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k-evans-reads · 2 days ago

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In Living Color

Chapter 27

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 4,096

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

September 16th, 2022

It didn’t matter that the sun was barely starting to peek in through the windows, or the fact that this week had been nothing short of exhausting for him, or even that he had flown across the country late last night, Chris couldn’t sleep. He had managed to close his eyes and get a few hours of rest, but most of it had been completely restless as his brain swirled with so many noisy thoughts.

Chris laid there in that tiny bed, looking at Nat next to him as she was softly illuminated by the early morning sun and all he could feel was sick to his stomach. He saw the tear stains on her cheeks and bags under her eyes along with feeling how frail her frame was underneath his touch as he rested his hand on her waist and gently brushed her skin with his thumb. He remembered how only months earlier, he had come to San Francisco to make sure that their lives wouldn’t go separate ways. He knew they were meant to be together, he knew he wanted them to be together, so much so that he had that ring that he couldn’t wait to give her.

But in all this time over the summer he had no idea that she was sitting across the country completely miserable and that almost scared him more than anything. How could he have missed all of this? Why hadn’t she plainly told him how much she hated it here? Why did he ever call off his trip here last month and go home instead? How much farther would it have gone if Jamie hadn’t called him? And that was the thought that made his stomach churn.

Tears started falling down his cheeks as he looked at her sleeping next to him and couldn’t help but think that something so easily could have happened to her. How easily it would have been for her to get to even a worse point than she already was without him having a clue. She had been here struggling along with each day completely alone. His body shook with his crying as he thought about losing her, knowing that was something he just couldn’t handle.

He didn’t mean to wake her, wanting her to give her body the rest it so desperately needed but he just couldn’t stop his tears and the noise and shaking caused Nat’s puffy eyes to flutter open as she groggily asked, “Chris? What’s wrong?”

But he couldn’t respond. All he needed then was to feel her. To know she really was here. He wrapped his arms around her delicate frame and pressed himself against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he heavily cried. Nat didn’t ask anything, instead just held him back just as tight and he felt a few of her own tears spilling on him.

There in the stillness and darkness of the morning, Chris whispered, “I could have lost you Nattie. I could have lost you and I didn’t even know what was going on.”

“I…I tried to tell you,” she admitted, her voice shaky and nearly silent. “I just didn’t know how.”

“Promise me if this ever happens again, you’ll be honest. I can’t lose you, Nattie, I just can’t,” Chris told her, feeling his heart race with that thought. He didn’t know how he’d go on if she wasn’t around, how he’d breathe without her by his side, tucked against him everyday.

“I promise I will,” Nat whispered. She took a shuddering breath as she wiped her eyes, adding, “I love you Chris and I just…”

“I know,” he interrupted, nodding a bit to himself. “I love you too, baby.”

He lifted his head, bringing his weepy eyes to look at her before leaning in to kiss her softly, reminding her silently that they were in this together. They were a team and nothing was going to pull them apart. Chris reached over to tuck a piece of curly hair behind her ear before apologizing, “I’m sorry I woke you. Try to go back to sleep, you need the rest.”

Nat nodded, her eyes already beginning to slip shut as the exhaustion once again took over. “Are you going to sleep more?” She mumbled as she rested her head further back against the pillow, rolling onto her side to face Chris.

“I think I’m going to go get some coffee but I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered back, his hand moving up and down her side slowly until she drifted back off to sleep. Once he was sure she was out, he slipped out of the bed slowly, making his way out of the bedroom and shutting the door behind him, finding his mother slowly making her way through the kitchen.

A small sideways smirk slipped onto his lips as he made his way through the small apartment, the floorboards creaking underneath his feet. “So I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep, huh?” He asked quietly, grateful as he watched Lisa turn on the coffee maker.

She looked over her shoulder at him with an arched eyebrow as she replied, “Is that really surprising? You’re just worried about Nat, but I have you to worry about too.”

He nodded in understanding, leaning the small of his back against the old countertop as he stretched his aching, tense muscles. “I just don’t know how this happened,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Did Nat really not say anything about it?”

Chris shrugged as he thought. He’d overanalyzed everything from the last six months, scrolling back in their texts as far as he could, trying to read between the lines. “Well looking back now I remember her telling me how hard it was to settle here and I know I should have asked her more about it but I just never imagined it was like this,” he explained, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “I never should have stayed home before filming, I should have come here and then I would have known.”

“You can’t go back now, honey. But we can help Nat through this,” Lisa encouraged him, filling a mug with coffee and a splash of creamer before she put it on the counter next to him so she could do the same for herself.

“She told me she feels like failing at this job is failing at her dream,” Chris recalled, sighing before he took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t know how to make her see that’s not true.”

Lisa stood across the tiny kitchen from Chris, only a few steps away. “I don’t know that she will see that it isn’t true, because it is true in her mind. I think instead of trying to change her mindset, you just need to be there for her,” she began, and Chris knew she was right, but it seemed like a rather impossible task to get themselves out of this hole.

“I don’t feel like I’ve done a good job at that,” he admitted while he stared down at his feet, his cheeks blushing a bit sheepishly.

“Well you can now,” Lisa encouraged.

“I just feel like this is my fault. Maybe if I wasn’t so busy, or maybe if I hadn’t suggested we go public at the Lightyear premiere things would be better… I know being in the spotlight isn’t something she wanted,” Chris explained, his brows furrowed as he thought back to that day, at how nervous Nat was to see the chatter online after. “I mean, I fuckin’ bought her a ring to propose to her while she was across the country completely miserable.”

“Chris, you can’t try to find the solution in the past,” Lisa told him firmly, and he knew she was right. She nearly always was and she always knew how to guide and encourage not only him and his siblings, but anyone else who came to her for advice as well. “There’s nothing you can do differently about the past, all you can do is handle things right now. I think what you need to focus on is what you know you want.”

He frowned, looking over at her as he asked, “What do you mean?”

“What is it that you want?”

“I just… I just want Nat. I want to be with her and I want her to be okay,” he decided after a moment of thought, knowing that that simple idea was all that mattered to him anymore after seeing just how low she’d been.

Lisa nodded, a warm, comforting smile on her lips. “Then try to come at everything from that angle. Don’t beat yourself up, don’t try to figure out where it went wrong, just remember you love her and want to help her and just try to do those two things right now,” she encouraged.

Chris nodded, knowing that she was right, but it still felt so daunting to him. Seeing just how much Nat was falling apart absolutely terrified him and for her to actually admit how much she hated it here made him aware of just how bad it must be. The heaviness in his heart had him feeling so downcast, thoughts churning over and over in his head while he occupied his time with cleaning up the messy apartment… just another sign at how much Nat was struggling to handle everything.

It wasn’t until both he and Lisa heard movement in the bedroom that Lisa grabbed her purse and told him that she was headed to the grocery store. He knew that Nat’s cabinets were bare but he also was thankful for the space his mother was giving so that they could have some time alone. Chris was just pouring her a cup of coffee when he saw her messy curls poke out of the bedroom, that frail little frame shuffling out as he instantly pulled her into his embrace the moment she was close enough.

“I was going to bring you coffee. Ma went out for a bit to get some groceries, ” he muttered while kissing the top of her head. When she didn’t respond, he dipped his head to look at her distressed face, asking, “Do you want to go back to bed?”

“…I probably shouldn’t,” She bit at her bottom lip, knowing as depressed as she was, she needed to try to get out of the place where she’d spent the majority of her time.

Chris just rubbed her back before glancing over at her couch, situated right by the big window that was letting the morning sunshine pour in and knew that always helped, suggesting, “Let’s just go sit on the couch, honey.”

With her coffee in one hand and his other arm securely around her shoulders, they slowly made their way to the couch. Chris sat down while Nat curled up, her back against the armrest while her legs were resting in Chris’ lap. He draped a blanket over their laps, tucking Nat in before he handed her the coffee and then let his warm hand rub along her leg. He decided not to say anything right now, just letting her sip her coffee. Chris was deep in his thoughts, trying to figure out what the hell to do when he was surprised, finally hearing Nat’s almost unrecognizable small voice hesitantly speak up.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” Nat trailed off, tears instantly clouding her vision as Chris looked at her with such concern, it made her heart ache.

“Don’t know what, baby?” He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but insistent. “You can tell me. I’m here for you.”

“I just don’t know… what to do,” Nat’s voice cracked, her words barely above a whisper. “I’m so miserable, Chris.” She could feel the weight of the world on her chest, and no matter how hard she tried to breathe, it felt like the air just wasn’t enough.

“It’s going to be okay, Nattie.” Chris’s hand found its way to her back, rubbing soothing circles as he tried to calm her. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

“I don’t even know how to figure it out. Everything just feels so overwhelming,” she said, her voice faltering with exhaustion. It felt like she was stuck in a never-ending loop, and no matter which direction she turned, nothing made sense anymore.

“Do you feel like you want to talk it through a little?” Chris asked gently, trying to help her untangle the mess of thoughts swirling in her mind.

“…I just… I just need help,” Nat admitted, her chest tight with the weight of her words. It felt so hard to ask for help, but the longer she fought it, the harder everything became.

“That’s why I’m here, baby. I’m here to help you and I’m not leaving you until we’ve got some solutions,” Chris’s voice was firm yet warm, his determination matching the depth of his love for her. “You told me something earlier that I can’t stop thinking about though… that you failed at your dream.”

“I did,” Nat replied in a hollow voice, the words heavy with defeat.

“Why was this your dream, though?” Chris asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “I mean, Nattie, you’re an artist and a damn good one. That’s a completely different skill set than managing artists.”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly. “I guess I just… I saw my dad work so hard to support my dream all my life, and I wanted to be successful. I wanted to have the job that said I’d made it.” Her voice trembled with the weight of her own vulnerability. “I wanted to make him proud, I guess. I thought if I could prove I’d ‘made it’ in the way he would understand, it would make everything worth it.”

Chris felt a pang in his chest, knowing how deep her desire for approval ran, especially after losing her mom at such a young age. He could see the thread that tied her present struggles to that past pain—her fear of not measuring up, of being the “black sheep” in her family, of never fully fitting into the mold she’d hoped to fill.

“It’s okay that sometimes things don’t work out, though,” he said gently, trying to reassure her. “It’s not a reflection of you, Nattie. At the end of the day, it’s just a job. It’s not who you are.”

Her eyes met his, but there was still that deep fog of uncertainty behind them. Chris’s heart ached as he watched her struggle, as she curled up tighter on the couch, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold it all together.

“Do you want to talk about it more?” he asked, rubbing his hand along her leg, trying to ground her. “I know it’s a lot, but maybe talking it through will help you feel less overwhelmed.”

