#get amber heard fired

[onesaltysir]

Tfw you remember your ex friend and you randomly check their blog to see if they got better but they in fact got worse

[yandere-wishes]

˖ ࣪⊹𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞/𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐜𝐞 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⸸ Yandere! Capitano x reader

༒︎ Summary: He's the ice bearer, the monster sent to snuff out the flames of your homeland. But isn't that just love? To kill with such passion. Wouldn't anything else just be a lie?

🗡Warnings: Yandere behavior, blood, and gore, reader has a pyro vision and wields a claymore

𓌜 author's note: I made some Girlypop Capitano edits to sorta fit the vibe: One & Two

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪⭑ ๋࣭

Do you love me? Or do you love how I make you feel?

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪⭑ ๋࣭

Kachina is lost

She does not emerge from the scared flame

Nor does her ancient name echo across the skies.

Life stills, death looms.

light wanes, darkness reaches.

The glow of the sacred flame burns your eyes.

It's ambers whispering grime truths.

"I volunteer to go, too. You'll need all the help you can get."

Mavuika's flame mane rasps across her shoulders as she shakes her head. Lips taut in thought, sepia brows furled in eccentric fret. You've yet to see this shade of worry painted across your archon's face.

"I can't afford to excuse you, especially now that I fear my powers are dwindling. I need someone to have my back. Besides I'm sure the champians can handle it."

Duty first, that's the oath of the Princesses of Flame. Guard the archon with your life, protect her through any means necessary.

You force your head into a sharp nod.

The chill in the stadium air sends a nervous tang rippling through your spine. You've heard the Wayob speak of this sort of frost before. This all encompassing thing.

His boots grace the stadium floor with all the grace of falling stars. Ethereal armor glows in the soft roar of dancing flames. Icicles in dawn's first light.

The tall figure tilts his armor-clad head up at the archon's perch, with impertinence. You almost swear you hear a chuckle of mockery chime from the inside of his helmet.

"Pyro Archon" he speaks, voice distant and distorted, ice on ice through hail storms. The chill glides across your body again, how can one man be so cold? Shouldn't the cold be a sweet thing? Relief from harsh suns and harsher fires?

"Since the oath made five centuries ago remains unfulfilled, what use is the gnosis in your hands?"

He is all ice. But not the sugar-laced ice cubes that float leisurely in spiced cacao milk. No. He is the harsh verglas only spoken of in hushed tones around grisly campfires. The ice that leaves plains frozen and destroyed. It kills all things warm, all things that breathe.

There is a chill in the air.

It penetrates the skin and nests between the bones.

subconsciously you run your fingers across your neck.

"I challenge you for the gnosis, for the right over Natlan's rules" He shrugs off the heavy cape, the multilayered garment with too much wool and heat.

Strange, strange thing.

It amazes you how he hasn't melted from wearing such stout apparel in such smoldering climate. He tosses it to the side careful to never ripe the precious fabric.

"Fight, or summon your champion"

Your hand rests heavily on Mavuika's shoulder. Eyes transfixed in a silent plea.

The people need their Archon.

Natlan needs its Archon.

Besides this is your duty.

Mavuika nods.

Red eyes never once straying from the intruder.

Vicious sparks flicker across your palm. Like sparking a match across dried bark. You feel the inforno's kiss licking past your skin, weaving into the bone, as your weapon materializes. Your fingers ring across the worn, burnt handle of your loyal armament.

"I shall fight you fatui, for the honor and glory of Natlan and the Pyro Archon."

He watches you through the mask, through the ebony darkness that shields his mysterious visage. He reminds you of how Saurians watch their prey. Weighing each tiny breath, tasting each heartbeat through the air. He looks nothing less than regally monstrous.

Like death, doom, and despair.

You've tasted this before, engraved the bitterness upon your tongue, and honed your body to fight it. He will not take Natlan, he will not condemn your home to his cold.

The weight of your claymore pulls you down. Plunging into hard rock. You watch as he bats the dust with his hand. Gloved and armoured. What is he hiding? You wonder. What man truly needs so many layers? Armor, ice, frost, steel, wool. You long to peel them away, desperate to find something human underneath. Something squishy and worm. You want to feel his heartbeath between your teeth. Drink from his warm blood and relish in the sweet aftertaste. A testament to how you conquered the cold.

You've never seen someone so eager to be hidden in layers up layers.

Snow on ice.

Ice on iron.

"You're awfully young to take on such a big responsibility little girl"

his voice makes you shiver, you can almost taste his ice on your tongue.

Bitter, like barbwire and salt.

"Don't mock me Fatui" You warn, molding your body into a battle stance, knees folded almost kissing the stadium floor, weapon clasped with both hands. Eyes on the target.

Just like Mavuika taught you.

Just like you taught Kachina.

You can feel the heat from your vision coursing through your body, cracking your bones and mingling with marrow. You wait, just one more breath. You use the pyro blessing to project yourself through the air, like an arrow aimed straight for the man made of ice and lies. Swinging your claymore, ready to dent his helmet - and hopefully his head inside-  but he blocks it with his glacier sword. Just a thin dainty thing, capable of quelling your inferno-laced colossus.

Capitano advances, with a flick of his sword he pushes you back. Your heart hammers wildly, someone so skilled so strong, it's almost a shame he can never compete in the pilgrimage. That he can never be on your side.

You use the momentum of his push to frontflip through the foggy air. You land squarely on his wide shoulders, digging your foot into his trapezius muscle, while your knee scrapes his other shoulder for balance. You swing your claymore once more, trying to strike his head off. But to your shock, he parries it with the back of his rime gauntlets.

You keep pushing trying to slice through ice, armor, flesh, anything. Yet everything about this man seems to be made of inviolable steel adorned with everlasting cyro. For a second the metal of his helmet kisses the inside of your thighs. There is no shame in battle, no flirting with the opponent. There are only two bodies entwined until death and defeat. Until one rises and one falls. Still, there's something about the way his black face, regards yours that has a shy blush creeping on the hollows of your cheeks. The man, no this formidable monster is far too close, it's almost as if he's longing for a kiss. You leap back, whispering patronymic blessing to the Archon when your feet meet solid rock once more.

"You fight well little girl, but your attacks are careless, loose. You can not defeat opponents if you can not penetrate their defenses."

He dashes, so quickly you almost think he's flickering between the ground and air. You feel his familiar cold before, you feel the hilt of his sword nestle into your abdomen. He leans forward, helmet sending frostbite through the side of your head "You smell so sweet, like the roses of Snezhnaya". Capitan thrusts his sword with raw force sending you soaring into the stadium walls, the rocks crumple around you, as you struggle to lift yourself up once more.

Your eyes try to carve sight through dust and debris. The air is thick, hot and cold. You blink twice desperate for your eyes to focus. There are silhouettes dancing towards you twirling through the air like Yumkasaurus.

Capitano's ice projectiles glide through the air, they're almost beautiful if you could doubt their lethality. He commands them with flickers of his wrist, and it's only when their frost kisses your body that you fully remember this is a battle, not a dance. They lounge themselves between your ribs, underneath your heart, in the plump of your thigh, the bullseye of your shoulder. Pretty icicles cut open your flesh burying themselves deeply inside you, you'd almost dub it romantic, with how the icicles intonate to your erratic heartbeat.

The frost begins to infiltrate your vascular flow, cauterizing you from the inside. Spreading through the outside, you hiccup out a low moan. Capitano laughs, in a tone that feigns mockery. "I see my ice is to your liking". You bite your lip holding back another moan, it's so wholly painful yet so satisfying. You were right the cold does offer such a delicious relief from the blazing inferno all around.

Your opponent stalks closer, kneeling by your freezing body. You doubt Muarvirka can see through the grey air permutating the stadium. Maybe that's why, away from all prying eyes. The captain lifts his helmet revealing smirking lips. He grazes the side of your mouth with a faux kiss. savoring your warmth before, parting your lips, and deepening the kiss. Even his lips are utterly frozen, he sucks you flames from your mouth extinguishing your fires, with blood-deep frost. He runs a cold iron-clad claw across her cheek, scrapping up the skin, creating a rivulet of red. Before licking it lovingly with his icy tongue. "Why are you so cold?" you shutter, "Why so frostbitten? Has no one ever taught you the joys of the flame?"

He laughs, really really laughs this time. And while you still can't see his eyes, you swear they soften. "I've been burnt too many times, trust me the cold has its merits. But one must be willing to surrender to them."

Capitano plucks your body from the ground. He cradles you roughly in his arms.

He has no warmth to offer.

No heat.

He is only ice.

The fog yields, as you look up. Mavuika screams, her anger palpable. "I'll accept her as my prize for now archon" Capitano spits. "But next time I shall challenge you and know that I will take the gnosis too."

