, you wonder if you should set some restrictions or time parameters, but how do you limit how much a daughter interacts with her father?

Callie rejoices at your approval and requests for you to put on the Disney playlist you made specifically for her on Spotify.

The drive, no more than 10 minutes, consists of the two of you singing along to a few Disney tunes. It’s a bit of a tradition between you, a way to bond via your shared love of Disney. A love that ties not only you to her but to the women before you. Your mom and grandma.

Arriving to your apartment complex, you decide to leave your work bag in the car. It’s Thanksgiving break. You most likely won’t do any work until the day or two before having to return.

You do carry Callie on your hip and swing her bag around your shoulder, walking the two of you up to the second floor. Sometimes, you regret not accepting the apartment they had available on the first floor. The older you get, the less your joints like to cooperate, your almost 15 years of cheer probably taking a toll on your body.

And just age in general.

But your regret quickly turns to a level of gratitude when you reach your door.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dropping Callie to the floor, she’s of the complete opposite reaction, gasping and smiling broadly.

“Look mommy, more boxes!”

The smile is strained but you manage to maintain it, sticking the key in the door, unlocking and pushing it open.

She walks in, and you place her bag on the floor near the door, one foot keeping it open. “What do you think it is?” She asks as you pick them up and bring them inside, kicking the door closed behind you.

You know exactly what it is. What it all is.

Gifts.

From Joe.

In his absence, you’ve had several deliveries waiting outside your door when you got home from work and picking Callie up. And all of them were for Callie, gifts of variable nature but all of them things she loves. Disney, stuffed animals, dolls. Essentially anything that could make a 4 year old feel like she’s won the lottery.

She’s literally bouncing on her toes, already with her kids scissors in her hands.

When the hell did she grab those?

“Can I open them, please? Please?”

A part of you wants to say no, save them for christmas gifts, though you’re almost entirely certain he’ll have another set of gifts for her then. And it seems almost cruel to make her wait over a month when she knows there are presents waiting for her.

“Sure, but….” You scamper into the kitchen and grab your adult size scissors, returning and showing her. “Let mommy cut them, and then you open them.”

You don’t need this child accidentally cutting herself. Again, medical bills are not in the budget, especially around the holidays. Money’s already tight to some extent.

Not that….not that it’d be much of an issue with Callie. You’d never fix your moth to ask Joe for anything, especially not financially, but if it was something involving your daughter, you’re pretty sure your tune would change. It would still bother you to ask for help, but you know he’d have zero qualms helping you out.

He’d probably pay for it in its entirety.

Your proposition pleases her. “Okay!” She places her scissors on the nearest flat surface and sits down, legs crossed, bouncing impatiently.

Chuckling, you glide your scissors across, careful not to open anything. You want to save that moment for her and your plan.

Once done, you place the scissors on the kitchen island and reach for your phone. “Wait before you open, baby.”

Immediately, she frowns and scowls, “whyyyyyy.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor too to be at her eye level and open Snapchat. “Okay, now.”

You hit record and watch intermittently through and outside of the screen as she opens the boxes, smile permanent and excitement palpable. She especially gets excited when she pulls out a freaking box of the new Little Mermaid and all of her sisters. More….dolls.

“Look, mommy!!!” She then grabs a doll who has a surprisingly similar complexion and curl pattern to hers, holding it against her face. “She looks like me!”

“She does,” you agree, realizing it’s a customized American Girl doll. Damn. Those things can run up to $200. You weren’t stupid, knowing Joe’s probably spent more money on Callie alone in two weeks than you’ve spent all year, but just how much has he spent?

It’s when she opens the final box, surrounded by nothing but toys and packaging that you’re already dreading having to stuff all this in your trash bin, “what do you say, baby?”

Callie hugs the American Doll close to her chest and directs to the camera, “thank you, Joe!” She gasps and adds on, “I miss you, but mommy said I can call you tonight!”

You hold back your giggle and agree, adding, “after she helps mommy clean up all this.”