She was quiet for a moment, tears continuing to streak down her cheeks, her breath shaky. “I just feel stuck. Like no matter what I do, it’s never going to be enough. And I don’t even know where to begin fixing it.”

Chris sighed, feeling the weight of her words sink into him. He didn’t know how to fix it all either, but he knew that the most important thing right now was to be there for her, to hold her while she figured it out.

“Nattie,” he asked, his voice soft but insistent. “When were you the most happy this past year?”

“What do you mean?” She looked up at him, her expression confused as she wiped at her eyes.

“When were you the most happy?” he repeated, his tone encouraging. “What pops into your mind when you think about being happy recently?”

“Oh…” Nat’s eyes drifted downward, her brow furrowing as she tried to sift through the last year in her mind. “Well, I mean, I guess honestly… when I was painting for my art show and…” She hesitated, her voice faltering, “Anytime I’m with you.”

Chris felt a flicker of hope. There it was—the spark of something that still made her feel alive. Art. And him. That was where her happiness lay, even if it felt so far out of reach right now.

“Nattie, you know that I’m going to support you in anything you want to do and I’m going to help you,” Chris said, the conviction in his voice growing stronger. “Maybe we could figure out some ways to make more time for us to be together, for you to do more art for yourself. You know, if that’s something you really want to do.”

“Maybe…” Her voice was hesitant, but Chris could see the wheels turning in her head, the possibility starting to form.

He tried to read her, sensing her internal struggle. “Tell me what you’re thinking, honey. I know it’s a lot to process, but I want to help. I want to understand.”

“I’m not sure.” Nat’s voice was small, almost fragile as she spoke. “I just feel so stuck, like nothing’s moving forward. Like I’m going in circles and I don’t even know what to do.”

Chris gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not alone, Nattie. You don’t have to figure it all out today, or even tomorrow. We can take it one step at a time.”

She met his gaze then, her eyes searching his face, as if she were trying to decide whether she was allowed to say the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

“Do you think you might want to see if you could go back to LA and just do what you were doing?” Chris asked, his tone tentative. “There, you’d be doing character design again and you’d have Jamie and Mark again.”

Nat’s eyes welled up again, and she reached up to wipe at them. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “It’s not about the job, though, Chris. It’s not about what I’m doing. I just… I feel like I’m drowning in it all. I don’t want to go back to that life.”

Chris leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, his thumb swiping under her eyes to catch the tears that kept falling. As he pulled back, Nat reached out for his hand, holding it tightly against her chest.

She looked at him with a newfound clarity, her voice quieter now, but more resolute. “Chris… I want to quit.”

At that one sentence, Chris felt like the air had been knocked out of him. The weight of it was staggering. Nat had always been a workaholic, driven by her ambition and passion. For her to say that she wanted to quit, he knew she had hit her breaking point.

“That’s okay, baby,” he said, his voice steady, though his heart ached for her. “It’s just a job, and you gave it your all. It’s just not the right fit for you.”

“I don’t want to go back to the Burbank office,” she added quietly, as if testing the waters. “I don’t want to do any of this anymore, Chris. I’m happy when I’m with you and when I’m painting, and I… I kind of just want to do that.”

The look on her face told him everything—she was finally giving herself permission to let go of the expectations, to stop chasing someone else’s idea of success.

Chris wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and pressed his face into her neck, letting the warmth of her soothe him as much as he hoped it would soothe her. A few of his own tears slipped out as he let out a breath, one that had been caught in his chest for days.

“I love you so much, Nattie,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You know I’m going to support you in anything you want to do, but I want to see you let go of what you think you need to do and instead focus on what you want to do. Jobs are just jobs, and it’s okay to want to do something different. Something that makes you happy.”

“You don’t think I’m a failure?” she asked softly, the vulnerability still there in her eyes.

“Natalie Marton, you are the farthest thing from a failure,” Chris said firmly, his voice full of conviction. “I just want to see you happy, whether that’s designing characters at Pixar or working at a coffee shop. I love you, Nat. And I don’t think I’ve kept it a secret that I want to be with you forever. I don’t care what you do as long as you’re happy.”

Her eyes softened, and for the first time in a long while, there was a light in them again. “Being with you and doing my art is what would make me happy,” she said, her voice steady for the first time since he’d been there.

Their arms snaked around each other, holding each other so tightly as they both finally felt like everything was going to be okay. Never in a million years did either of them think that when they each started working on Lightyear that it would somehow bring them here together. It brought them a missing piece in each of their lives, giving them each a love that they knew would last their whole lives. They were together and that’s what mattered more than anything.

“I’ll support you no matter what, Nattie,” Chris murmured, gently brushing his lips against her forehead. “You’re not alone in this. You’ve never been alone. And I promise, you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself anymore.”

Nat closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his words, the love in his embrace. In his arms, she felt safe. She felt like she could take a deep breath and finally let go of some of the weight she’d been carrying.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to hope. Hope that she could rebuild, that she could let go of the expectations and just do what felt right. Painting, being with Chris, finding peace within herself—it was all possible. Maybe it wasn’t a clear path yet, but it would be.

They stayed there, in the quiet of the morning, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the apartment seeming far away and unimportant.

Chris gently kissed the top of her head again, then sighed, almost content, as his thoughts turned to the future. “You know,” he murmured, breaking the peaceful silence, “I’ve been carrying something around for a while now… but maybe it’s time to let it out.”

Nat’s eyes opened, curiosity and concern flickering in her gaze. “What is it?” she asked softly.

Chris hesitated for a second before he spoke, his voice full of emotion. “I’ve had a ring for you, Nattie. I was going to propose before all this… before everything happened. But now, I just want you to know that no matter what you decide—what job you take, where you go, what you do—I'm here. I’m in this with you. I want to spend my life with you.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, Nat was silent, letting the weight of them settle between them. Her chest tightened, a fresh wave of emotion washing over her. She had always known how much Chris loved her, but hearing him say it like that—so sure, so unconditionally—made her heart swell.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” Chris smiled, his thumb gently tracing her knuckles. “Just know that whenever you're ready, whenever you want to move forward, we’ll do it together.”

Nat rested her head back on his chest, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude and love. She wasn’t sure how she would get through the storm that had been her life recently, but with Chris by her side, she knew she could face anything.

For the first time in months, she allowed herself to think about a future—one that was different, one where she didn’t have to fit into anyone else’s idea of success, but one where she could be herself. And with Chris, there would be room for that.

It was time for a new dream. A dream of their own.

And whatever that looked like, she was ready to take it on.

A/N: It has been so so long and we are so thrilled to finally close out Nat's story! To those of you who have patiently waited, we cannot thank you enough for loving her. We do have a little summary of their future we will post in a few days as well. We hope it was worth the wait.

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shenzi-town · 2 days ago

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#rdr2 #micah bell #red dead redemption 2 #reddeadredemption2 #rdr2 fanart #OC/micah bell #female oc #original female character

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milsae · 7 months ago

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oc (it's she)

#milsae #oc #lesbian #female oc #women

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mpw-04 · 10 months ago

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Making a comeback 💥 tried a trend that’s been floating around, oddly proud of the results.

/Feedback is appreciated/

#black dress #dress meme #kemono #anthro #oc #artwork #drawing #digital art #digital illustration #rkgk #rkgkillust #my art #female oc

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ak319 · 5 months ago

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Lovesick Rich Gf x Fem gp reader🛍️💋

(Headcanon)

(Warnings: Toxic love, obsessed, implied sexual content, possessive themes, blackmailing,)

Roxi Moores, your girlfriend is the daughter of Altan Moores, owner of the Mooranda hotel chain which is their family-owned business. That's right, their family is half Turkish and half English. Not to forget she is an international model. You, however, were a simple college student who got a job at one of the Hotel branches as a server.

Roxi was one of those people who didn't pay much attention to the people catering to her as she was always used to being pampered. But when you came to take her order dressed in that white dress shirt, with a notepad in your hands, and greeted her and her girlfriends in that cushioned urbane voice, she nearly folded right there. That night is what Roxy now celebrates as your guys' "Love at first sight anniversary" even though it was only one-sided and your ass was so aloof at that time of serving her. You didn't even know until she left that she was the owner's DAUGHTER!

Anyway, Roxi had set her eyes on you and you are damn wrong if you think she doesn't get what she wants. It's not like she lacks anything. She has charisma, looks, and money, though she could tell you were not a person to fall for someone's wealth so she had to work hard. And really hard to get such an attractive, nice woman like you at her feet.

Her alluring blue eyes made you weak in the knees, not to forget her honeyed voice and her luscious caramel brown hair. You began to see her more at the dining and eventually, you responded to her flirting too sometimes but there was this nagging voice at the back of your head reminding you of your status and how it might be so wrong and disastrous to date Altan's only daughter. But she convinced you and convinced you well ♡ by easily luring you into her suite. God, you couldn't believe how you even scored that night just by getting a job there.

Your apprehension about her father's opinion was cleared when she out of the blue once brought him for not more than 5 minutes due to his busy schedule and introduced you. To this day you still wonder how you kept your composure when meeting a billionaire as his daughter's GF and as a lowly SERVER and that too in a WEEK of DATING?! Well to be fair at that point you thought that you were still in a situation-ship but Roxi made no mistake of reminding you that you were her girlfriend.

Then, your relationship with her began and you had no idea how your life would change when looking back on it now.

She was cute, smart, and elegant. You absolutely adore how she is attentive towards you. She listened to your rants about your college dramas and would be like a strict parent if you missed one day of your gym. Yes, she would be MAD if you didn't work out. She is obsessed with your abs and will even put stickers on them or would doodle with her glitter Sharpies giggling after riding you dry while you are laying there still trying to find your ass in the milky way. Not that you minded but now you didn't get to skip the workout and would have to send her a snap as soon as you step into the gym. She is the one who sits on your back like a princess as you do pushups or makes you do them on top of her for practice as she pays you with kisses on each one you do.

She would give you a private catwalk trying to distract you from studying or your game time by trying on the sensual nighties she could get her hands on. Passwords are non-existent between you both and don't you dare remove her picture as your wallpaper. You can only change it to a different picture. She does the same with her phone.

As this was your first serious relationship, you were indulging in the way she made it so magical for you but you were also overwhelmed. Because having a brand customize a couple perfume sets and bracelets only for you both seemed too much to you. Whenever you put forward your complaint of her spending her money on you as it literally made you feel spineless, she would throw tantrums and cry and let it be known that her tantrums are not easy to control. Thank God, you chose to discuss this problem at her house and not yours because your family would have their wits blown away if they witnessed this side of hers instead of the sweet humble chic girlfriend one.