The flames in the stadium roar, trying to melt away the frost plaguing your body. Trying to replenish your spark. You begin to flail and kick, desperate to be liberated from Capitano's iron and frost-clad grasp.

You need to break free, to return to your archon's side, to be there when the others return with Kachina. You can not let this monster pilfer you away from your home, your people, your archone.

"Let me go!" you scream, your last attempt at a battle cry.

"Shhh, war trophies have no right to refuse."

⋆⋆⋆༺𓆩⸸𓆪༻⋆⋆⋆

Super tempted to draw the reader's outfit!!

🪐 @definitely-asexual-volcano @eth3realc0rps3  @numberonefanfury  @madara3437 @crystalkat6747 @m00nlight-mexican @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @orcasandtea @tecchoukisserr

[vxsellie]

AFLAME - E.W

pairing : firefighter!ellie x rescued!reader synopsis : your apartment goes up in flames and you're unlucky enough to have been on the top floor, your front door blocked by fire. thankfully, a certain firefighter finds you before it's too late a/n : ok this literally took so long to write i cannot ,, but im so excited to finally be posting it bc i feel like u guys will like it ! also i gave in to ur guys pleading and made a sequel here , it's not a part 2 but i hope it's enough to satisfy your thirst for more wc : 7.7k

your back is pressed against the wall of your kitchen as you clutch your cat in your arms. she mews in your hold, growing more restless by the second. you can hear the frantic shouting of firemen running up and down the halls of your apartment, rescuing your neighbors one by one. but your door is engulfed in flames, making it impossible for you to show them any sign of you being trapped in here.

oxygen is slowly depleting as your breaths become less like breaths and more like sharp gasps of air. your throat burns and your skin stings with the heat.

your cat, amber, shifts in your arms, wanting to move and breathe without struggle. you hush her, fighting tears as you begin to lose hope in ever being rescued. amber continues to meow loudly, her voice becoming more raw by the second. you shush her, not wanting her to waste her breath on trying to get your attention.

you run a gentle hand down her back, coughing as you try to comfort her. tears run down your cheeks as her mewing doesn't cease. your hand begins to shake as you caress her fur.

sirens can be heard from the street, muffled by your closed window and thin walls. your initial thought had been to open your window for air, but you knew better than to feed the flames with oxygen, so you settled in your kitchen as far away from the fire as possible and fell to your knees with amber against you.

firefighters continue to walk down the hall, calling out things you cannot hear. you recognize the croaky voice of your neighbor. silently, you're glad she managed to get out safe. she'd always been a very kind old woman to you, offering you burnt cookies and warm stories of her grandchildren.

amber continues to scratch and paw at you. you blink away tears and give her a weak smile, feeling the lack of oxygen begin to get to your head. you're delirious and in pain. you'd hurt your arm when you pulled amber out of the debris that'd become of the bathroom. you cut it open on the splintering door, the wood digging right into your forearm without mercy. you can feel the warm blood running down your arm and between your fingers where you hold amber firm against your chest. you try not to focus on the pain, though, rather directing your attention to managing your low source of air.

you hear footsteps begin to descend down the staircase and you can't help the tears that begin to pool down your face at the thought of being left up here. your shoulders tremble as you sob into amber's fur.

you can't go anywhere near the door without being burnt alive. you can't open any windows without your entire apartment exploding with you inside. you can't scream for help because you know nobody would hear you anyway.

the sudden sound of someone pounding on your door brings your mind away from its decent into despair. you instantly sit up straight, amber still restless and eager for play. you watch with blurred vision and a throbbing head as someone bangs on your door. after a moment, it flies off its hinges as a red boot comes barreling through the wood.

"in here!" you shout, staggering to your feet as the firefighter enters your apartment. your body sways on your feet due to exhaustion as the person follows the sound of your voice into the kitchen.

they enter, a gas mask covering their face. they say something to you, but your ears are ringing with the disbelief that they were able to find you. their hands reach forward, offering to hold amber.

see, you know it's unfair and you know you shouldn't, but you refuse. you shake your head, holding amber closer to your chest. she'd always been your dearest possession, and is now your only possession as the rest have been burnt to char. the firefighter nods, not thinking it wise to put up a fight with you.

"ah, shit, your arm." the firefighter mutters. their feminine voice points out that they are, apparently, a woman. "okay, okay. listen, you hold your cat and i'll carry you."

you blink, "what? i don't⎯"

"don't be difficult, now." she orders, crouching down before you can deny her the chance. she puts one arm under your knees, the other across your back. then, bridal style, she hauls you into her arms.

the room swims around you, your head throbbing and your throat raw. not to mention the indescribable pain in your arm. everything swirls and blurs under your delirious gaze. you lean back into her chest, amber meowing loudly at the stranger holding you.

the woman walks toward the front door, making sure to cover your face with her gloved hand as she passes through the flamed doorway. you cough when you're in the hallway, your chest constricting with the amount of smoke in your lungs.

"shh, you're fine. you're okay, i got you." the woman mutters as she begins to descend the concrete stairway. and, for some reason, you believe her.

you turn your focus toward her, staring at what you can make out of her face through her blackened gas mask. you can see her pale green eyes narrowed as her lashes blink repeatedly as she rushes down the steps whilst simultaneously trying not to jostle you too much. her lips are pursed in concentration, the bridge of her nose catching the light as she turns a corner at a landing.

"how'd you know i was in there?" you ask, your words slurred and your voice groggy.

"ma'am, please. just rest." she instructs, her gaze flicking down to your face for a split second before looking back forward. "we don't need to make conversation when you're clearly disturbed and in pain. just relax."

"i can't rest. my head hurts too bad." you say, shaking your head. "just⎯ answer my questions and i promise to leave you alone."

"okay fine." she sighs. "i knew you were in there because your elderly neighbor was a rather feisty woman. she threatened us with her butcher knife, saying she'd stab us and sue our company if we didn't make sure to save you and your cat."

a small smile tugs at your lips. you shut your eyes, tipping her head back. "mm, sounds like her."

"she's quite terrifying." the firefighter comments.

"she's a good person, most the time. she has a huge family and cares for them deeply, she just⎯ she knows i don't have anyone so she treats me like a part of her family." you murmur.

if you weren't so high in delirium, there's no way you'd be saying all this to a random stranger. frankly, you're a rather private person. you only open up to those you're close with and feel comfortable confiding in. take your neighbor for example. you've lived beside her for the past three years.

when you open your eyes, the woman is gazing down at you. her footsteps have become less frantic as she watches you with parted lips.

the two of you have now reached the foyer. a few other firefighters are seen with hoses and blankets for the rescued residents. the woman carries you across the linoleum flooring, the heels of her boots thudding loudly as she crosses the space to get to the large glass door.

once you're outside, you can feel amber relish in the fresh air. her incessant mewing ceases and she begins to purr. your heart clenches as the sound, pitying the fact that she's so happy about something so little such as fresh air.

"williams!" a voice calls out as the woman ⎯ who is apparently named williams, though you're fairly certain that's her last name ⎯ carries you over to a nearby ambulance. "what the hell took you so long!? we were worried sick!"

"oh calm down." williams replies, easing you down onto the edge of the ambulance where the back doors are open.

a paramedics rushes up to you with a roll of gauze. with you now tended to, williams turns away from you to focus on the man in front of her. still, despite the attention you're getting from the paramedic, she refuses to stray too far from where you sit.

after a moment of you swaying back and forth gently as someone wrapping bandages painfully tight around your arm, you hear your neighbors shrill voice call out for you from across the parking lot.

"oh, dear!" she shouts as she rushes toward you, her floral shirt tattered and covered in debris, her grey hair laced with ash. overall, she appears unharmed and you relax a bit at the sight. "oh, i haven't been able to rest until i knew you were okay, but⎯" her eyes trail down to where blood is seeping through the gauze around your forearm. "turns out you're not unharmed."

"it's just a cut, agnes." you insist, still holding amber in your lap as your arm throbs with even more pain than before now that the paramedic has wrapped the bandage far too tightly around your skin. "i'm fine⎯"

"oh, you always say that." she waves a hand at you dismissively.

she then turns to williams, recognizing her to have been the woman that she'd forced into rescuing you earlier. anges tugs on her arm to get her attention, causing williams to turn to face her. she removes her gas mask to be more respectful when speaking to a resident. at the sight of williams' uncovered face, you nearly faint. she looks as though she'd been chiseled from stone and created by a sculptor who was desperately in love with their muse.

"yes, ma'am?" she inquires, turning to agnes with a raised brow.

"i told you guys to get her out of there unharmed!" she reprimands, seething with rage as she gestures toward where you're being tended to. the paramedic is now offering you pills and water for your headache.

williams blinks, taken aback by the blame suddenly pointed toward her. "i don't⎯"

"it wasn't her fault," you interrupt, "i hurt myself trying to save amber."