Her smile drops, pout returning, “I hate cleaning.”

Snickering, you mutter, “you and me too, sis.”

You end the video, save it and enter Joe’s chat to attach the video, adding a message.

You: You’re spoiling her, Joe. 😫 This is the third delivery this week alone.

You’re able to clean up some of the packaging and throw it away before your phone chimes with his response. Callie has grabbed the amount you expected her to grab and discard. Her attention span is trash at the moment. She’s a child surrounded by toys. It’s expected.

Joe: She's my little girl. Of course, I’m gonna spoil her.

Joe: There should be another one by the weekend. If not, let me know.

You sigh aloud, this man is gonna have your place looking like freaking KB Toys.

You: Omg

You: ….You know I live in an APARTMENT, right? Just where the hell am I supposed to put all of this stuff?

It’s sweet he’s so keen on gifting her these things, but he also has to realize you’re not living in a mansion in Malibu. And despite having a child who leaves messes wherever she goes, you do your best to keep your place tidy.

If you didn’t know Joe, didn’t see how easily he connected with Callie, you’d maybe accuse him of trying to “buy” her love. But, you know that’s not the case, know that he clearly just wants to make her happy. You just hope he knows that he does that all by himself, no gifts needed.

Joe: She has a whole playroom.

You: Yes. Playroom, not Toys-R-Us.

Joe: 🤷🏽‍♂️

You: 🙄 You’re aggravating.

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you decide to finish cleaning because at some point your child wandered off, most likely to her playroom to add all her new stuff with her slightly new stuff. Taking advantage of the alone time, you also decide to text your mom to figure out thanksgiving plans. Specifically, what drink, dessert, and/or condiments she wants you to bring because you damn well know she won’t ask you to cook.

She still hasn’t forgiven you for that accidental fire that one year.

And it’s when you’re sitting on the sofa, also starting to think about black friday plans that your mind wanders, your anxiety grows out of nowhere.

You’ve taken the approach to not have any say in Joe’s relationship with Callie, to intervene only when absolutely necessary. And as that hasn’t hasn’t occurred, you’ve not done so. You let him and her do their thing. But a small part of you wonders if you should put some parameters around Callie. She calls him several times a day, Joe, who spends more time on the road than there are days in the year.

You know he wants to establish a relationship with her, but that can be done with boundaries. Anxiety getting the best of you, you grab your phone and shoot him a text.

You: Is it okay if she calls you today? I know it’s been a lot, and if too much, just let me know. I’ll talk to her.

His reply comes almost immediately this time around.

Joe: She can call me 100 times. I don’t care. I wanna talk to her.

And instantly, the anxiety is almost non-existent. Deep down, you know this is what he wants. He wants to have interaction with her, and incessant Facetime calls are the only option with his crazy schedule, so it’s what he takes. It’s what he wants.

Pleased and no longer stressing over an issue that was never an issue, you lock your phone and place it back at your side. A quick glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time for Callie’s bath.

A couple minutes later, your phone dings with a text notification. From Joe.

You open it right away.

Joe: This weekend. Don’t tell her. I wanna surprise her.

You have to read it a couple of times before it registers. He’s coming back in town. This weekend. As in less than two days. You’re excited at this, happy as well. For Callie. But also, for yourself. Why? You haven’t a clue, well, maybe there’s a slight clue, but you don’t want to acknowledge that right now.

You simply want to focus on the fact that you’re happy your daughter will be happy her dad is town.

Who cares that you will be too.

________

Joe’s just walked out the bathroom, having showered and almost entirely prepped for bed when his phone rings.

Moving over to the hotel nightstand, he’s surprised when he sees Callie’s smiling face filling his screen. A glance at the clock in the corner of his phone reads 11:06, which means it’s 9:06 her time. Well past her bedtime. What is she doing up?

Curious, and regardless, he answers the phone. It takes a second for the connection to finalize when it does, he’s instantly smiling, mostly because it’s Callie but also because of her setup.

It’s obvious she’s under a blanket, a flashlight in the corner illuminating the space, a stuffed animal in her lap.