Roxi, your number one supporter will be at your every (fave sport) match at your college, cheering you but she always looked so prim and proper while doing it. You never understood how she did it. When it comes to your attention and the competition, Roxi is gravely calm and it can be quite chilling for you as she is the clingy type. But she is indeed a secure and confident person and she trusts you too. The other girls don't even stand a chance against her so why give a fuck?. But little do you know that if she catches you initiating something ever, your life is going to get W-R-E-C-K-E-D. Thank God you’re loyal—one of the many things she loves about you. So don't ever forget that she is the only girl in your life. The scratches on your back remind you daily anyway. She never lets them heal.

How does she even-aren't her nails oval?! Nevermind.

It was however the other way around. You were the possessive one and she relished in the fact that you didn't like her wearing too revealing clothes not because you were insecure, you just didn't trust other people and the way they might think of her in their minds. Roxi didn't mind one bit as she wanted to be dolled up only for you.

The moment when she first found out you were pursuing a business-related degree, she had already formulated and decided every step of your future and you didn't even know. She was going to make you into a perfect daughter-in-law for her parents, especially her father. She was tired of being spoiled by her dad and wanted the role to be passed on to you now. She had already tested you multiple times and seeing how you gave 0 shits about her money made her more determined every time.

So as soon as you graduated she tried to convince your stubborn hardworking ass to first stop with this part-time job of a server for God's sake but you were persistent and did it alongside a corporate one but not in her dad's company. This enraged her further to her core. She couldn't stand the thought of you licking someone's shoes just to get a few bucks! In her mind, the server job was way better as at least it was her dad paying you and not some other bastard. She really remained patient with you whether it was when you took her on dates or when you gifted her something as she just loathed the fact that it was bought from the extra money that you were earning through your other job. After having enough of this bullshit, one day she just stormed into your office and grasped the attention from every corner. Some recognized her, and some were plain curious to see such a beautiful woman with such a furious look. She barged into your boss's office and demanded them to fire you. You ultimately calmed her down and controlling your own anger, escorted her out.

That was the day you cut it off with her...at least you thought you did. Well, you got fired anyway since your boss found out whose daughter she was and didn't want any trouble. You got texts from her, ranging from apologies to straight-up threats of you not ever getting a job anywhere in the world. At this rate, you had resigned from your serving job because of her and were depressed. Your family instead of supporting you took her side as she had hypnotized them with her sweet and caring nature. They wanted you to just accept the job at Mooranda International. And you did that eventually when her father came to your doorstep and took you to his company and hired you as his executive assistant which was such a big role for you.

You started your job and honestly, it felt robotic. Your soul wasn't in it and how can you forget the way it was handed to you, in a literal gold platter but make it a platter full of thorns and spikes that you just had to accept no matter what.

As far as Roxi is concerned, she visited you in the office as if nothing had changed between you two and soon you realized that you were trapped in this situation both by her and her father and could only act as if nothing had occurred. She re-entered your life and things slowly returned back to normal, and if you consider getting a mansion, luxurious cars and access to a private jet normal, then yes. Everything is normal.

You both live together now and Roxi finally got what she wanted. Making you spoil her every day by demanding things left and right. She fantasized about waking up every day and seeing you get ready to go work with her father and it was finally true!. Every morning she would make sure the maids got breakfast perfectly cooked to your liking and the favourite part of hers was to see you off with a kiss. After that either she went for shoots or just spoiled herself to look pretty for you when you came back.

Her father on the other hand made sure to be ten times harder on you than other employees to make sure you are ready to one day take his position and be a good wife to his lovely daughter. Despite his reservation of having his daughter date a server from his own hotel, he had taken a liking to you. He still remembered her tears when you both temporarily broke up and he sure as hell is not letting his baby cry again over your ass. After all, his dearest daughter always gets what she desires.

Speaking of desires, Roxy is insatiable when it comes to you. Now more than ever since you look so fucking sexy wearing suits and dress shirts. The way you drive the latest Bugatti La Voiture Noire with those hands of yours, one of which always has to be on her thigh or she's jumping out. She puts on the playlists she makes for you. It is so hot to see you be so serious and focused on driving and even working when she is all over you. Knowing that at the end of the day, you will fuck her anyway.

She never fails to blush when you serve her sometimes as it reminds her of the first time she met you. Her shyness and that dreamy look in her eyes make you serve her more often than ever that now it has become a habit at dinner time.

Don't for a second dare to think that you can wear white and not have her clinging to you to put a lipstick stain on various parts of your shirt. Seeing you embarrassed makes her giddy but she still doesn't let you clean them and instead makes you wear a coat.

Roxi really wants to sometimes make those adorable Tiktoks of relationship aesthetic but she knows you are not a fan of showing off and she kind of agrees with this notion as she doesn't want anyone's evil eye to befell upon your relationship. So instead she just makes such videos for her private account and posts some of yours in which either your back is facing her from the balcony as you're enjoying your (tea/coffee) or you're holding a bouquet for her, your face covered by the flowers. Such media in which the relationship is not that OTT. She loses herself in the attention you get online when people are curious about you, thirsting over you or whether it's her own friends congratulating her on catching such a fine specimen as you. The fact that nobody can steal you away from her no matter how much they try, always makes her day.

Now, her plan is to be your wife. She is just waiting for the day you pop the question. But she knows you are going to make it special so she can wait. She will wait. But it is so unfair that she has to. She has never waited for anything in her life and now, for the thing she wants the most, she has to. She could propose to you but she doesn't want it that way! She wants you on your knees for her. She is your everything, isn't she? And it's not like she doesn't have other plans on standby if you show no signs of wifing her up...

She had a previously failed engagement with a gold digger douchebag that her father chose for her and it was vile. She is not going to be treated like that ever again and you have proved yourself to be worthy of her and treated her better than her ex-fiance whom you hated too just by hearing about him treating your princess like shit. So she knows you love her beyond words at this point.

A snippet🤍

"Why didn't you respond to my texts?! You knew we had a golf date planned!". Your ears were not prepared for that shriek after the hectic day you had.

"Baby-I said sorry and can you-"

"NO! You are not going to work tomorrow and we are spending all day together. You hear me?! Don't you dare ignore my texts again!" She dug her nails on your shoulders.

She was currently on your lap in the tight golf outfit she wore specifically for you. How did she even think you would take her out in the skirt she’s wearing? She is indeed playing right now. But she couldn't stop teasing you with the way she moved on your lap and you knew she was doing it to make you more pissed.

"That's it." You carried her over your shoulder and onto the bed and Roxi couldn't be more happier. Good thing that she had already thrown away the condom packet.

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myangxlics · 1 year ago

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Yandere Jock x reader x Yandere Cheerleader

Warnings: Yandere themes, gaslighting

Ethan Moore and Sonya Ross are the picture perfect couple. They’re the couple everybody is jealous of or hates, yet the two felt like something was missing.

The moment the new transfer student entered the classroom, Sonya knew that you were the missing piece to her and Ethan. She immediately invites you to sit next to her, introducing herself and complimenting you. Once class starts, she sneaks a picture of you and sends it to Ethan. Ethan immediately fell in love too. You were so cute and everything about you was perfect.

Once the bell rings, Sonya immediately grabs your arm. “Oh hon, you should sit with me at lunch!” She says, you’re confused expression going completely unnoticed. You attempt to say no but Sonya is already tugging you with her.

Tbh both are incredibly delusional

Like if you reject them, they just think you’re playing hard to get

They most likely guilt trip you into dating them

They also make you sit between them at their lunch table. Sonya always tries to gossip with you while Ethan attempts to teach you about football

If you miss any of their practices or games, they get real upset and guilt trip you

Ethan loves, loves, LOVES seeing you in his varsity jacket. Since it has his name on it, it shows everyone that you’re taken

Sonya loves to take you shopping. Spoiling you is her hobby

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sparkrls · 11 months ago

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girl uncle

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry becomes an uncle and has a bad case of baby fever

Author’s Note: congratulations to Gemma, i’m so happy for her and the entire Styles family. if this sucks, it's because babies scare me and i tried to write a fic about baby fever... not my smartest move

Word Count: 1k

···

“Baby? You okay?” Y/N murmured, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face. His lower lip trembling as he stared at the rose-flushed baby.

Harry shook his head, the first tear trailing down his cheek. Y/N could never stand to see him weep. It made something inside of her shatter as he lost his composure.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He leaned his head against her shoulder, tears trailing down his face and onto her shirt. His eyes never left the baby.

Gemma laid fast asleep in the bed behind them. In a little while, the nurse would come in to check in on the baby and Gemma. But for now, Harry and Y/N were left with a sleeping Gemma and a baby to gaze at.

Harry had been stressed out of his mind when Michal called to tell them Gemma’s water had broken and they were headed to the hospital. He had fussed over every detail, and Y/N had been the one to grab the car keys and usher him out of the house. She knew he wasn’t in any mental state to be driving.

The time in the waiting room had been spent by Y/N helping Michal with all the paperwork and Harry pacing in circles. She’d gotten him a tea and ordered him to sit down. As he sipped on his tea, his face still in an anxious frown, she’d pressed a notebook and pen in his hands. Y/N had cupped his face in her hands and instructed, “Everything on your mind, write it down. All the anxious overthinking- lay it down on the page.”

Harry had done so, filling a worrying amount of pages with all that was on his mind. She had skimmed it and found he kept repeating certain thoughts, a clear sign he was just in a spiral of overthinking.

Y/N sat down next to him and simply hugged him until the tension in his muscles dissipated and he relaxed- not completely, but enough to soothe her worries.

When they’d finally been let into the room to see an exhausted Gemma, grinning Michal and a fussy baby, Harry had been handed the baby to hold. He rocked her lightly in his arms, smiling down at her.

“You’re a girl uncle,” Y/N had said teasingly. Harry grinned nonetheless.

That had led them to this, a day after the currently unnamed baby was born. The sun had long set on the horizon, and dark flooded the streets with lamplights turned on.

“We’re adults now,” Harry whispered lowly, as to not rouse the sleeping figures in the room. He sniffled. “I can still remember being kids and climbing trees. How Gemma cleaned up my knee when I scraped it learning to ride a bike. And look at her now.”

A warmth spread in Y/N’s chest, somewhere between happiness and an indescribable satisfaction at knowing they’d made it this far. And a melancholic feeling thinking about how they used to worry about whether their parents would let them go out to the park with their friends or not. Now, they would soon become the parents themselves.

Harry sighed, and she wiped his tears away from his cheeks. Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead and said, “You’re an uncle now.”

Looking up at her as if she’d been the one to freckle the sky with stars, Harry said, “Uncle Harry. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips. “Definitely.”

“Dad would sound even better,” Harry whispered, pressing himself close to her and nuzzling his nose against her neck. “Don’t you agree?”

Eyebrows raised in light surprise, Y/N asked, “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had that soft look in his eye he always got whenever he talked about their future. “Maybe a ring on your finger before… and then a baby in your belly.”