"still. had the firefighters been there sooner, you wouldn't have had to save your poor cat all on your own." agnes points out, insistent on blaming the woman in front of her.

"i sincerely apologize, ma'am, but you must know that⎯"

"i don't want to hear it!" she interrupts her, holding a hand out to stop her from speaking any further. "to make it up to her, you're now responsible for finding her a place to stay."

"but⎯"

"no buts!"

williams snaps her mouth shut, likely remembering the image of when agnes held her at knifepoint and threatened her entire career. you smile to yourself at the idea of such a sweet old lady scaring the shit out of some buff firefighter.

agnes turns to face you with a soft expression. "you don't worry about a thing, dear. she will figure it all out for you. she'll make sure you have food on your plate and a roof over your head. if not, i'll make her regret it."

she places a gentle hand on your shoulder as she speaks, the last sentence laced with passive aggressiveness to williams, who stands off to the side with furrowed brows. after her assurance, agnes trots off with her infamous prideful stride. the other residents of your apartment scowl at her as she walks by, nobody being a fan of her fiery personality aside from you.

williams sighs, turning to you with a raised brow. "a good person, huh?"

"i said most the time." you point out with a playful smile.

no longer losing a significant amount of blood or with a throbbing headache, you're far less feverish, now able to speak without slurring or letting random facts about yourself slip.

williams sits down beside you, allowing her head to tip back. you stare shamelessly, enraptured by the way her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths or the bits of ash and dirt smudged across her skin. after a moment, she turns to you, removing her gloves and pulling her phone from her pocket. "suppose i should start looking for nearby hotels for you, right?"

you scoff, "you don't need to do that. she was just being protective."

"no, no." she insists. "she was right about one thing. and thats the fact that you wouldn't have been hurt if i got there sooner."

"don't blame yourself, williams, i'm fine."

"ellie." she corrects you with a brow raised in amusement.

you narrow your eyes at her. "what?"

"my name." she tells you with a light chuckle shaking her chest. "call me ellie. only my coworkers call me williams. it's for formality's sake. and, quite frankly, i hate it."

"oh, i'm sorry. i just heard someone call you that and i⎯"

"its fine." she tells you with a small smile. she shakes her head and turns back to her phone, typing for a place to stay in the search bar.

she scrolls through the options for a few minutes. while she does so, you busy yourself with checking amber for any possible wounds or marks. you hold her in the air, making sure to put most of her weight on your uninjured arm as your other still aches with residual pain.

the paramedic didn't give you any ointment or stitches, though you likely needed them. he'd simply wrapped your arm, albeit painfully tight, handed you some pills, then sauntered off to the next wounded resident.

"damn it," you hear ellie mutter under her breath. you turn your attention back to her. she feels your eyes on her and she explains. "none of the hotels accept cats and all the motels are closed."

"i told you i'll be fine." you tell her, a pang of guilt shooting through you. "anges is just⎯"

"protective, i know." she finishes for you. she turns off her phone and stuffs it back into her pocket and turns to face you with brows furrowed in thought. "and don't you dare tell me not to worry after you just told me that you have no family. i know you have nowhere else to go."

you tense at the mention of your family, instantly feeling embarrassed and a bit ashamed even. you shakes your head, "still. it's not your issue to concern yourself with."

"it's literally my job." she points out.

you sigh, knowing you won't win this argument against her. she turns to face forward, staring at the starry sky in thought. meanwhile, you turn toward the opposite direction, seeing that the aflamed building has now been put out. despite that, it pains you to see the apartment you lived in for the past few years in shambles. not all the neighbors were as kind as agnes, but you still called that place home. and now it's gone.

you hold amber tightly against you, her warm fur serving as comfort against the chill of pain that traces up your spine. she purrs against you, nestling deeper into your chest for more pets.

"i have an idea." ellie suddenly blurts out. you turn to look at her, seeing her expression now overcome by newfound determination. "stay with me."

you're instantly taken aback by the proclamation, your brows shooting up as your lips part in shock. "what?"

"my house isn't far from here. come back with me to the fire station so i can change and pick up my car, then we can head over there and you can stay with me for as long as you need until you find yourself a place." she says, her tone making it sound as though it were obvious all along.

"you mean it?" you ask, voice small.

"of course." she confirms. "plus, how could i say no to such a cute cat?"

she reaches out and pets amber gentle behind her ear. she leans into the touch, shutting her eyes and purring loudly. you smile, allowing the two of them a moment to connect. especially considering that you have no idea how long you'll be staying with ellie for.

"this means a lot to me." you say, causing ellie to lift her head and peer up at you, still gently caressing amber. your entire body is overcome with a sense of gratitude for ellie williams and the unintentional safety her presence provides you with. "i mean it."

***

twenty minutes later, you find yourself amid chaos. you rode with ellie back to the fire station and now you're standing awkwardly as everyone files out of their respective trucks. some of them are covered head to toe in soot and grime. others appear unscathed. ellie herself is somewhere between the two ⎯ in need of a shower, but not repulsing in her uncleanliness. you, on the other hand, are extremely dirty and bloody and gross.

amber sleeps in your arms are you press your back against a nearby brick wall and watch the firefighters all bound around the space. some of them are changing right there in the locker room ⎯ which doesn't have a door, by the way, though it's around a corner. others are rushing to the parking lot, desperate to get home.

"sorry," ellie apologizes as she rushes up to you. she no longer wears her hat, short brown hair askew atop her head. she runs her hands through it, giving you a sincere look. "i forgot how hectic it can be to someone who's not used to this."

you have a hand, "ah, it's fine."

secretly, you're dying inside. not only because your headache is beginning to reform at the sudden mayhem, but because ellie looks so fucking good right now. she saved your life and you know it's likely disrespectful to be so attracted to her, but you can't help it. you know what it feels like to be held in her arms and looked at with delicacy and you can't stop yourself from yearning for more.

"you sure?" she ask. "because if you're fine with it, i might just⎯"

"woah there, williams!" one of her coworkers calls out, walking up and draping his arm over her shoulders playfully. "you kidnapped one of the residents?"

she rolls her eyes, though a small smile can be seen on tugging at her lips. "haha, very funny. no, asshole, i didn't kidnap her. she needs somewhere to stay so i offered my place."

the man raises a brow at this, intrigued. he removes his arm from her shoulders and peers down at you curiously. though, once his eyes land on the sleeping cat in your hands, he breaks out into a wide grin. he holds out his hands. "oh my god! please, please, please can i hold him?"

you shoot the man a scowl, turning amber away from his sight. "not a chance. and she's a girl."

his eyebrows shoot up at your protectiveness. he turns to ellie, waiting for her to defend him. she crosses her arms, shaking her head with a chuckle. "she loves her damn cat, man, can't do anything about that."

he sighs, but says nothing to win your favor. he simply grumbles under his breath about being filthy and scurries off to the showers, already stripping his shirt off on his way there.

with him gone, ellie turns to you with a smirk. "glad to see that i'm not the only one who's denied touching your cat at first."

"of course not." you say. "nobody gets to touch her after the tough day she's had."

"that's fair." ellie agrees with a light laugh. after a moment, she says, "anyway. i was going to ask if you're okay with me showering and changing here instead of waiting until we're back home. that way, once we get back, you can have the shower all to yourself while i prepare you a place to sleep."

you nod, "yeah, of course. do whatever works best for you, ellie, i'm not picky."

"okay." she replies, seeming grateful for your flexibility. she glances over her shoulder toward where the locker rooms are. "okay, yeah. you wait on the bench over here, i'll come out and get you when i'm done."

she gestures toward a wooden bench. it's rather ragged and positioned in the very center of the chaos, but you nod regardless. ellie is offering you a place to stay for an undecided amount of time. refusing her orders would be incredibly rude at this point. so, instead, you nod and walk over to the bench whilst she walks over to the women's locker room.

you cross your legs, allowing amber to sleep in your lap as you wait. you can hear the low hum of people talking from deeper within the building ⎯ likely where the offices and more professional rooms are located ⎯ along with the gentle flow of water from the showers down the hall. people are laughing loudly within the locker rooms, the sound of boots and hats and clothes hitting the floor easy to pinpoint.

you allow your eyes to examine the space around you. the floor is concrete, stained with random spills and dirt. hoses and ladders line the brick walls, hung up as high as they can go. then, on the ceiling, large industrial lights sway gently back and forth. the showers are down the hallway, the men and women's locker rooms on either side of the hall.

suddenly, a loud rumble is heard as the huge garage door is lifted up via pulley. your head snaps toward the sound, watching as a bright red truck pulls into the space.

another wave of firemen bustle into the building once a truck shows up and they're able to pile out of it. they rush in different directions, splitting up in groups of those wishing to change and clean and those who wish to go home as soon as possible.

you avert your eyes down to look at amber as the people walk around you, trying not to draw attention to yourself. though, that's rather inevitable as you stick out like a sore thumb. everyone else is in their uniforms while you're in normal clothes, ash and dirt on your skin with a bloodied bandage wrapped around your forearm that you're trying your hardest to ignore.

and, unfortunately, amber draws quite a bit of attention as you hear a few people murmur and coo in awe of the sleeping cat. you tell yourself to ignore it, uncomfortable with the attention.