She’s the first to speak, her voice both loud and hushed in a way only she can do. “hi!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He can’t help but ask almost immediately, “what are you doing up?” As he told you, he’d talk to her 24/7 if he could. And even though this call is unexpected and appreciated, she’s also a 4-year-old kid who needs her sleep.

Her little shoulders lift in a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

Nodding, he follows up with, “where’s mommy?”

“Sleeping,” she answers with a level of disappointment. “I don’t wanna wake her up. She had a bad day.”

“Really?” Joe moves around so he’s laying on the bed, on his side, phone propped on the nightstand. “How do you know?”

“Cause–cause she was yelling at Mr. Amir, and–and he was yelling at her too.”

Joe hasn’t a clue why, but that instantly upsets him. Who the fuck is this Amir person, and who the hell does he think he is to raise his voice at you? Around Callie of all people.

“Who is Mr. Amir?” Joe hates asking her all of these questions, but it’s also hard not to.

“The basketball coach at the school for big kids.” She’s caressing the fur of the stuffed animal in her lap. “Aunt Mariah said he was mommy’s boyfriend when she was a big kid.”

“Really.” It’s not really a question as much as it is a general statement. Joe doesn’t know why he’s suddenly annoyed, not with Callie, but the entire situation. And definitely this Amir person even more now. He’s an ex. He dated you. It shouldn’t make him feel any type of way, but it does, and he hates that shit.

He hates a man he’s never even met.

“I don’t like Mr. Amir,” Callie suddenly announces with a scowl. Same, kid. Same. Joe looks at her, seeing so much of you in her right now. He knows you’ve mentioned how you see a lot of him in Callie, but when she’s glowering like this, she’s 100% her mama’s daughter. “He made mommy mad today.”

“Has he ever been mean to you?” Joe has to ask, because he’s also realizing a part of him is upset at the thought of Callie being around men. You’re a grown woman and allowed to do what you want, but bringing men around Callie….that’s an absolute fucking no.

He doesn’t give a damn if he’s only been in her life for two weeks or two minutes. She’s his daughter, and outside of himself and family, who you date should be kept far away from his daughter.

Joe mentally prepares to have this conversation—potential argument—with you.

“No,” she answers, slightly calmer. “He doesn’t like Disney.” She says it like it’s a sin, like it’s almost inconceivable for anyone to not like Disney.

Playing along with this, Joe gasps, grateful for the distraction that is Callie’s intricacies. “He sucks.”

“Yeah, he sucks,” she agrees, nodding. Joe has to keep his smile to himself. “Do you say bad words?”

The randomness and topic change take him by surprise, but he’s learning that you weren’t exaggerating when you said Callie was filled with incessant, unrelated questions. “Sometimes.”

“Mommy does too,” she reveals. “Grandma says Jesus doesn’t want us to say bad words, but I heard grandma call Ms. Beverly from church a bitch.”

At that, Joe can’t help his laughter. Her delivery, the punctuation she puts on the word ‘bitch’, to how she seems to not even process that she’s just said a bad word. It’s hilarious. “Well, sometimes grown ups say things we shouldn’t, and you just make sure you’re not saying things you shouldn’t.”

“Okay,” she agrees, almost sheepishly. And then, a yawn. “I’m sleepy.”

Joe knew she was from the moment she called, but he had a feeling she just needed to get the whole Amir thing off her chest. She doesn’t seem like the child who likes to or even can hold things in, which is preferable. “You should try to go to sleep then, sweetheart.”

She wipes at her eyes, expression suddenly saddened. “When are you coming back? You’ve been gone a really long time.”

He’s torn in this moment, wanting to tell her that he’ll be there this weekend but also not wanting to get her hopes up in case something comes up. There’s few things that could come up to keep him from going to see her, wrestling be damned, but still. Life has a way of lifing. So, he goes with the safe yet disappointing answer.

“Soon, I promise.” She’s clearly indifferent to this answer and doesn’t say anything, instead shifts on her bed, moving to lay down. “You should really try to sleep, Callie.”