“You’ve got baby fever,” Y/N groaned quietly, turning her head away from him. Her gaze landed on the baby again, wrapped in a light pink blanket. For a moment, she imagined that being her baby. And a rush of affection swelled in her chest, a pinch of fear tingling on her fingertips.

Fuck, maybe she had baby fever as well.

They certainly did look adorable, faces all scrunched up, skin a rosy pink and fingers all chubby.

“Is that a no?” Harry prompted quietly.

Y/N sighed as if she were exhausted by him. They both knew her every word was laced with affection, “How’d you go from crying ‘cause your sister’s a mom now to begging for a baby?”

“Marriage and a baby,” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Get your facts straight.”

Holding back a laugh, Y/N said, “Begging for marriage and a baby.” She took one good look at the man beside her, with brown curls and green eyes that looked almost a forest green in this light. “I never could say no to you.”

“That’s a yes?” Harry asked hopefully, leaning in close.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "It means be patient. We'll see how things go." She gave him a playful glare. "But we are having a wedding before a baby. Got it, Styles?"

"Got it, baby,” Harry confirmed with a grin. He knew he was going to get what he wanted. Maybe more in the future, he would spend an obscene amount of money on a Tiffany engagement ring and a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress. But for now, those plans were stowed away in Harry’s mind. They would come to fruition eventually. It was just a matter of time.

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qu1cks1lversb1tch · 2 months ago

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Astera, lounging in an armchair with a book abandoned in her lap: If I had a title that didn't directly tie me to my home court or my brother, what would it be?

Cassian, immediately: Shadowfucker

Azriel, after a few moments of contemplation: Lady of Nightmares

Cassian: That one's good. She's terrifying.

Astera, cracking an eye open to glance at Cassian: I'm not that bad, Cass

Cassian, side eyeing her: . . . Riiiiiiiighhhht

Rhysand, smirking:

Astera, with a sigh: Rhys, I swear to gods. . . If you say 'the High Lord's whore'

Rhysand: I didn't. . . Say anything. But you did, darling

Astera, regretting asking the question: Yeah, I won't be the High Lord's whore tonight

Rhysand, gaping at her: Now that's not fair

Azriel, raising an eyebrow at her: Who will you be?

Astera, casually: Shadowfucker, probably. . .

Cassian: Can. . . Can I?

Astera: Maybe

Your honor, they're so silly. I love them.

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steviewashere · 8 months ago

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Single Parent Eddie Munson who goes to a hair salon with his daughter. His daughter is thirteen and experimenting with her style for the first time and got permission to use Manic Panic in her hair. On one condition: she goes to an actual salon to get it done because Eddie does not trust her or himself to do it correctly.

Steve Harrington owns the local hair salon, just a couple blocks away from Eddie's apartment. He specializes in coloring and haircuts. He recognizes the man who enters his salon with his kiddo—Eddie Munson, three time senior, small town rocker and mechanic, who had a kid only a couple years after finally graduating. He thinks it's cute, though, what his clients want.

Eddie's daughter wants her whole head dyed red, bright cherry red. And, Eddie who doesn't want to completely dye his hair, worried about ruining the curls—he just wants a streak in his bangs to match his girlie.

Cue them becoming regular clients, trying out all the new colors they can get their hands on, Eddie with his one streak. And Steve with a heart about to explode out of his chest with adoration and...love for Eddie. It's unethical, probably, to fall in love with his client. But he won't say anything when Eddie's daughter invites him over for dinner because, "My dad won't shut up about you! Which is so annoying of him, but he hasn't been this excited about somebody in a loooonggg time. And, y'know, you're cool in my book."

And sure, when Steve and Eddie start a tentative relationship that eventually blossoms to them moved in and married—Eddie's girl takes full advantage of Steve's skills. She gets her hair done in their bathroom, Eddie on the toilet chatting away, and Steve the most content he's ever been.

Concept :) I don't know if I have the time and whatnot to write this, but if it inspires you, I'd love to read what you write.

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #single parent eddie munson #female oc #fluff #domestic steddie

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mmogurl · 4 months ago

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In The Shadow of Dragons Chapter 1: Requited Passions

18+ | 7.2k | Daemon Targaryen X Female OC | possessive, protective, objectifying, simping, raunchy Daemon | Uncle / niece incest, Smut, Dragons, Political Intrigue, Plotting, Murder, lots of old timey concepts that don't make a lot of sense today, but are still kind of hot/fun.

The second born daughter of King Viserys Targaryen, Ryna, is nine and ten years old and still unwed. Despite being surrounded by suitors, she has yet to find a man who captures her interest, and bristles at the pressure to select a husband. But a chance encounter with her enigmatic uncle, Daemon, promises to disrupt all her assumptions and to set her on a path she could never have anticipated. (Loosely set in episode 6, but Laena has already died a year prior)

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 Also on AO3

The Great Hall was bristling with celebration held in honor of Viserys’ latest grandson, Joffrey Velaryon. The massive chamber was alight with dancing shadows, decorated grandiosely with Targaryen tapestries hung where all could witness to demonstrate wealth and power. Long tables filled with the most toothsome of fine delicacies lined both sides of the throne room. Perhaps Father was trying to distract the noble assembly with pomp, away from the very obvious fact that Rhaenyra’s children were all bastards.

Numerous guests filed in with their entourages in tow, announced by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Criston Cole. Ryna grimaced at who he declared next.

“House Lannister with their lord, Jason Lannister, Lord Paramount of the West, and Master of Casterly Rock,” Cole’s voice was stout enough, but had nowhere near the authority his predecessor, Lord Harrold Westerling had in his day.

The Lannister strode at the head of his retinue, like a preening peacock adorned in so much crimson and gold that one might think he were royalty and not the hosting family.

Ryna sat sandwiched between her good-brother Laenor Velaryon and Lyonel Strong, a position that made her feel most irritable as she was not even allowed the courtesy of being placed next to her own kin. The Hand was pleasant enough, albeit mostly a stranger, but she had never grown close to Laenor given how much time he spent preoccupied with affairs outside of his marriage.

As always her father, Viserys, sat proudly next to Rhaenyra, his named heir and, one might wonder at times, favored daughter, despite how much he protested to the contrary.

When the Lannister party drew close to the high table, Lord Jason bowed before them with a flourish and as his party withdrew, he climbed the steps and approached the King.

“Congratulations, Your Grace,” he fawned in the manner only a Lannister could muster, a tone both disrespectful and servile at the same time. “Healthy babes are a worthy cause for celebration. Where is the strapping lad? I had hoped to pay my respects.”

Rhaenyra piped up this time, looking exhausted and not fully recovered from child bearing even though it had been days since Joffrey’s birth. Ryna supposed the wee babe had been keeping her awake more often than not.

“Prince Joffrey is resting. He would not tolerate staying up any longer. You know how babes are, always sleeping,” she replied, playing into Jason’s feigned deference.

It was then that the Lannister shot a glance down the table at Ryna. She tried to smile just politely enough so as not to encourage more attentions from the man, but it was without success.

“Your Grace…” he started off in that same falsely sycophantic tenor. “Has the Princess given any more thought to the courtship I proposed?”

Father looked down the table at her, leaning forward slightly so that he might see the expression on her face. Ryna’s eyes were pleading ‘No’ while trying to remain civil in the lord’s presence. Viserys’ features hardened with annoyance and he rested back into his chair.

“The Princess should be happy to consider your attentions. After all she is but ten and nine summers and still not wed,” his voice was stony and strict, markedly cross with her for shirking her duties even longer than Rhaenyra had.

Jason Lannister ruffled his feathers as he voiced appreciation to her father and stepped down the length of the table until he came to stand before her. Ryna had to choke back a smirk when the thought occurred to her that the Lannister’s sigil should be a primping cock instead of a lion, for Jason had more in common with a fowl than the fearsome and proud predator.

“Princess, I trust you will save me a dance?” he squawked and it took all she had to keep from rolling her eyes.

“I shall try, Lord Jason,” she answered with a prim smile through grit teeth. “But, I have not been feeling well. It might be something I ate.”

Father shot her an irate look and Ryna had no doubt that if they had been seated next to each other, that she would have felt his palpable frustration.

“The Princess is in good health,” Viserys said, with a snide smile. “Expect her company once the revelry starts.”

With a pompous smirk, Jason Lannister excused himself and made his way down the steps and back to the banquet. Ryna heaved a sigh, finding it difficult to hide her true feelings on this subject, despite years of learning to comport herself in the presence of refined company.

Viserys was still glaring at her, and she reckoned he might be wrathful enough to cause a row amongst guests and their kin alike.

“Ryna, draw near,” he called out and she rose from her seat and came to where he sat.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the birth of my grandchild, but unofficially, I had hoped you’d make use of the congregation of eligible lords and find a husband once and for all. Enough of this procrastination. Find a man worthy or I shall make the choice for you.” His voice was low so that the company in attendance of the great feast could not hear them.

“You would wed me to a Lannister?” she practically spat. “Just to fill the coffers with his dowry?!”

“Watch your tone with me, girl. You have heard me and I will not suffer your insolence any longer. Leave me so I might enjoy the festivities.” Viserys turned his head back to the next guests approaching the King’s table. He was done with her, his decision final.

Ryna could not help but to stomp swiftly away with a childish petulance that did not become a lady. Leaving her family behind, she slipped into the shadows of the great pillars that lined the throne room and made her way down a short corridor until she was outside in the crisp night air.

She let out a troubled sigh, wishing now that she had brought a goblet of wine with her. Ryna walked to the edge of the stone parapet and looked down at the splendor of King’s Landing in fall of the leaf. The color marking the trees was apparent even at nightfall and the sea was glittering in the moonlight just past the city’s edge. The sight made her feel both reverence and panic in equal measure, with a mounting desire to climb atop her dragon and take flight away.

Why should a princess of Valyrian blood be constrained to laws of man when she had the power to tame a dragon? She should be free to do as she longed to - to wed whom she desired, and not be forced to play along to such formal vulgarities, duty or not.

Ryna was so deep in thought that the nearby sound of a clearing throat startled her back to awareness. She turned sharply and could just barely make out the figure of a man leaning against the massive stone bricks of the castle wall behind her. Then her eyes caught the blinding billow of moonlit tresses and she knew it must be her uncle, Daemon, for no other Targaryen males yet had his height.

Daemon had returned from exile a year ago to attend to the funeral of his wife, Laena Velaryon, who had died in childbirth. Although to be more technically accurate, her dragon Vhagar had incinerated her once the baby would not come out. The end result was the same; Daemon widowed once again.

She had been closer with her uncle in the past, back before Rhaenyra’s wedding to Laenor, but her uncle had made himself scarce as of late. He spent much of his time away from King’s Landing, presumably finishing up his business in Pentos or simply behaving restlessly as Daemon was wont to do. Often she had observed his comings and goings from a distance by the sight and screech of Caraxes in the sky outside her window.