"hey," someone says. you look up to see a man standing in front of you with two of his friends on either side of him. he's covered in dirt, the stench of fire filling your nose as he nears you. "cute cat."

"thanks." you say shortly, narrowing your eyes at him defensively.

"oh c'mon, i'm not gonna bite." he says with a laugh. you only deepen your glare at this, already able to know what type of guy you're dealing with here. "what's your name, little lady? come here alone? y'know, i could take ya home if ya need a warm bed for the night. we could share."

he takes a step closer, his knees knocking with your crossed ones. he hunches a bit to reach his hand toward amber. you instantly slap it away, not thinking before using your injured arm. you wince a bit, but fight not to show the pain it causes you. he yanks his hand back as though he'd been burned.

"fuck off." you snap. "at least have the decency to ask before touching her."

"watch it." he sneers. "i've been out saving people all day. i don't need some ungrateful bitch to tell me what i can and can't do."

you roll your eyes. "clearly you do, seeing as you can't tell for yourself what's acceptable."

"how dare you!" he gapes.

his friends both step closer, the three of them crowding you. your arm aches at your side from having used it so carelessly to slap him away. you don't falter, though, knowing that's exactly what they want you to do. instead, you hold your ground and scowl up at him, holding the man's gaze without blinking.

"it's common fucking etiquette to not touch someone without asking." you tell him.

"i didn't touch you, dumbass." he says, his voice growing louder with each word. a few people are beginning to turn toward the commotion, nosily wondering what's going on. "i touched your cat. big fucking difference, there."

"the principle still stands." you point out, keeping your expression neutral and your voice perfectly level ⎯ which only serves to make him more irritated. "you're supposed to ask before reaching your grimy ass hands toward me."

"fuck you!" he shouts, now gaining the attention of everyone around you. "i already fucking told you⎯"

"what the hell is going on here?"

all four of you turn to see ellie standing with her arms crossed. her jacket is off, a thin black tank top covering her top half while her baggy uniform pants cover her lower half. her hair is wet, chin dripping water droplets to the cement floor.

at the sight of her, the two friends seem to no longer be interested in the conversation as they suddenly disappear from the scene. the man in front of you frowns, taking a step away from you though his chest continues to rise and fall with angered breaths.

"answer me, smith." she demands, voice laced with venom. "i asked what the hell is going on here and i don't like being ignored by lower ranks."

"i asked to pet her cat and she⎯"

"no he didn't." you interrupt, the entire left side of your body engulfed in pain after having hit the guy's hand. and you didn't even hit him that hard, damn. "he reached out to touch her without asking. not to mention his horrible flirting."

ellie listens to you intently before casting her gaze over to the man, smith. "so you lied to me?"

"what? n-no! i just⎯" he stammers, eyes flicking between you and ellie, frantic for his coworker to understand. "why are you taking her side over mine, williams? we've worked together for⎯ what? two years?"

"yeah, and you're renown for being a complete asshole." she scoffs.

"but she⎯"

"she is a civilian. and it's our job to protect and respect them, is it not?" she points out, raising her brows as he nods, ashamed. "that includes not cursing at them, calling them bitches, or touching them without permission."

"it wasn't her!" he exclaims. "it was just the damned cat!"

"don't touch her fucking cat, man." calls out the guy who ellie had talked to earlier. the one she seemed to actually enjoy being around. he appears to have just gotten out of the shower, naught but a towel around his waist to substitute as clothing.

"gee, i had no idea." smith grounds out through clenched teeth, his fists balled at his sides. "i can fucking see that now. thanks."

"anytime, buddy." the other man says with a wink before disappearing back into the locker room.

ellie continues to stand behind smith her her arms crossed, her thin tank top showing off every muscle in her torso. you have to force yourself not to stare, distracting yourself by petting amber's back delicately.

"apologize." ellie demands.

"what? me?" he asks, confused. "but⎯"

"i'm not fucking asking, smith." she threatens. "apologize to the pretty lady or i tell miller about this whole thing and you lose your damn job."

apparently, the mention of miller seems to snap smith into obedience as he quickly nods his head and turns to you with a scowl. his fists continue to shake at his sides, his anger balled between his fingers there.

"i'm. sorry." he grunts.

you should accept it, you know you should. but you were never good at doing what you're supposed to. so, instead, you tilt your head innocently and ask, "sorry for what exactly?"

he appears on the edge of insanity as he clenches his jaw and rushes out a quick explanation. "i'm sorry for trying to touch your cat."

"without..." you trail off, allowing him to follow.

"without asking." he finishes.

you smile victoriously, nodding to ellie as to allow her to dismiss him. she obliges, turning to him and giving him one last lecture on respect and obedience before allowing him to make the walk of shame back to the locker room full of men who just heard that entire encounter.

when he turns the corner, ellie walks up to you with a playful grin. "damn, you surely stood your ground there."

"of course i did." you agree. "not just anyone can touch my cat."

she huffs out a laugh, shaking her head at you fondly. "c'mon, lets get out of here. the shower was freezing anyway. all these assholes stole the hot water before i even had a chance."

"okay." you smile, shifting amber in your arms before standing from the bench.

the two of you walk out of the fire station and into the parking lot. the moon hangs high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the parked cars. you watch ellie as she pulls her keys from her pocket and unlocks her vehicle. the moonlight illuminates her skin with a soft hue, her wet hair clinging to the back of her neck.

you reach the car and enter the passenger's seat, holding amber in your lap as ellie puts the key into the ignition the car rumbles into motion. she backs out of the parking space and heads down the road, one hand on the wheel as the other is lazily draped over the center console between the two of you.

you watch through the window as the city passes you by in a blur, cars and shops reflect the moon's glow, everything cast under its resplendent coloring. you turn to ellie, deciding to fill the air with conversation.

"so you're a high rank firefighter?" you ask. "sure looked like those guys respected the fuck out of you."

she chuckles, "i'm ranked high, yes. but they only listen to me because the boss will always take my side over any of theirs and they knows that."

"miller?" you question, recalling the name she'd spoken.

"yeah. joel miller." she confirms. "he's an intimidating man and you'd have to be a fool not to be scared of him."

"are you? scared of him, i mean."

"i was." she says. "but after a few years of working under him and getting to know him as a person rather than just his position of authority, i feel i know him too well to be scared of him."

you hum, "that sounds nice, though. you have power over everyone else."

"yeah. sometimes i wish they'd just respect me without joel's reputation looming over my every move." she confesses with a sigh, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel lightly. "most of my coworkers would rather die than respect a woman, though, so i'm a bit out of luck there."

"well, fuck them." you say. "if they can't see your worth outside of your relationship with miller, their opinions don't mean shit."

her eyebrows shoot up at this, shocked by your sudden ferocity. once the initial shock dwindled, though, she laughs. a full-chested laugh that fills the car. your heart clenches at the sound, musical and luminary in its significance.

"yeah." she says between laughter. "yeah, fuck them."

you laugh along with her, the conversation falling into an easy rhythm. you get to know ellie better and she gets to know you, the both of you simultaneously coming to the decision that it'd be best to get the small talk out of the way before you live together for an undetermined amount of time.

amber remains curled up in your lap, her fur still covered in ash. not like you're much better yourself, though, as your hair is coated in soot and your skin has a thick layer of filth atop it.

when ellie pulls into her driveway, you're shocked to see the house. it's a small cottage-styled building, made of cobblestone and white shudders. the sidewalk is framed with bushes and flowers that have clearly been tended to by their owner. if you were completely honest, you'd expected ellie to live in some sort of industrial building, hardened and dark like her personality.

she shuts off the car and you both exit through your respective sides of the vehicle, amber jostling awake in your hold. ellie unlocks the front door before allowing you entry, the lock clicking as she turns the handle.

you walk inside, the space small but cozy. one bedroom, one bathroom, an open layout for the kitchen and living room. the flooring is wood, antique carpets laid out over the larger spaces. plaid blankets are draped over chairs and couches, available to the user.

"this is cute," you say, looking around, "didn't take you for a homey decor type."

she chuckles, shutting and locking the front door behind herself. "well i've gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

you laugh, placing amber on the floor to allow her time to roam and stretch her legs. in an instant, she's disappeared and won't be found for the next few hours. ellie leads you to the bathroom, allowing you time to clean off.

the bathroom is small as well, a tiny sink surrounded by a messy counter beside the toilet and tiny shower. if you're being completely honest, you love the house. it's so small and yet so comfy and warm. the disheveled nature to the house makes it feel more like a home, lived in and used. you love it. ellie, on the other hand, has been subtly tidying up as you guys walk through the space. while you examine the shower, she stacks up the messily placed contents of the countertop. when you turn back around to face her, she instantly stops, quick to cover up what she'd been doing. you find it oddly endearing.