Eyes starting to blink, clearly her exhaustion catching up with her, she asks, softly, “will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”

Her request tugs at his heartstrings. “Of course, sweetie.”

Seemingly pleased by this answer, she closes her eyes, and he watches. He stares at this tiny human whose existence he only learned about not even a month ago yet would do anything to make happy. Joe thinks about Callie constantly, finds himself smiling at the thought of some of the Snapchat videos you’d send him of her in all of her randomness. She was so entertaining, so full of life, a genuinely happy kid. His kid.

And it’s why he’s going to find out more about this Amir guy and why Amir is having any type of interaction with his daughter.

________

Joe: You should know she called me last night.

You’re in the middle of perusing early Black Friday deals, needing to budget for that now and taking full advantage of Callie being down for a nap. However, you frown, reading his message, not understanding why he’s stating the obvious. You were there when she asked for the iPad and when she returned it after the call was finished.

You: I’m aware….

Joe: No. After that.

Your eyebrows arch together, confused.

You: What? when?

Joe: It was 11 my time, so 9 yours.

You gasp, typing away, wondering how the hell she snuck in your room and managed a whole ass Facetime call without you hearing shit. Were you really that damn exhausted?

You: What the hell was she doing up at 9? What did she say? No wonder she was crabby this morning.

Joe: She said she couldn’t sleep.

You: A bad dream?

Joe: Naw, said you got into an argument with someone named Amir earlier that day and didn’t want to bother you….I think it was bothering her.

Your stomach twists at that. You had a feeling she’d overheard the incident with Amir, but you prayed that you were wrong. Clearly, you weren’t.

Joe: Who is Amir?

You pause at Joe’s question. Why is he asking this? What business of his is Amir? Irritation washes over you, but is waned by realizing he’s probably asking because of Callie. As her father, he has a right to know if you’re with someone, because for all he knows that someone could be around his daughter.

You really are trying with this co-parenting thing.

You: A lot of things. A pain in the ass being the most recent one.

You: We dated in high school and college on and off. He’s the basketball coach at our local high school.

It’s more information than probably what’s necessary, but there’s this small, conflicting part of you that wants him to know you have no ties to Amir. That there are no feelings there and haven’t been for literal years.

That you’re not with Amir.

Joe: Are you dating him again? Why were you arguing around Callie?

The interrogating is getting old, but you’re trying to play nice. Coparent peacefully. His delivery is off, but he has valid questions.

Sorta.

You: No. We just….we fuck around from time to time. He tries to make it more than what it is. Was about that.

You: I was waiting for her to be released from pre-school, and he picks up his nephew for his sister. It just happened, and I didn’t know/mean for her to hear.

Honestly, you’re more worried and concerned about Callie and how to approach this with her without making her feel like she was in trouble. Yes, she knows damn well she shouldn’t be on the iPad that late at night, but can you really be mad at her for talking to her dad about something that upset her?

Joe: You bring him around her?

You absolutely can be mad though at her dad who’s about to make you cuss him out next too. All of the questions are becoming too much. He gets to be concerned, but he doesn’t get to micromanage and invade.

Feeling petty and recalcitrant, you type out a reply that you should probably think twice before sending.

But fuck it.

You: No. I only ride his dick at his place. 🙂

There’s a small ounce of regret for being so crude, but not a whole lot. He knows how you are, or he should, at least.

To some extent.

But your phone rings again, and you find yourself staring mouth agape at his reply.

Joe: You may ride his dick, but you had my kid. Clearly, only one of us knows how to please you.

Your face is burning hot, and you hate how you shift in your seat. Why the fuck would he say that? You want to say it’s inappropriate, but you also opened this door.

Is he entirely wrong?

Slapping away that wild ass thought, you focus on the real conversation at hand here. It takes a couple of rewrites before you ultimately decide to change the subject.

You: I’ve never bought any man around her and never will that’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking.

You’re grateful to see he’s also agreeing to change the subject.