Daemon stepped forth from the shadows and approached her, yet halted at a pace’s length, his eyes roving up and down her form in keen appraisal.

He leaned in closely, his eyes of violet hooded as he whispered in a velvety, ardent tone, “My you’ve grown, niece.” His closeness and the heat of his gaze caused her cheeks to flush, and she could not help but feel a flutter in her chest.

For a moment, Ryna just stood there incredulously, unable to think of how to respond. He had never shown any interest in her before, no matter how much she had desired it. Daemon had only ever had eyes for Rhaenyra it seemed, and Ryna had always remained a child in his eyes. She had honestly forgotten those long lost unrequited desires until his simple greeting brought them all rushing back like a wave breaking hard as the tide comes in.

“Uncle,” she acknowledged him, yet scarce a word could she find in answer to his bold suggestion.

“Such beauty should never be sullied with a frown,” he continued, his demeanor charming without effort as he brushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Tell Uncle what is troubling you.”

His inquiry proved to be somewhat of a balm to her tensions, providing a welcome transition into a topic she could put words to.

“Father has given me ultimatum to choose a husband lest he choose one for me,” she pouted, her lips pursing and her eyes sullen.

“Surely it cannot be so grim, sweetling,” he reassured her smoothly and she now saw he was holding a silver chalice adorned with the the three-headed dragon, likely filled with wine. “I imagine you’d have your pick of many fine and wealthy lords.”

“I’m afraid the selection is quite lacking,” Ryna scoffed gently, feeling a fondness stir as she recalled the old pet name he’d given her in many years past. It had been some time since she had heard him utter the word, but the fact that it sounded so well when spoken by him did not escape her notice.

Daemon quickly turned her around by the shoulder, then with a firm yet gentle hand placed against the small of her back, he led her towards the balustrade. His hand remained steadfast even as they halted, and Ryna shivered involuntarily at the feel of his fingers tracing the fabric of her gown with a tender and possessive touch.

“Let me guess,” he relished with sardonic glee. “Some old and fat oaf of a lord… No doubt a widower with a dozen children?”

“That and much worse,” she scowled thinking of all of the potential suitors that had approached her father for her hand. “A Lannister so full of himself that is makes my skin crawl to think of his paws upon me.”

An easy laugh escaped Daemon’s mouth and she thought with a wry smile that many must share her disgust for the lions.

“Ah, Lannisters. What a bunch of cunts,” he chuckled condescendingly, stealing a wanton glance down her bodice. “And the rest? Are there none suitable, niece?”

Ryna pondered the question, but could not think of a single man that had caught her attention. Except for Daemon of course, but that had never been a real option, especially after his transgressions with Rhaenyra some years back. Father had tried to keep it secret, but she’d crept into the throne room upon hearing his furious yelling and had heard the entire ordeal take place between the brothers.

Even still, she could not imagine marrying anyone of plain blood. In fact, it repulsed her to think that Father would ever marry a Hightower without an ounce of Valyrian heritage. And even though her brothers were technically half Targaryen, they were both young, and while Aemond seemed sweet, Aegon was a reprehensible human being.

The answer it seemed was simple after all. “No,” she replied curtly with a rueful sigh. “There are none who please me… But, I fear Father will not be thwarted this time. He will not permit me to celebrate my twentieth nameday without a husband.”

She glanced over at her uncle and took in the almost ethereal way his pale skin glowed in the moonlight. He hadn’t changed at all, like an ageless god from the legends she’d so loved as a girl. His hair swayed against his shoulder in the slight breeze as he took a sip from his cup.

“Ah yes, sweetling, It would seem your father has you in quite the bind,” he said matching her somber tone. “No doubt he believes that time is running short. That you must fulfill your duty to the family and start producing heirs before you get much older.”

“He has been patient with me. Rhaenyra shirked her duty at first, but still acquiesced to marry at seven and ten years, but I… Well, they will be calling me an old maid soon.” She hung her head down, feeling ashamed for the way she’d behaved towards her father. He had meant well for her after all, and Ryna had done nothing but rebuke him as reward for years of lax freedom.

Daemon removed his hand from her back, sliding it gently up her arm until it came to rest below her chin. He tipped her jaw up to meet his face and she was met with a kind smile.

“Do not ever lower your head, sweetling. You are a dragon,” he said warmly, letting go so that he could sit against the stone wall beneath the balustrade. “Now, perhaps we can solve this little problem.. What would make a suitor worthy of your hand in marriage?”

She felt a hot wave of embarrassment rise within her, for she knew well the answer that rested upon her tongue, yet dared not speak the words aloud. Surely, Father would never let her have him even if she begged on her knees. Even so, Ryna didn’t see the point in lying completely. She would be honest about the qualities she sought in a partner, even if not being direct about the person whom she had in mind.

“It is important to me that my offspring remain pure. I do not wish to mix with those who are laden to the ground. That doesn’t leave me with many options,” she spoke softly, her head tilting up towards her uncle as she finished.

There was an intrigued sparkle in Daemon’s eyes as he comprehended her words and a smile wove its way across his face. “A dragon’s clutch should remain undiluted and pure, I agree. The blood of Old Valyria is powerful and should be preserved.” He hummed in approval as he wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her a touch closer. She gasped softly, unaccustomed to being so close to him.

“Tell me, little dragon. Have you never considered your uncle as a match before?” Daemon’s words cut like his sword, Dark Sister, through the cool night air.

Ryna’s lips parted as if to speak, unsure of how to proceed. He had taken the bait she’d unintentionally laid out and given he suggested it himself, the prince must be partial to the idea. But, Daemon was an enigma and she found it difficult to gage his intentions at all times.

“I have,” she said concisely. “It is the only obvious choice when it comes to such aims, but… It is… complicated.”

She saw his eyes flare, brow rising in challenge as he gripped more tightly around her waist. He placed his chalice down on the stone and drew her even closer to him. His knee wedged between her skirts to rest between her legs and her breast was now pressing indecently against his chest. It was not a position she was familiar to enduring. Ryna knew she should pull away, but Daemon had lulled her into compliance like a Dragonkeeper.

“Oh? And why is it so complicated, sweetling?” he asked with a smug grin and mock concern as he looked down at her.

Her uncle’s words snapped her out of it. How could he feign ignorance to the current situation?

“After your,” she began but found her mouth grow exceptionally dry after only two words. She turned her head to the side and brought her hand to her lips, clearing her throat before she continued. “After your exploits with Rhaenyra, Uncle… I doubt Father would consider letting us wed.”

Daemon’s gaze darkened with the mention of Rhaenyra. “Ah yes, that little indiscretion.” He said with an air of indifference that turned into an irritated smirk. “What do you know of it?”

“I overheard the two of you in the Great Hall that day. Father’s booming voice drew me in and then I stayed once I saw you lying on the floor with guards on either side. I was worried for you, but then I heard Father’s words. That you had taken Rhaenyra’s purity in some brothel… And you did not deny it.” The memory was not a fond one for Ryna. She could remember the inebriated state he’d been in as he asked her father for Rhaenyra’s hand in marriage as a result of their transgression.

“No, I did not deny it. And I did not confirm it either,” his voice was harder than usual, sterner as though upset by her knowledge of what transpired that day. “In all truth, I didn’t do much. I merely took her to a decent establishment to show her the reality of life outside the castle.”

“If you did not sully her virture, then why would you not refute such slanderous claims made against you, Uncle? Why accept exile for it… Again?” she asked furrowing her eyebrows, her hands with a mind of their own coming to rest on his shoulders.

He chuffed like a dragon, the only aspect missing was perhaps smoke escaping from his nostrils. “Why would I deny it? What would be the point?” his words were gruff. “What could I have said to convince your father that Rhaenyra was still untouched? Was I supposed to prostrate myself before him as a loyal dog to prove it?”

“You were already at his feet. Why not tell him the truth? Unless you hoped only to make him believe you besmirched her honor, just so you might wed her and recover your claim to the throne,” there was a certain amount of hurt in her voice as well as misgiving.

Ryna had never spoken to her uncle in this manner, or anyone so far her elder for that matter. But, part of her felt scorned, wronged for how much stock he had placed in Rhaenyra instead of her. She had to know what his true motivations had been and what he was capable of carrying out in order to get what he desired.

“You are treading on thin ice, little girl,” he voiced dangerously as his grip on her hips tightened. “How dare you make me out to be some incorrigible fiend. If anyone has been wronged in this whole… ordeal it has been me.”

His knee shifted a bit higher between her legs as he pulled her hips forward onto his lap, his thigh pressed firmly against her center. She whined faintly with the force of it, even through the layers of her skirts it made her core throb with unknown want.

“Iksos bona skoros ao pendagon hen issa?” he resumed in a more measured tone, his voice lower now. Is that what you think of me?- “That I only wanted Rhaenyra for the throne?”

His hands slid up her back, pulling her flush against him. Ryna’s lips pressed against the leather of his collar as he whispered in her ear, “Or do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

Was she so transparent? The very thought of him reading her so accurately made her feel about as obvious as the sun is bright. Despite Daemon’s embarrassing insinuation, it was impossible to think whilst being held in such close proximity to him. She attempted to regain her composure, but his hot breath against her ear and the way he dug into her heat with his knee was driving her mad.

“And what if I was?” she finally blurted out. “You never once glanced my way, not like you did her. I do not wish to be second best even to my own husband.” Ryna tried to make distance, attempting to push away from his chest.

Daemon wouldn’t allow it. His grip was strong and possessive, making it clear that he was not willing to let her go just yet.

“Who said you would be second best?” his words spilled out gravely, sweet, yet viscous as they fell from his lips. “Have you so easily forgotten how I used to dote on you? How I called you my little sweetling? Do you not remember how I would let you ride with me on Caraxes before you claimed your own beast?”

Ryna was taken aback by his perception of the past, not realizing that her uncle had remembered her so fondly. Perhaps she had spent too much time dwelling on inconsequential matters. She peered up at Daemon as he held her forearms tightly in front of his chest. The matter of Rhaenyra was still of some concern, but clearly she was mistaken about a great deal.

“Yes, Uncle, I do recall. And that is what made my envy all the more dire when you attempted to pursue my sister, barely noticing me as I tried to bid you welcome home. I felt you had forsaken me in favor of her.” She didn’t feel obligated to mention how desperately lonely she had felt when he was sent away once again, nor the deep sense of heartache she had experienced upon hearing about his wedding to Laena.