"well," she murmurs, "i'll leave you to it."

with that and nothing more, she exits the bathroom. she'd already showed you how to use the shower and where to find towels so you're well prepared to wash off. but, as you strip your clothes off, a fiery pain shoots down your arm and up your side. you wince, looking down at the bandaged wound. it's bleeding through the material, your fingers beginning to feel numb from how tight it's wrapped.

you ignore it and step into the shower, trying to wash off without any thought for the searing pain in your limb. you wash your hair and scrub your body with your uninjured arm, the scent of ellie filling the air. her shampoo and body wash now coats you, a certain intimacy to the domestic act of sharing bathroom supplies. for some reason, the flutter in your heart is harder to ignore than the physical agony in your forearm.

you finish showering and wrap yourself in the towel ellie had set out for you. water drips onto the tile flooring, creating a puddle around you. you hug the towel closer to your body, not wanting to make a mess in ellie's home. but your arm suddenly aches at the way you tighten your grip.

with a groan, you decide to unwrap the wound and check on how it's doing. seeing as ellie is a firefighter, you're sure she's got some bandages under the sink. you undo it, instantly grimacing at the sight of the gore. you wince as cold air touches the open wound.

"fuck," you mutter, taking in the lack of care the paramedic put into helping you. there's no way you should have walked off without stitches or some kind of cleaning.

you crouch down to the cabinet under the sink and begin rummaging through its contents. you feel horrible for going through ellie's belongings in such a way, but you assure yourself it's for a good reason. you eventually find a first-aid kit and you crack it open.

unfortunately, you have no experience with medical care. half the things in the kit are foreign to you, random rolls of gauze and unlabeled ointments. you frown, the pain in your arm only growing as more time passes. eventually, you decide to just bite the bullet and ask ellie for assistance. you stand from the floor and close her cabinet before calling out to her.

"ellie! can you come in here for a sec?" you shout, sitting down on the closed toilet seat with the first aid kit in your lap. within seconds, she's opening the door, now changed into a pair of shorts and a random band tee.

"hey, what's—" her words instantly cut off when her gaze lands on your bloody arm, the wound no longer wrapped and now reopened. "holy shit, what are you doing?"

she rushes over to you, her voice laced with concern and desperation to help you. your eyes sting at the sound, never having heard someone so worried about you. you blink it away, looking down as you struggle to explain yourself. "the paramedic didn't wrap it well and— it, uh, hurt really fucking bad, and—"

"shh, shh," she walks over to you with soothing tones and gentle hands, "you're okay, let me see."

you hold your arm out to her, allowing her to examine it. she holds your wrist delicately in her hand, turning your arm over to look at the wound. she sucks in a breath at the sight. you frown, "is it that bad?"

"no, just," she sighs, "don't worry about it, okay? i'll fix it as best i can."

she crouches in front of you, taking a few things from the first aid kit. you watch as she picks out a specific ointment, her knowing exactly what to grab despite them not having labels. she then grabs a roll of gauze and a bottle of something, but the label is faced away from you. she sets the ointment and gauze aside, uncapping the bottle.

"this is gonna hurt." she warns you as she grabs a rag from the disarrayed countertop and pours a bit of the liquid onto the fabric. when she places the bottle aside you manage to read the name of it. hydrogen peroxide. she notices your wary gaze and gives you a reassuring smile. "it's a disinfectant, it'll clean the wound to prevent any infections."

you nod, sighing through your nose as you hold your forearm out to her. she watches you with furrowed brows as she places the rag over the open wound. you instantly stiffen, wincing through the pain. your jaw clenches as the liquid seeps into open flesh. you squeeze your eyes shut, "fuck that hurts." you pant.

"i know, i know," she whispers, gentility laced between the threads of her tone. "it's okay, you'll feel better soon, just— just breathe,"

you try to do was she instructs, but your breath comes out choppy and uneven. you open your eyes to see her staring up at you with pursed lips and a knitted brow. the sheer worry in her gaze adds weight to the air that suffocates you. it presses down on your chest and further constricts your lungs, which only serves to deepen her worry.

you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the wall behind ellie's head. you stare at it intently, though you remain unable to shake the queasy feeling that comes with knowing ellie's eyes are on your face, tracing every feature that adorns it.

finally, she removes the rag from your arm and you're flooded with the relief of no longer being burned from the inside out. she sets the cloth aside and grabs the ointment, squeezing a small dot of it onto her forefingers.

"will this hurt too?" you ask tentatively.

she shakes her head, "no, this will soothe the pain."

"okay." you nod. "i'm far more excited for this part then."

"i don't blame you," she says with a light laugh.

she then leans forward holding you arm with an indescribably delicacy. you find yourself yearning to lean into her touch, wanting to collapse in her arms. but, somehow, you find the strength to hold back and remain sitting upright on the toilet seat. she runs her fingers down the soft part of your forearm, coating you torn skin in an off-white salve. the cool temperature instantly soothes the pain and you let out a soft sigh at the feel of it.

"oh yeah, this is so much better," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your mouth.

she looks up at you through her lashes, head remaining downcast as she carefully adds more ointment. "how'd this happen anyway? you just took the wrap off?"

"the paramedic wrapped it too tight." you explain. "my fingers were going numb and i could feel my heartbeat in my forearm. he didn't add any of this fancy shit you're adding either."

she chuckles, "ointment and disinfectant, you mean? it's hardly fancy. i'd have thought a paramedic would be smart enough to know that." her teeth grit slightly as she clenches her jaw around the mention of the incompetent medic who handled you earlier. she shakes her head, "i should've stayed with you and made sure he'd done his job right."

"that's not you obligation, ellie." you remind her. "and look. you're helping me now far better than any medic would have. i almost prefer it this way."

"oh really?" she asks, unconvinced. "you prefer to have some strange woman attempt to fix you up in her messy bathroom than a licensed and highly qualified paramedic in an ambulance?"

you shrug, "well he apparently wasn't that highly qualified."

"true," she agrees with a laugh.

she finishes coating on the ointment and twists the cap back onto it before setting it on the countertop beside the discarded rag and peroxide. she grabs the roll of gauze and begins to unravel it.

you watch her with lidded eyes, the events of today beginning to catch up to you. it's hard to believe you'd woken up this morning thinking it'd be a normal day. you'd just gotten back from work when you smelt smoke from one of your neighbor's apartments. the though didn't click in your head until you saw flames beginning to crawl into your home. one thing lead to another, and now you're here. in the house of someone who you hadn't known five hours ago.

"still," you murmur as she starts to wrap the gauze, "i prefer you helping me because you actually care about my wellbeing and not just making as much money as possible. you're kind, ellie. i'd be a fool to prefer a medic over you."

she lifts her head to meet your eyes, her movements coming to a sudden halt. her pale green eyes bore into your own, something sensual and momentous passing between the space that separates you. the bathroom is enveloped into a long wave of silence, nothing done nor spoken.

the weight of your situation presses down on you both. ellie, in her baggy shorts and stained band tee, having invited a wounded stranger into her home ; you, in naught but a towel, feeling more at home in ellie's vicinity than you ever did anywhere else.

a tether is tied between you as you feel the weight of the world pull you toward ellie. you lean in, just barely, ready for something you can hardly even process at the time being. she does the same, completely disregarding the gauze and pinning every ounce of her attention to you and the closing gap between you.

your noses brush and a spark ignites deep within you, something in your soul screaming that this is correct. a celestial puzzle clicks into place when your lips meet hers, the stars in the sky and the soil under mother nature screaming with victory as the two of you connect.

she tastes of fire and desperation, you of toothpaste and exhaustion. your wounded arm means nothing to you when you shift forward to wrap them both around ellie's neck and tug her closer. she does, rising to her knees as she places her hands on each of your hips, only a thin white towel separating her hands from your bare skin. she leans into you, allowing her hands to feel and memorize the curves of your poorly covered body.

"wait," she mutters against your mouth, "wait wait wait."

you pull back, staring at her with curiosity. her pupils are blown, cheeks flushed, lips wet. everything in you begs to lean back in, but you force that feeling down and oblige by her wishes to part. "what is it?" you ask.

"just—" she cuts herself off with a sigh, staring into your eyes with naught but adoration behind her irises. "i really like you and, uh," she looks down, blinking harshly as she tries to voice her thoughts without fucking it all up. your heart melts at the sight, remaining patient as she sorts through her jumbled mind. "i want to take my time with you. i don't want this to just be some fling. i respect you more than that."

you continue to stare at her, your eyes doing all the talking when your mouth is out of words to say. after a long moment, you finally say, "that's fine, ellie. we can do whatever you're comfortable with."

her shoulders relax at the sound of her name on your tongue, spoken with such careful delicacy that it sounds like music, like it should be praised and studied for hundreds of years to come. not only that, but she softens at your words as well, eternally grateful for your understanding.