Joe: It is. Thank you.

Rolling your eyes, you send a text back, getting back to being annoyed at his 21 Questions. This is a two-way street, and since he’s opened this door, why not?

You: You know that goes both ways though. I don’t want her around any bitches.

Joe: Seriously?

Joe: There’s no one for me to bring her around.

You…..you don’t know how to feel about that, don’t know how to feel about the bit of relief you feel at this message. Why should you feel relieved? Even if there was, that’s his business, and he’s allowed to….do whatever it is that he does.

It reminds you and brings you to your next topic.

You: What about your wife? We need to figure that out as well. She’s eventually going to need to know about Calista and will probably be around her at some point. I get she’s your wife, but I’m Callie’s mother, I need to be there whenever you wanna introduce Callie. I need to be involved in that process as well.

He doesn’t reply.

________

Joe doesn’t really get mad.

Not often at least and definitely not outwardly.

It’s always been his thing to never let anyone have access to that “button” that triggers his anger, and for the most part, it works well.

Except for when it comes to you.

You’ve always been able to trigger many things for him, anger being one of them.

He knows he should have spoken to you in person about the situation, or even over the phone. But with the craziness of his schedule and differing time zones, he just decided to message you, and while it didn’t go horribly, it didn’t go great. He knows you’re annoyed with him.

Hence your crudity.

Joe also refuses to admit that the thought of you fucking this kid pisses him the fuck off, even though you’re not together, even though he has no right to be upset.

But goddamn that doesn’t make him any less upset or annoyed at the thought of someone else touching you.

“Uce?” Jon asks, standing at the door before inventing himself in Joe’s locker room for this week’s Smackdown. “You ready to talk man?”

At that, Joe looks confused. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that got you all worked up.” The twins have always been very perceptive, even back when they were all kids. Joe might be good at hiding his frustration from others but not them. The difference between Jon and Josh though has always been Josh has the wherewithal to not say anything.

Jon hasn’t caught on to that just yet.

“I’m fine,” Joe dismisses, hoping it’s enough to dead the conversation, even though he knows better.

“Lie detector determined that was a goddamn lie.” Jon can be pushy, but he means well, and truthfully, Joe doesn’t have a strong desire to outright shut down this conversation. A different perspective is always beneficial.

Usually.

So, he explains it all, starting with his call with Callie and ending with the text exchange between him and you.

“I see,” Jon nods, clearly absorbing all of this information. Finally, he concludes, “so you’re jealous.”

That’s the first thing to evoke a genuine laugh out of Joe since his exchange with Y/N. “I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m not a twin,” Jon dismisses. “Look, Uce, it’s obvious you still got feelings for ole girl. You ask me, I don’t think you ever got over her—”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“--Now you sitting up here annoyed cause she fucking Coach Carter nephew instead of doing something about it.” Joe rolls his eyes. “I mean have you even told her about you and J—”

“No,” he interrupts, swiftly. “Not yet, at least.”

Nodding, Jon speaks again after a minute of silence. “All I’m saying is ya’ll got the history, got the connection, got the kid too! Don’t see why you need to be letting Jesus Shuttlesworth steal your girl.”

At that, Joe chuckles. One thing his cousins will always be good for, especially Jon, is comedic relief. Even some sound advice from time to time.

“Thanks.”

Joe is, surprisingly, thankful for the equally surprising advice from his cousin. He’s not entirely sure if he’s really jealous or just overreacting for a reason he hasn’t quite uncovered, but he is starting to lean more on the side of he does still have some level of feelings for Y/N.

It’s not a complete shock. He had a feeling when he reacted so strongly to just seeing your picture. It was the whole Callie situation and finding out how you kept her from him that made his vision murky.

But, as his relationship with her strengthens, the clearer he can see.

The clearer his feelings are becoming. Now. it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with said feelings.

And find out where you stand as well.

Joe remains quiet, thinking more and more how this might end up being an eventful trip.

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #black writers #arisnotebook

169 notes · View notes