Dameon’s grip on her lessened and the softness now present in his features made her feel a little more relaxed. His hands caressed up her back once more as he sat down on the stone parapet and brought her fully onto his lap. Ryna’s dress protested, the skirts fighting as he pulled her knees forward to straddle him. It was an obscene, intimate position for a young maiden, but she couldn’t help be reminded of better times when she found great comfort in that same lap.

“Your envy?” he mused almost sympathetically. “Have you been pining away for me all of this time, sweetling?”

“No,” she answered abruptly, feeling the hot sting of mortification as he continued to reveal the inner yearnings of her heart.

He let out a deep, hearty chuckle as he brought a hand to her face. Long fingers traced the outline of her cheek before wrapping around her chin. She had forgotten the contentment of his affections even though the way she recieved them had been altered now that she was grown.

“No?” he echoed with mock disbelief.” He gently gripped her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at only him as he spoke harshly. “Do not attempt to deceive me, niece. You could never tell-tale when you were young, and you still lack the talent.”

Daemon’s hand released her chin, sliding it down to rest against the base of her throat. “You forget I can see right through you… I know what you’re really thinking.”

“What am I thinking then?” Her voice was not haughty, but tinged with awe as his rakish wiles seduced her into calm once more.

“You’re thinking…” he paused, bringing his hand to brush a strand of hair from her face before caressing her cheek. “You’re thinking that you would welcome my touch further. You’d welcome my affections. My attention.”

His hand slipped further down, sliding along the neckline of her bodice he drew a finger against the top of her breast. “You’d welcome more than that. You want so much more than that. No matter how you pretend otherwise.”

Ryna’s breath stuttered out disjointedly, her chest heaving not just from his capricious words, but the unfamiliar touch of his hand at the swell of her breast. It was not at all unpleasant, but it was unseemly. The sounds of the banquet carried on from inside, but nobody had disturbed their solitude yet. She would venture an allowance, just this once.

“And what do you want, Uncle?” Ryna gazed at him, entranced at being the object of his focus after having been starved of it for so long.

As Daemon looked into her eyes, his expression darkened with what appeared to be lust and longing. His palm lowered over the curve of her breast, cupping her soft mound gently as he leaned his forehead against hers. A low whimper struck against Ryna’s closed mouth as his fingers grazed lightly down her bust, traveling over her ribcage and then rounding to her hips.

“Nyke jaelagon ao, jorrāelagon mēre,” he purred deeply. I want you, dear one- His lips brushed against hers as though trying to lure them open. “I’ve always wanted you, but thought it too wicked, even for the likes of me, to tarnish you with my degeneracy.”

His hands slid around to the small of her back, pulling her closer with a satisfied grunt. “But, now that I know you’ve been hungering for me, sweetling, I’m beginning to think… that you’ve always been mine. That I’ve wasted so much time hiding from the truth.”

She could feel the heat of his breath upon her face, coaxing her so enticingly into his thrall. Her lips parted to release a quiet breath, but before the air had fully escaped her mouth, Daemon sealed them with a kiss. Even though she had never kissed a man, she was consumed by his fiery passion. She closed her eyes, her fingers wrapping around his back as she whispered hushed, sultry mewls against his lips.

His tongue swept her lower lip, teasing at her mouth until she yielded to him and allowed entrance. The kiss was urgent and demanding, filled with untold desire she’d only read about in old tales of Valyrian mythology. One of Daemon’s hands roamed to the exposed skin at her right knee, bunching the fabric up higher and groaning as his fingers felt the bare skin of her thighs. His lips tasted of Westerosi strongwine and spices, his tongue plundering her mouth as though it were an indulgent ambrosia all its own.

“I should stop before I go too far, sweetling,” he groaned, tearing his mouth away as he regarded her. “I don’t want to ruin you out here in the open… Or at least I do not wish to get caught doing so.” A wicked smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, but the yearning was still present in his eyes.

Ryna fussed at the loss of his sweet kiss, an aching throb now coursing throughout her entire core. Lost in the affections she’d always wanted, she could not possibly think to stop now.

“No, please,” she pleaded without meaning to. The words were barely a soft gasp against his neck as her lips found the pulse of his throat and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

Daemon chuckled at her protestations, leaning his forehead against hers again. It was a simple gesture he had always used in the past to ease her distress, although there was an entirely new meaning to it now, it still made her feel at peace in much the same way.

“What will people say if they see us?” he whispered with feigned anxiety, his hot breath skimming against her dampened lips. “A wicked prince spoiling a young innocent maiden with his turpitude. What sort of debauchery is this?”

Her uncle’s words were laced with a sense of mockery, but she knew he spoke true. She sighed and kissed him once more, making sure to keep it brief lest she become unable to refrain from continuing. Ryna slipped off his lap, feeling her senses slowly return to her. She glanced at the glowing light coming from the hall and exhaled with relief when there was nobody present to see their misconduct.

She smoothed her skirts so that they were not so unkempt and tucked away any loose strands of hair back against her scalp. Daemon took his time in rising from his seat on the parapet, adjusting the front of his trousers slightly as he did so.

“You should return to the party,” his voice was rough with lust and did not sound pleased by the prospect. “At least for now we should keep up appearances. For now…”

“And what of our earlier conversation?” she asked almost demurely, with a submissive tone she was not frequently used to employing. “What of Father’s ultimatum?”

Daemon took a few steps forward, crowding into her as he rested his hands firmly at her waist. “I won’t suffer any suitor but myself to claim you,” he hissed possessively. “Especially not some timid lordling whose ineptitude would bring your heart naught but bitterness, my sweetling.”

Ryna couldn’t help but smile with the ornery way he insisted no other man should wed her, but it would still be difficult to convince Father to allow it.

“How shall we persuade my father that you are worthy than, Uncle?” she peered up at him, her fingers gently clutching the sleeves of his doublet.

“Worthy,” Daemon said with a scoff. “I have the blood of Old Valyria. I am the Prince of the City. I am a dragon, little niece.” He let his hands slide around to her back, gripping her hips greedily. With a swift tug, he yanked her flush against his chest and whispered quietly in her ear. “Name another who is more worthy?”

Gods, he was too good at this. With barely his low trill in her ear, Ryna’s knees felt weak.

“I do not question your value, Daemon. There is no better match in my eyes,” she placed her small hands on his chest and pushed him back so she might look upon him face to face. “But I fear Father will think the worst of your intentions.”

He let out a gruff chuckle at that, a knowing smile spreading wickedly as he tilted his head. “Intentions?” he mused with thick sarcasm. “Yes, how horrible it would be to bed, wed, and impregnate his sweet innocent darling daughter. I’m sure the thought of the latter will be a dagger to his heart.”

“I am speaking in all earnestness, Uncle,” she ruffled, her lower lip pouting out at his jest. “He will think you wish to claim the throne by way of wedding me.”

Daemon chuffed, clearly amused by her petulant scolding. “So, my brother thinks me a scheming opportunist, does he?” With a shrug he dismissed the notion, yet added, “Well, he isn’t wrong.”

A wolfish smirk pulled at his lips as he leaned his head down to her ear once more. “Although, if the throne comes to me as a result of seeding your belly with my babe, my sweet niece, then I certainly won’t complain.”

“You are awful…” she scoffed with disbelief, making space between them again. “How can you not take this seriously? I don’t want you to be sent away again. You know you should renounce any claim to the throne.” Her pale lilac eyes grew wide, peering at him with thinly veiled worry and beginning to gleam as tears threatened to come.

He clenched his jaw at the mention of relinquishing the Iron Throne. “Daor. Nyke jāhor daor,” he growled. No. I will not.- “Do not ask me to lie down like a whipped dog. And do not bring tears to your eyes in an attempt to soften me.” Daemon’s eyes remained cold as they narrowed at her, the fondness all but gone from his voice as he continued.

“I have spent my entire life living to the expectations of others. I will follow the path I know I am destined for.” He gripped her chin roughly, forcing her to look up at him and meet his gaze. “I will claim what is mine by right, and you will be a part of it whether you wish it or not, little niece.”

Ryna attempted to speak, but he stopped her by placing a single finger over her lips.

“You have made it clear that you are mine. You will do as I say. You will wed me and stand at my side when I ascend to the throne. Those are the only outcomes I will accept,” he ordered sternly. “And to ensure it, I will have to use any means necessary. If that includes ruining your innocence to ensure you do not wed another… So be it.”

There was a palpable tension in the air between them. She wished to have the sweet man she had shared her first kiss with back and not the tyrant that stood before her. But, Ryna understood his ambitions, just as everyone in their family did. She knew she had touched upon a sensitive subject, perhaps too insistently, and now regretted digging into a wound that ran exceptionally deep.

Most distressing of all, was that she believed his purpose to be true, even though the thought of what lengths he might have to go to achieve it sometimes haunted her. Now, he might not even trust that she had any faith in him or his calling at all.

“I am grieved,” she replied with a quiet whisper. “I did not mean to say that you should not seek the throne, Uncle, but use it as pretense so that Father lets his guard down. He knows you want it and he does not wish you to have it.”

The truth of it was that between Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Hightower half-blood mongrels, the pairing she’d make together with Daemon would have the strongest claim to the throne. If something were to happen to Rhaenyra, the throne would pass to Ryna, but the realm was still not wont to have even a Targaryen Queen rule over it. If she wed Daemon though, then there would be no question of a higher authority. She had no desire to rule and would pass it to her uncle gladly.

His grip on her chin faltered, the anger leaving his voice and replaced by a tired sigh. “My sweetling, you know not how difficult it has been for me to restrain myself for all these years. You have grown more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” He spoke low and deliberate as he gently brushed along the line of her jaw. “It was a challenge unto itself, not to ravish you the moment you became a woman, but I was certain your father would geld me for it.”

She could not help but laugh at his admission, although Father had certainly not opted to castrate her uncle for his supposed transgression with Rhaenyra.

“You laugh but only I know how it felt to resist you day after day, year after year,” he growled, voice husky with need. “I was tempted on so many occassions to claim you as my own, to steal you away to Dragonstone and keep you there.”

He leaned closer, burying his nose in her platinum tresses and inhaling deeply of her scent. “And now you’ve left yourself vulnerable, sweetling. Now that I know you want me as much as I desire you… There is nothing that can keep me away.”

“Not even the King,” he added with a huff, his lips moving to trail the smooth skin along her neckline.

She was not sure how to reply to such conviction, especially when it concerned her father. Ryna did not wish ill of him, but then she was sure Daemon would not hurt his own brother. Well, mostly certain at least.

Daemon must have sensed her hesitation, for he murmured softly against her temple. “Let me handle your father, my sweet little niece… Just focus on being my good girl, alright?” His grip was firm, but tender on her shoulders as he pushed himself away from her. “Now, you must head back, before anyone comes. I wouldn’t be surprised if Viserys hasn’t had the servants upturning the keep for you by now,” he chuckled wryly and pressed a kiss against her forehead before disengaging from her completely.