"we can still kiss though," she's quick to add.

you laugh, shaking your head fondly at her rush to make sure that's out of the way. you lean in, still smiling as your lips touch. everything falls into place around you, nothing aside from ellie mattering to you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 taglist : @luvsturniolo @zombieegirl @elliestunna

[hisfavegirl]

Fire and Rose Petals - Daemon Targaryen x Reader

summary : your marriage with daemon is no longer based on duty, but love. you and daemon become more and more inseparable, until good news comes and you both love each other even more.

It’s been nearly a month since you and Daemon married, and you’ve both decided to stay for a while at Dragonstone, where the quiet and solitude allow you both to enjoy each other’s company without the looming pressures of the court. The island feels like a world of its own, a place where the noise of the kingdom fades, and it’s just the two of you.

The bond between you and Daemon has only grown stronger during these weeks. You’ve become inseparable, finding comfort and peace in each other’s presence. Wherever you are, Daemon is there too, and vice versa. It’s as if the two of you were always meant to be side by side. There’s a certain intimacy in this, a closeness that even the eyes of others can’t break.

Today, you find yourselves in the garden of Dragonstone, surrounded by the wild beauty of the island. The sun is setting, casting an amber glow across the sky, and the air is cool, perfect for an evening spent outdoors. You’re seated comfortably in Daemon’s lap, your body relaxed against his chest as he holds you effortlessly.

You’re both at ease, content in each other’s presence. Daemon’s hand rests on your waist, the gentle touch of his fingers grounding you as you chat softly. His presence is warm and protective, and in this moment, there’s no need for words. His eyes are focused on you, but it’s the soft smile he wears that makes your heart flutter every time.

“I never thought I’d enjoy the quiet so much,” you murmur, looking out at the horizon, where the sun dips lower behind the cliffs of Dragonstone. “Back at court, there was always something happening. It feels so peaceful here.”

Daemon chuckles softly, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve always preferred the calm,” he says. “It gives us time to focus on what truly matters.”

You smile and turn your head slightly, catching his gaze. “And what matters most to you?” you ask, a teasing tone in your voice.

Daemon’s eyes soften as he looks at you, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his expression. “You,” he replies simply, his voice full of sincerity. “You matter most to me, always have.”

His words settle in the space between you, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. It’s moments like these that remind you of the strength of the bond between you both, a connection that goes beyond the expectations of marriage or royalty. It’s something entirely your own, something deeply personal.

“You’re quite good at making me feel special,” you say with a smile, resting your hand over his. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Daemon smirks, his confidence never waning. “You didn’t get lucky,” he says, his tone playful. “You chose wisely.”

You laugh softly, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. In this peaceful space, with the sunset casting a soft glow around you and Daemon holding you close, everything else seems far away. It’s just the two of you, and in that simplicity, you find a happiness you hadn’t anticipated.

As you sit there, gazing at Daemon with a soft smile, you can’t help but notice the way his expression shifts. He’s usually confident and calm, but there’s something in his eyes today that seems distant, almost preoccupied. You catch his gaze, sensing that something is weighing on his mind.

“Daemon,” you ask gently, your voice laced with concern. “What’s on your mind? You seem… lost in thought.”

He hesitates for a moment, then sighs, his eyes meeting yours. “It’s nothing,” he begins, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance. “It’s just… my father asked me today if you were pregnant yet. If we were expecting.”

You blink in surprise, the words catching you off guard. You’d heard whispers about the expectation of an heir, but to have it brought up so directly by his father feels like an unexpected turn in your still-fresh marriage.

“Your father asked that?” you repeat, trying to process the weight of it. The idea of bearing an heir to the Targaryen name had always loomed over you, but the pressure of it suddenly feels more real.

Daemon nods, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yes. He’s… eager for grandchildren, for the line to continue. And I’m sure he thinks it’s time.”

You feel a flicker of discomfort at his words. It’s clear that Daemon, though he is fiercely independent and unwilling to be controlled by anyone, still feels the weight of his father’s expectations. You can sense the subtle pressure he’s under.

“I see,” you reply, your voice quiet, unsure of what to say next. Part of you feels the weight of this expectation too. While you’ve grown closer to Daemon and found happiness together, the idea of bearing an heir for House Targaryen, and the eyes that would be on you because of it, is daunting.

Daemon catches your eye again, his expression softening as if sensing your unease. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, a hint of his usual smirk returning. “I told him we’ll let things happen when they do. But my father’s… persistent.”

You let out a small breath, relieved by his words, but still, the notion lingers in the back of your mind. The idea of starting a family with Daemon, of continuing the Targaryen legacy, feels monumental in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

Daemon leans in slightly, his gaze intense but comforting. “We’ll handle it together, as we always do. Whatever happens, we’ll decide when the time is right.”

His words ease some of the tension in your chest, and you nod, smiling up at him. For now, you remind yourself, you have each other, and that is enough. The rest—whether or not you bear an heir—will come when the time is right.

“You’re right,” you agree, a sense of peace returning. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You gently caress Daemon’s cheek, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his face as you move closer, pressing your lips softly against his. A small sigh escapes you as you pull back slightly, your eyes searching his for any hint of doubt. There’s a quiet longing between you both, a shared desire that hasn’t been fulfilled yet, despite your efforts.

“I do want to bear your child,” you murmur softly, the words heavy with meaning. “But perhaps the gods have yet to grant us that blessing.”

Daemon’s gaze softens, his hand moving to cup your face gently, as if to comfort you. “Don’t worry, my love,” he says, his voice steady and filled with warmth. “The gods move at their own pace. We have time.”

You smile faintly, nodding in agreement, but deep down, you can’t help but feel the weight of expectation. While both of you are deeply connected and share a powerful bond, the idea of bearing an heir—especially in the eyes of the Targaryen family—is something that looms over you.

But as Daemon holds you close, his words offering reassurance, you remind yourself that love and patience can make even the most difficult paths seem easier to navigate.

At night, the sounds of passion fill the room, your connection growing stronger with every shared moment, every whispered promise. You know that your efforts are not in vain, and while the gods may have their own timeline, you and Daemon will keep trying. Together, there is nothing you cannot face.

For now, you savor each moment, each touch, knowing that in time, the gods may choose to bless you with the family you both yearn for. And when that moment comes, you will face it hand in hand with Daemon, as you always have.

You position yourself to sit facing him, he quickly hugs your waist and looks at you. You smile and kiss his lips, he who understands your intention then lifts your heavy dress to reduce the distance between you.

His hands began to untie your dress enough for you to let out your chest, he slowly squeezed it which made you moan softly. He broke his kiss and started to kiss your neck, then his mouth went down to your chest and devoured it. you gently squeezed his hair and closed your eyes, "are you sure you want to do it here? now?"

You just nodded and started to untie his pants, daemon smiled and kissed your lips again. You held his hard cock, then you directed his cock towards your wet core. Daemon removed your small cloth and began to insert his cock, you moaned as you felt him enter you completely and fill you. "Gods, how can you still be this tight after all the nights we've had?"

you laughed softly before finally moving your hips, you moaned softly. in this position you could feel him filling you, you could feel his hands on your waist following the rhythm of your hips.

"I want you to fill me up, full of your seed, round with your child" you whispered and bit his ear softly, He growled before finally lifting you up and pinning you against the wall, you moaned as he started pounding into you fast and rough. his mouth found your nipple again and sucked on it, you could only moan at the pleasure he was giving you.

"you want to be filled with my seed? you want to have my child?" you just nodded and moaned as his rhythm got faster and rougher. he growled and choked your neck softly, something inside you woke up and made you hotter. "give me your child daemon, i want you to impregnate me"

He growls and you can feel his cock twitching inside you signaling he's about to peak, “Gonna fill you up,” he growls. “With my cum until you're leaking and breed you until I'm satisfied."

you moaned as he continued to hit your sweet spot, "you take me so well, I never thought my sweet wife could turn into a whore when she was with me" Daemon growled softly and thrust his cock inside you before he finally painted your walls white.

Your breath was still, he pulled out his cock and laughed softly as he saw your juices running down your legs.

He then kissed your forehead and helped you adjust your dress before finally putting his pants back on. "If we do this more often, soon we will see little daemons or little you running around this park" you laughed hearing his words.

You let out a small yelp as Daemon suddenly lifts you off the ground, his arms strong and steady as he cradles you against his chest. Surprise quickly melts into laughter, the sound light and carefree as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Daemon!” you exclaim, still laughing as you glance around. “People are gonna watching!”

He tilts his head to look at you, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Let them watch,” he replies, his voice laced with that familiar cocky charm. “Let them see how much I cherish my wife.”

Your cheeks flush, not from embarrassment but from the warmth his words bring. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your smile as you feel the steady beat of his heart against you. His confidence has always been something you admired, and moments like this remind you of how much he truly doesn’t care for the opinions of others.

The soft murmurs of servants and the subtle glances from guards don’t faze him in the slightest. His focus is on you — only you. His steps are firm and unbothered as he carries you through the corridors of Dragonstone, his gaze unwavering as if daring anyone to question him.

The cool stone walls surround you as he makes his way toward your shared chambers. Every so often, he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering longer each time. It’s a gesture so tender, so genuine, that your heart feels as if it might burst.

“You enjoy this too much,” you tease, glancing up at him with narrowed eyes, though your smile betrays you.

“Of course I do,” he says with a smirk, his voice low and smooth. “Carrying the most precious thing in this keep? I’d do it every day if you’d let me.”

You shake your head, your smile never fading. “You’ll spoil me.”

“That’s the point,” he replies, his eyes full of affection.

When you finally reach your chambers, he doesn’t put you down right away. Instead, he lingers in the doorway, holding you close as if unwilling to let go. His eyes meet yours, filled with a kind of devotion that words could never fully express.

“Home,” he says quietly, his gaze unwavering. “Wherever you are, that is home.”

Your breath catches for a moment, but you quickly lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Then don’t ever leave,” you whisper against his mouth.

“Never,” he promises, his voice as firm as the stone around you.

With that, he steps inside, kicking the door closed behind him. No words are needed, only the warmth of his embrace as he carries you deeper into your shared sanctuary — a place where it’s just the two of you, far from the eyes of the world.

You sit comfortably on Daemon’s lap, his arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close. The cool breeze from the sea drifts in from the balcony, carrying the crisp scent of salt and the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks of Dragonstone. The night sky is vast and endless, stars twinkling like tiny flames scattered across a sea of darkness. The pale glow of the moon bathes everything in silver light, casting a serene glow over the world around you.

Daemon’s hand moves slowly up and down your back, his touch firm yet gentle, like a constant reminder that he is there — steady, unyielding, and yours. His warmth seeps into you, chasing away any hint of chill the breeze may have brought. You sigh contentedly, letting yourself sink deeper into his embrace.

You feel him press a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his lips lingering just long enough for you to feel his breath against your hair. It’s a gesture so simple, yet it makes your heart feel fuller than you ever thought possible.

“Comfortable?” he asks softly, his voice low and rough from the stillness of the night.

“More than comfortable,” you murmur, your eyes fluttering shut as you lean your head against his chest. You can hear the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you — a sound that has become more familiar and soothing than any song.

A hum of satisfaction rumbles in his chest, and then, without warning, he begins to hum a soft, low melody. It’s a tune you don’t recognize at first, slow and deep, like a lullaby that’s been forgotten by time. His voice, though unpolished, has a certain rough charm to it — raw and real. The sound vibrates through his chest, and you feel it resonate in your bones, warm and comforting.

You smile to yourself, your eyes still closed, letting the sound wash over you. It feels like the world outside has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this quiet, perfect moment. Your fingers trace lazy patterns on his tunic, your breathing slowing to match the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“You’re humming,” you tease lightly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that a problem, wife?” he replies, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you, a playful edge in his tone.

“Not at all,” you answer with a soft smile. “I like it. I think I could fall asleep like this.”

“Then sleep,” he says, his hand moving up to tangle gently in your hair, fingers combing through it with slow precision. “I’ll keep watch.”

And with that, he continues to hum, his voice low and steady, a melody meant only for you. The stars seem to flicker in time with his tune, and for the first time in a long while, you feel utterly and completely at peace.

No thrones. No expectations. No whispers from the court.

Just you, Daemon, and the quiet song of the night.

The soft glow of the morning sun filters through the heavy curtains, casting golden streaks of light across the stone floor and the plush blankets draped over you. Slowly, your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you remain still, letting the warmth of the bed cocoon you in comfort. But something feels different.

You reach out to the space beside you, expecting to feel Daemon’s familiar warmth, only to be met with cool, empty sheets. Blinking away the last remnants of sleep, you sit up, your gaze falling on the small piece of parchment resting on his pillow.

Curiosity sparks in your chest as you reach for it. His handwriting is unmistakable — sharp, bold strokes with a slight flourish at the ends of his letters.

“You looked far too peaceful to disturb. I’ve gone to the training yard. I’ll return before midday. — D.”

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips, warmth blooming in your chest. Typical Daemon. No grand farewell, just a simple note left behind, thoughtful in his own way. Your fingers trace over the ink as if the gesture alone could bring him back to you.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet touching the cold stone floor. The coolness sends a small shiver up your spine, urging you to stand and stretch. The quiet of the room is peaceful, broken only by the distant calls of seabirds outside and the faint rustle of the wind through the cracks of the stone walls.

With a soft sigh, you walk toward the washbasin, splashing cool water onto your face to chase away the last of your sleepiness. You glance at your reflection in the polished metal mirror. There’s a softness in your features that wasn’t there before — a glow, perhaps, born from the love you’ve found here.

After dressing in a simple yet elegant gown, you call for your handmaidens. They enter with quiet efficiency, brushing and braiding your hair with practiced hands. All the while, your mind drifts to Daemon. You wonder if he’s still at the training yard, swinging his sword with that sharp precision that always left you in awe.

Once you’re ready, you take one last glance at the note, your fingers brushing over it once more before tucking it into the drawer of your bedside table. It’s a small thing, but you want to keep it — a reminder of the quiet, thoughtful side of the man you call your husband.

With a final glance at the now-empty bed, you head for the door, ready to face the day. Your thoughts linger on the training yard, and you can’t help but wonder if perhaps you should pay him a visit. Seeing Daemon in his element, confident and in control, always had a way of making your heart race.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d be just as happy to see you there too.

You walk through the long, winding corridors of Dragonstone, your footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. The air smells faintly of salt and ash, a scent you’ve come to associate with this ancient castle perched atop volcanic rock. Around you, servants bustle about, their arms full of linens, trays of food, or buckets of water. They nod respectfully as you pass, some offering small smiles. You acknowledge them with a nod, your thoughts focused on reaching Daemon.

As you descend the staircase leading to the training yard, a wave of dizziness suddenly washes over you. Your vision blurs at the edges, and your breath catches in your chest. You grip the stone wall for support, eyes closing as you take a deep breath. The world tilts ever so slightly, and for a moment, you feel the familiar tug of nausea rising in your throat.

Not now, you think to yourself, swallowing hard to push the feeling down. It’s nothing. Just a little fatigue.

You press a hand lightly against your stomach as you steady yourself. Perhaps you hadn’t eaten enough this morning, or maybe you were simply still recovering from the long nights spent with Daemon. The thought of it brings a faint flush to your cheeks, but you shake your head, determined not to let a little dizziness slow you down.

With measured breaths, you push yourself off the wall and continue walking. The fresh air of the courtyard is close now, and you tell yourself that the open sky will help. As you step outside, the cool sea breeze greets you, brushing against your skin and carrying with it the distant crash of waves against the cliffs. The sun feels warmer than usual, and you lift your face to it, letting the warmth ground you.

Ahead, you spot Daemon. His silver hair catches the sunlight like molten steel, and he moves with the grace of a dragon in flight. Every swing of his sword is precise, every movement calculated and efficient. His tunic clings to him, damp with sweat, and his eyes are focused, sharp as Valyrian steel. For a moment, you stand there, watching him with quiet admiration.

He must sense your gaze because he turns his head toward you, his eyes locking with yours. A grin spreads slowly across his face — that familiar, cocky smirk that he wears so well. He lowers his sword and walks toward you, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” he teases, his voice low and playful as he stops in front of you. His eyes scan your face, his grin softening into something more tender. “You look pale, sweet wife. Did you not sleep well?”

“I slept fine,” you reply, managing a small smile. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Daemon narrows his eyes, his gaze lingering on you with quiet concern. He raises a hand to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing your skin softly.

“You’re warmer than usual,” he says, his voice laced with suspicion. “Are you sure you’re not ill?”

“I’m sure,” you insist, placing your hand over his to reassure him. “I just need some air. Watching you swing that sword of yours seems like the perfect cure.”

He huffs a short laugh but doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “If you faint, I’m carrying you straight back to bed,” he warns, his tone only half-joking.

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to stay on my feet,” you reply with a playful tilt of your head.

He stares at you for a moment longer before letting out a sigh, pulling you closer so you can rest your head briefly on his chest. You can feel the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath the damp fabric of his tunic.

“Stubborn woman,” he mutters into your hair, but his arms tighten around you nonetheless. “At least stay in the shade if you’re going to watch.”