As he released her, Ryna suddenly felt an unbearable emptiness. His lips left her skin feeling warm and wanting more, but he was already taking steps away from her, retrieving his chalice from the surface of the parapet. The tone of his voice told her he would brook no disagreement in this and she knew it would be for the best that she return.

“Return to the celebration, sweetling,” he said with his back to her as he looked out over the city. “And do not worry your pretty little mind of all this. I will take care of your father. You have my word.”

Ryna had so wished to ask him if he would dance with her this evening, but soon realized something as she turned and headed back inside. That once they were wed there would be a week-long celebration and she would have as many chances to dance with her uncle as she liked.

She paused for a moment as she stood in the flickering shadows of the hallway that led back to the Great Hall. Ryna had seen it clear as day when she was only but ten and two years old. She did not understand what it meant, but had spent weeks combing the library for information trying to understand it with no answers to be found.

She’d had a strange daydream or perhaps a vision. In it, Ryna had seen a beautiful young woman with flowing silver-gold hair standing beside her uncle Daemon as he sat upon the Iron Throne.

It had befuddled her for years until finally she began to mature, her skinny, tomboyish body blossoming outwards like the petals of a flower. And, one day she looked in her hand mirror and realized that the woman she’d seen, was none other than herself.

It did naught but break her heart when she then found out that his affections, nay his ambitions, laid with Rhaenyra. And, she’d forced herself to tuck that long lost song of what might come to pass away, when she heard Laena gave birth to twins. Ryna locked it all tightly, somewhere she might never think of it again.

And yet now, it might all be coming to pass regardless. She didn’t know whether she should be excited or aghast at what might happen in the coming months.

She stepped into the Great Hall and was pleased to see that most every guest had imbibed much of her father’s generosity since her departure. Nobody seemed to take notice of her as she walked through the crowd aside from Ser Criston Cole who eyed her wearily. She cared little for the man, thinking him a miscreant since observing him beat a man to death at Rhaenyra’s wedding. Ryna wondered how it was he still held such an esteemed post regardless.

Heading right up to the King’s table, she was not surprised to see that most everyone had abandoned her father as they always tended to do once a banquet got underway. He sat alone in his chair without a soul to even pour his wine. Ryna lamented how lonely he appeared. The most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms and here he sat deep in his drink and completely alone.

Father’s eyes brightened as he saw her, a slur in his voice, “Daughter! I was wondering where you ran off to. Come and pour your father another.”

“Do you think it wise, Father?” she asked with a playful tone, knowing he would not be denied despite her pestering.

“Your King demands it, girl,” he jested with a smile and she obediently filled his cup.

“I’m sorry, Father,” she apologized, her voice demure and meek in an attempt to show him the deference he deserved, not just as her King, but as her forebear.

He waved a hand, scoffing as though it mattered not. “I should bid you apology, my child. For suggesting you dance with that Lannister fellow. He is truly insufferable.” Father’s eyes grew wide with joy as he let out a boisterous laugh and she could not help but join in the royal ribbing of Jason Lannister.

“But you still must choose a husband, Ryna,” he said somberly, the mirth still poking at the edge of his words.

“I know,” she replied with a smile, trying to show her appreciation for the years of independence he’d allowed her. “I will perform my duty for you and the realm, Father.”

“That’s my good girl. Disobedience never suited you,” he took a long swig from his ornate chalice. “Besides, I have all that I can handle of that with Rhaenyra,” he quipped with a chuckle and quick raise of his brow. “Now leave me, child. I have wont to pass swiftly from drink to slumber tonight.”

“Good evening, Father,” she bowed her head to him slightly and turned to give him the space he desired.

She glanced around the hall looking for a certain blond uncle, but did not catch sight of him. Perhaps he was being cautious by not being seen together with her in front of the masses gathered for the celebration. It was an intelligent idea that she thought she would abide by as well for now. After all, she’d had enough excitement for one night.

Ryna nodded at several lords and ladies she know of, but barely knew as she retired from the banquet hall. The path to her chambers was quiet and uneventful and after minimal effort undressing, she soon found herself comfortably lying in her bed, ensconced in plush blankets.

Thoughts swirled of the moments she’d shared with Daemon on the balcony. Ryna could still taste him upon her lips and feel his hands upon her body. As though attempting to reprise the memory, she ran her fingers gently over her breast in much the same way he had. It was too much to bear. She clenched her thighs together and turned harshly on her side with a squeal of flustered arousal.

She tried to clear her mind of lustful thoughts and peered out the window at the high moon. Would Daemon be able to convince Father that he would be a worthy suitor? Truly there was no better man in terms of Valyrian descent, but her father had been so angry with her uncle, so many times over the years. She worried he might not be able to let it go.

Given all that had occurred and the pressing marital matters at hand, she’d thought it might be difficult to sleep, but surprisingly it found her quickly.

Notes: This was the longest chapter I have ever written! I could not stop - a woman possessed!

So, I know this is not entirely necessary, but I thought I would write up a little post-chapter introduction to explain some of the setting I’ve chosen for this story.. And why I decided to make these choices.

I wanted the OC to be young, but not too young as it wouldn’t make sense that she would remain unmarried if allowed to get too old. I also did not want such a huge gap of time to pass after Rhaenyra and Laenor’s wedding. Ten years is such a huge amount of time, and I wanted the OC to have been within a comparable age to Rhaenyra when she last sees Daemon.

Now, with that in mind, the timeline of the show is also very confusing when you compare it against the timelines on the wiki, which is based on lore. There is an understanding of an approximate amount of time that has gone by on the show, but even when using those estimations, the years don’t come close to the dates on the wiki. I know I shouldn’t focus on such trivial matters, but it did in fact bother me while planning my own outline. I decided that I would base it more loosely off the official lore dates of events and ages of characters, and not the show's. This is something you may or may not notice, but it is worth mentioning. Any changes made are not necessarily for lack of being informed about it, they are just conscious changes.

One glaring issue is the birth of Rhaenyra’s first three children.. All of which are born in pretty quick succession, 115 AC, 116, AC and then 117 AC. That means that technically, this fic should be starting in 117 AC.. Only 4 years after the events of Rhaenyra’s wedding to Laenor (114AC). And Baela and Rhaena were born in 116 AC, which certainly causes some difficulty in lining these dates up with the show. Laena dies in 120 AC and yet her children look much older than 4 and the same can be said for Rhaenyra’s as well.

So, I’ve decided after much deliberation, that Joffrey’s birth will take place in 119AC instead of 117AC, meaning that instead of 10 years, only about 5 years have passed since the wedding. And Laena’s death will be moved to 118AC, 2 years earlier than in the lore, and much earlier in the show. I think if you add the time skips together.. That the (10 years later) jump that occurs ends up being about 126AC which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, except for the fact that they’re likely trying to line things up for the Dance of the Dragons, but the timing still feels off.

I also wanted to say that I had several starting points in mind for this story, but this was the one I just happened to like the most in terms of the timeline and how close it is to Viserys’ death and all the major events that take place afterwards! So please enjoy, and I do hope I can capture the tone and feel of the show and characters without stepping on my own feet too much. I have never attempted to write a story in this time period or style, so I guess we’ll see how it goes. Expect some growing pains until I’m more practiced and do not judge me too harshly.

Another thing worth mentioning is that I wrote the first chapter in a rather obsessive flurry that lasted most of one day and all of a night. Suffice it to say, it slipped my mind to add in the High Valyrian, given how much I had my hands full with grasping a more Shakespearean take on English. I will likely add placeholder Valyrian in, so that it does not hold me up too much as I write. When finished, I’ll take the time to research how to make it more accurate. So don’t worry too much if you do happen to know High Valyrian and find any glaring errors.

But! Please DO tell me what you thought! Also.. Yes, there will be a lot more. This is planned to be a rather big story... Read Chapter 2 here.

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eternalbright-star · 6 months ago

Text

nsfw. Yan!Duchess x Fem!Knight!Reader

So what if she's a duchess? It doesn't change the fact she fucks you good and hard :3

"What did the Crown Prince want to talk to you about?" She asked, watching her wine move as she swirled the glass around.

No response.

"Oh right... It's because your mouth is stuffed full with my cock... Do you think that Prince will give you the same amount of pleasure that I give you, slut?" Manicured finger nails hold your chin, mouth stuffed with her cock and cheeks stained with tears as you knelt in front of her, naked.

"...Speak, puppy." She says, smooth voice calm and collected despite the situation.

"No master... Only you can give me pleasure... I'm all yours to claim, master..." Pink lips jut out into a pout as you hugged leg, looking up at her with glossy eyes, despite your stature and muscles, she finds it very endearing how you never fail to look so cute. Scars and all.

She smiled down at you, a chuckle escaping her lips as she caressed your face with the back of her hand, watching as you leaned into her touch.

"You're just so cute... I can never get angry at you..." But it doesn't mean she can't get angry at the Prince for getting close to what's hers, even after she had already staked her claim on the female to the Prince.

"Come. Ride your Master's cock." Standing up, you hover over her strap on, lining up the tip to your awaiting hole, slowly pushing her cock into you, even after having been fucked with her cock before, you always needed a minute to adjust, so she would soothe you by rubbing your thighs, whispering sweet nothings into your ears as her fingers traced patterns on your back.

"You're doing so well for me... taking your masters cock so nicely like the good girl you are..." She held your hips, guiding you up and down her cock.

She watched as you lost yourself to riding her cock, loving how your cheeks are flushed, eyes closed as you focused on the sensation of her filling your walls and hair a mess.

She loved watching you chase your high, it's just something about you being so submissive and compliant in her presence has her hiding her sly smile behind her wine glass, taking a sip as she enjoyed the show in front of her.

At least now, she'll take it easy and pamper you before she has a word with the Crowned Prince tomorrow.

#Yandere #Yandere oc #Female yandere #Female oc #Original character #yandere smut #smut #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #stars writing🌟

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roxineedstosleep · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do platonic batfam with a male reader who is like Hunter from the owl house

Imagine having a manipulator uncle and is a clone of someone

Clones have no personality.

Not at least in the interim of their realization.

At the beginning they know what they want and that, then, when they interact with a more real world they realize that they are nothing and at the same time they are someone.

The emptiness that comes with realization, anger, loss, parendiza and acceptance are things that take time. They take time, tears, reproaches, rejections, acceptances, cries, screams, health and so many other things.

Conner surely understands what the reader is going through, he knows what it means to be someone's clone and not knowing what else to do for oneself.

Conner didn't know he could be himself until he stopped trying with Clark.

The reader… well.

Being Dick Grayson's clone wasn't something you'd like to have known.

Worse yet… meeting Dick and then the whole family was even worse.

You no longer knew if your affections, hobbies, likes and dislikes were a macabre work of genetics or because that's what you'd really be if you weren't a clone.

You were- are? soooo much like Richard.

But at the same time you were so different. His dark light skin was like a beautiful bronze compared to your uneven brown skin. It looked like your hair waves were hideous compared to his perfectly wavy hair. His eyes were the perfect shade of blue, well-place mole on the chick, his voice was more enchanting than yours.

Every time you saw him more and more, you felt as you looked in the mirror something about your appearance warp into an eternally striking malformation.

Your nails or your fingers didn't seem to be straight, your teeth were getting bigger and twisted(?), your hair was not manageable, your skin started to get more pimples or pores… nothing seemed to have an end.

You were too young to even be considered Dick's twin, at best, like Damian, you could be considered his younger brother… his son? To old for that?

Well, like Conner, someone had to have given the egg for that cloning thing to work.

That wasn't the point.

The point was that you were everything Richard wasn't. You never would be and never would become.

You didn't have the strength or the agility or the courage or the chutzpah.

When Bruce found you, it was as if he had stopped time and locked you in the Batmobile until Zantana and others came to see what they should do with you. You were just looking for the quickest way to buy candy. A simple detour around a corner and all of a sudden you were being pecked and bewitched by a bunch of people in tights who wouldn't stop asking you questions or wanting to get inside your head.

Your only mistake was scape from the orphanage for candy.

When the spells failed, when the manipulations came to nothing and when everything looked like it was going to end with you ten feet underground behind a ditch… they resigned themselves to completing the last box in the "kidnap a civilian" kit: they had to see if you were a fucking clone.

Bruce didn't even think of Dick as a possible cloning victim in the first place.

You didn't look like him… not in the right way. At least from Bruce's perspective; being the genius detective that he was.

Bruce had just squeezed the wheel of possibilities with the DNA of everyone registered in the Watchover system… the genetic co-incidence was just that.

A fucking co-incidence.

And Dick, he had the terrible luck to show up as a match. But even with that proff he did not believe it.

You, you couldn't be a clone, you had to be something else. Didn't you?

Your son? a mistake from the past?

No.

You were just the result of a crazy ex-girlfriend, an idiot Dick and a test tube.

They took you with them. You couldn't walk around without anyone watching you. Besides, a mansion was better than a low-security orphanage. Wasn't it?

But it didn't help any.

To them, to Dick himself, you were just a token that everyone was replaceable.

Bruce wanted to test if you were trainable to be Robin, but you could barely run without dying in the attempt. It didn't matter how many days you stayed in training or fighting.

Nothing worked.

Your belly was visible, your fatigue was or seemed chronic (some cloning error?), your appearance definitely resembled Dick but not in the right way. Or at least that's how you began to perceive it over time. As they, the Waynes, used to constantly emphasise to you.

Sometimes you could stand for hours in front of the mirror wondering if you were really a clone or if the machine had broken down.

And just as your relationship with your image began to deteriorate… the relationship with the members of the house didn't even seem to get off to a good start.

Damian didn't know how to treat you, Jason definitely looked at you with pity, Tim watched you like a lab rat, Alfred and Bruce tried to make up for all their faults with you.

Dick… Dick, like Clark, didn't want anything to do with you or relate to you.

At the beginning he tried. I mean, one of his best friends is a fucking clone, who was fiercely rejected by the person who should be his family. Wouldn't it be hypocritical of him to reject you?

But it was no use. The few times you did hang out together it was clearly awkward for both of you. And even if anyone asked how you were related, Dick was quick to reject any connection.

"He's a friend's cousin, I babysit." "Oh, a co-worker's son." "He's one of the Wayne Foundation kids."

Over time Dick really emphasised that he wanted nothing to do with you, or to know about you or even to consider accepting your existence. He pulled away, with different excuses or reasons to the point where there was no reason why they should relate to each other.

So, seeing that nothing could ever be the same again… you decided to take the next step.

Clearly they didn't want to see you. They didn't want to relate to you.

Dick was, much to your consternation considering that he even never get you a proper ID, your legal guardian, but even he didn't make a big deal out of it.

Damian wouldn't give you the time of day, Alfred and Bruce were always busy, Jason for clear reasons didn't want to be there, and Tim had a purely clinical interest in your existence.

Why be with them? Well, you needed a roof over your head, yes, but other than that there was no reason why you should waste your time and effort wanting to be there.

You were taken off the streets almost as an adult, you could see your way to entertain yourself until you could get out of there. You didn't have the same pressure as they did with public image, you didn't have to go to galas or society balls.

So, you looked for other ways to entertain yourself.

First it was sports, but you sucked. Really sucked.

The arts didn't seem to be your thing, even if you tried.

Dancing was also out of the question and singing, even though you weren't terrible, wouldn't bring you any kind of personal satisfaction.

That's when the clandestine outings came in.

You drank, you tried drugs, you did whatever it took to get out of the Wayne family's sight for more than a day.

There were bad experiences, definitely, but it seemed like life wanted to somehow make it up to you for everything it put you through.

Before long, you found relatively decent people.

People who, in the worst situations, you wouldn't hesitate to ask for help.

There were even times when you would spend up to a month or more away from the family home and never get a call or message about your whereabouts.

Before you knew it, the years passed and you had turned 18… or at least you could say so considering you were a fucking clone.

Months away from the Wayne's, calculating that time away from home, I'd say it was a total of 2 cumulative years that you were away.

And you were happy in those months far from the Wayne mansion. You had two good friends, who were in and out of drugs just like you. They would meet in a small, ramshackle studio and eat and get a job to survive together. When the going got tough, you'd rush back so your buddies could make ends meet.

Sometimes you would even send them some food and old clothes that everyone in the house was reluctant to throw away.

Many of your clothes were, ironically, things that others had left behind. Not because you didn't have clothes of your own, but it was easier to finish wearing worn out clothes than to wear something new that you could wear later.

But that wasn't the point.

You didn't know anything about the Waynes at that time, and they didn't know anything about you.

And that seemed to work just as well for them.

Worked perfectly for you as well.

You didn't have to deal with them, they didn't have to deal with you. Wasn't that the best thing?

If you came back alive, with tattered clothes and calloused hands, they wouldn't say go. It didn't matter if you'd spent most of the winter sleeping without heat or if you moved the bathtub into the living room to avoid flooding the floor during the rainy season.

You were invisible to them. And you were happy about it.

But, like everything else in life, nothing seemed to be enough, everything seemed like a sick joke and no matter what you did, you always ended up in the same mental hole that kept you from moving on.

You don't even know how the fuck you ended up like that.

It was just a party, a private fucking party with your two best friends. Jackovy had brought a new sour candy (real sugar tasty candy) to try, Luz brought her own special drinks. You had gone out of your way to make spicy mac and cheese that had just the right amount of creamy yet tangy cheese. What was the worst that could happen?

A fucking Joker bomb, half a block from Jackovy's ramshackle building, that's what. Just as the three of you were halfway through dinner, ordering takeout for something sweet for dessert…. a stinking bomb shattered the front windows to the street and Jackovy jumped on you to get you out of the place.

Without thinking too much you grabbed Luz by the arm, and both of you held on to Jackovy's large figure to escape from the building that was collapsing second by second. As soon as Jackovy put one foot out into the street, the whole building collapsed and you pushed him and Luz as far away from the collapse as you could, they pulled you in time, but your leg got caught in some of the debris.

You didn't want to see it, you didn't need to see it, but that leg was definitely broken. You didn't know the severity, but from what Luz was shouting in her native language and the insults your other friend was hurling you knew that a bandage wasn't enough.

Clearly, as if it were a bad joke, because the Joker really was a lousy comedian, it wasn't long before Gordon and a member of your family arrived at the scene of the crime.

It seemed so strange to you, so weird.

They really were good at acting their double persona. I mean, you never saw Dick be gentle with you before. Not when you broke your arm after trying to climb the chandelier like he once did. Not when Bruce yelled at you until he was hoarse because he couldn't do gymnastics.

You never saw Bruce act carefully when pulling out the debris. You didn't feel Dick's desperate way of calling a paramedic like fake.

But, it didn't matter.

Really, if you didn't get over that everyone in the family had taken acting classes you could believe a little bit about their acting.

Really, omitting all the obnoxious disinterest you had in them, you could say they were worthy of an Oscar for best acting or at least they were too professional to care whether you were the forgotten clone in the house or not.

As soon as one of the two wanted to get into the ambulance with you, you shouted Luz and Jackovy's name for them to follow you. The paramedics didn't know what to do, but there wasn't much to say about it either.

"Only family members or couples can join-"

"Jackovy is his husband" Luz had shouted, noticing how you were trying to run away from the nurses' restraints " Besides he always use his husband's"

"A child can't be an adult's boyfriend-" Dick had tried to say, frightened looking at Jackovy, who definitely looked to be at least about 27 years old. His prominent beard and his height and musculature really made him look old, how funny that he was only a couple of years older than you or Luz.

His unfriendly face didn't help the current situation either, but that didn't matter. The point was that Jackovy had health insurance in his name, so why did the technicalities of the safe age of consent matter now?

"I'm 23, his MY husband, he's coming with me" You interrupted.

The opinion of two men in dark spandex didn't matter anyway. You're married? Perfect, the husband has more right to be with you in the ambulance.

Your friend stuck around while Luz stayed behind to see if anything could be salvaged from the wrecked apartment.

Neither you nor Jackovy or Luz felt sorry for the place, it didn't belong to either of you, it was just an old building used as a game room. But, some things were of sentimental value.

If they could be salvaged it was worth a try. Also, probably many of the drugs were there. Was a better option to clean it before the police started to seek there.

Getting to the hospital and getting your leg fixed was easy. Making sure the fake marriage paperwork and the fake ID Jackovy had gotten for you passed as real was the tricky part.

You and Luz had done a perfect job in creating all the false documentation in order to generate a fake ID.

Better job of adding a little more age to you.

They knew your ID was functional, as you had even been able to get your friend out of the police lockup on a couple of occasions.

But the fake marriage paperwork they weren't sure about. those were, in a better word, almost new. Not even more than a week.

They would not have been created had it not been for your friend's last minute idea to be covered in this way. Jackovy did it expontanea.

It was fraud that paper, not that your ID was any less fraud than that certificate, but at least you only had one ID.

Jackovy had several marriage certificates with different people's names on them. Some for a greencard, others like you, who needed to be able to use health insurance.

But the paper passed as valid, Jackovy's insurance cover most of the expenses and now you could get some rest before you could leave for Luz's now truly owned apartment.

The bad joints, at the end of the day, had ensured that you didn't lose the money you had saved… but for some reason had lured a falsely concerned family into the hallway outside the room you temporarily had in the hospital.

What the fuck were they doing there?

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