“Yes, husband,” you reply, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

You don’t tell him about the flicker of nausea or the way the world tilted for just a moment. It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time you’d ignored something small, only for it to pass on its own.

But as you rest your head against Daemon’s chest, a quiet thought lingers in the back of your mind. What if it’s not nothing this time?

You keep your eyes on Daemon, watching his swift, controlled movements as he trains. Each swing of his sword is a show of precision and power, his muscles coiling and releasing with the grace of a predator. You smile faintly, feeling the warmth of pride in your chest. But then, it happens again.

A sudden, sharp wave of dizziness hits you harder this time. Your breath stutters, and the world around you tilts. Your heart races as your knees weaken beneath you. You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision, but everything around you blurs into swirling shapes and shifting shadows.

Your hand instinctively reaches for the wall, but it isn’t close enough. Panic flickers in your chest. Not here. Not now. You hear the distant clang of steel hitting the ground, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps.

“Hey!” Daemon’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp with worry. “What’s wrong?!”

You try to answer, but your lips feel heavy, and your tongue won’t move. The pounding of your heart grows louder in your ears, drowning out the world around you. Your knees buckle, and you feel yourself falling. The ground rushes up to meet you, but before you hit it, strong arms catch you.

“Stay with me!” Daemon’s voice is closer now, urgent, commanding. His hands are firm as they hold you, cradling you against his chest. You feel the heat of his body, hear the rapid thudding of his heart. “Look at me, look at me, love.” His voice is strained, as though he’s fighting back fear.

But your eyelids feel so heavy. Your head tilts against his shoulder, and the world slips further away. His voice sounds far away now, as if he’s shouting from across the sea.

“Call the maester! NOW!” Daemon’s roar echoes through the courtyard. You think you hear the hurried footsteps of servants rushing to obey, but everything is growing quieter, darker.

“Please,” Daemon’s voice cracks, low and desperate. His hand presses against your cheek, his thumb stroking softly, as if willing you to stay awake. “Stay with me, don’t you dare leave me.”

But the pull of darkness is too strong. Your eyes close, and the world fades to nothing.

The world comes back slowly — sounds first, distant murmurs that sharpen into voices. You hear someone shouting, sharp and commanding, a tone you know well. Daemon.

“… If you missed something, I’ll have your head on a spike, Maester!” His voice is laced with barely contained fury, each word like the edge of a blade. “Check her again. Now.”

You blink slowly, your vision still hazy, but familiar shapes begin to take form. The ceiling of your chambers, the soft glow of firelight flickering from a hearth nearby. The scent of lavender and burning wood fills your nose. Your body feels heavy, but warmth surrounds you.

Your eyes shift, and there he is. Daemon stands by the foot of the bed, his eyes wild with barely restrained panic, his jaw set tight as he glares at the old maester hovering by your side. His silver hair is a mess, strands falling over his face, his tunic wrinkled as if he hadn’t cared to fix it. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.

“Daemon,” you call his name softly, your voice barely above a whisper. But it’s enough.

His head snaps toward you so fast you’d think he’d heard a dragon’s roar. His eyes lock onto yours, and all the tension in his face breaks at once. His shoulders drop, and his eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re awake,” he breathes, rushing to your side. “Thank the gods.”

He drops to his knees beside you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with the gentleness of a man who thought he had almost lost something precious. His eyes search yours frantically, like he needs to see every part of you to believe you’re real.

“You scared me,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion. “You terrified me.”

You smile weakly, leaning into his touch, letting the warmth of his hand ground you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

“A scene?” he repeats, his eyes narrowing as he huffs a short, incredulous laugh. “You fainted in front of half the courtyard, and you think that’s a scene?” His eyes flicker with something deeper — fear, relief, and anger all tangled together. “You could’ve died.”

The maester, still cautious under Daemon’s watchful gaze, steps forward. “Her pulse is steady, my prince,” he says carefully, his hands raised as if to calm a dragon. “I believe it was exhaustion, perhaps a fever. But with your leave, I will check her once more.”

Daemon doesn’t move at first, his eyes locked on you as if afraid you’d disappear the moment he blinked. But when you nod, he releases a breath and shifts aside, still holding your hand.

The maester presses his hand against your forehead, checks your pulse, and hums thoughtfully. He glances at you, his brow raised with quiet curiosity. “My lady, have you felt any nausea as of late? Dizziness? Sensitivity to certain smells?”

Your eyes dart to Daemon, then back to the maester. The memory of the past few days flashes through your mind — the dizziness on the stairs, the waves of nausea you had brushed off, and the exhaustion that had clung to you like fog. Slowly, you nod.

“Yes,” you admit softly. “I thought it was nothing.”

The maester hums again, his expression shifting into something more knowing. He presses a hand lightly against your abdomen, glancing at you as he does so. “It may not be ‘nothing,’ my lady,” he says with a small smile. “In fact, it may be everything.”

You blink, confusion flashing across your face. But Daemon is quicker to understand. His eyes dart to your stomach, his lips parting as if he’s about to speak but finds himself momentarily speechless.

“You mean…” His voice trails off, his eyes narrowing at the maester. “Say it plainly, old man.”

The maester smiles as he steps back, folding his hands neatly in front of him. “It is still early, my prince, but I believe congratulations are in order. The lady may very well be with child.”

Silence fills the room, thick and heavy. Daemon stares at you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of doubt, as if needing to see your reaction before he believes it himself.

“With child,” you repeat, your hand slowly drifting to rest on your abdomen. The realization washes over you slowly, warmth spreading through your chest. Your heart beats faster, a mix of nerves and wonder swirling inside you. “I’m… with child.”

Daemon’s face shifts from disbelief to something you’ve never seen before — pure, unguarded joy. He lets out a breathless laugh, his eyes shining with something fierce and untamed. “With my child,” he says, his voice thick with pride and wonder.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he breathes you in. “Our child,” he whispers, his voice trembling just enough for you to notice. “Our blood. Our legacy.”

You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his hands cradling your face like you’re the most precious thing in the world. His lips brush softly against yours, slow and deliberate, before he pulls back just enough to look at you again.

“You’re mine,” he says firmly, as if staking a claim. “You, and now this child, belong to me. No one will ever take you from me.”

His words should sound possessive, but you hear the love behind them — the desperation of a man who has lost too much and refuses to lose again. You nod, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“And you,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “You belong to me too, Daemon Targaryen.”

His grin is sharp and wild, full of pride and love. “Always, love. Always.”

You sit by the warm glow of the fireplace, the soft crackling of the flames filling the quiet chamber. Your hands rest gently on your rounded belly, your fingers tracing slow, soothing circles over the fabric of your gown. It’s been five months since you learned of your pregnancy, and though the changes to your body were gradual at first, there’s no hiding it now. Your belly is firm, round, and undeniable — the unmistakable mark of a child growing within you.

Daemon sits across from you, his eyes never straying far. He leans back in his chair, legs spread casually, one hand holding a cup of wine, the other lazily draped over the armrest. But his gaze is sharp, focused entirely on you. His eyes soften when they meet yours, a small, knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re staring,” you say, your voice carrying the light tease of familiarity.

He tilts his head, his smirk growing bolder. “How could I not?” he replies, his eyes flicking down to your belly. “You’re carrying the future of House Targaryen and House Tyrell in that little frame of yours. It’s quite the sight.”

You huff a laugh, brushing a hand over your stomach. “If it gets any bigger, I won’t be able to stand without help.”

Daemon raises a brow, his grin wicked. “Then I suppose I’ll have to carry you everywhere, won’t I?”

You shake your head, unable to stop the smile pulling at your lips. His confidence is relentless, but you know his words aren’t empty. He’d carry you across all of Westeros if you asked.

For a while, the two of you sit in comfortable silence. The fire casts dancing shadows on the stone walls, and you feel the gentle thrum of life within you — small movements, faint but unmistakable. You place a hand firmly over the spot and smile.

“Daemon,” you say softly, looking up at him. His gaze sharpens instantly, like he’s ready for anything. “It’s time, isn’t it? We should tell them.”

His eyes narrow slightly, as if weighing the idea. “You’re certain?” he asks, setting his wine aside and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Once they know, the whispers will spread. Our child will be at the center of it all.”

“I know,” you reply, voice steady but firm. “But I don’t want to hide it anymore. This is our child, Daemon. They will have to accept it.”

Daemon studies you for a moment, his eyes flickering between pride and protectiveness. Then, slowly, he nods. “Very well,” he says, standing and walking over to you. His hand extends toward you, palm up. “Shall we make them bow to our legacy, my lady?”

You smile, placing your hand in his. He pulls you up gently, one arm curling protectively around your waist to steady you. “They will bow,” you reply, your voice filled with quiet determination. “They always do.”

You and Daemon prepare to leave Dragonstone and make your way back to the Red Keep. The journey ahead seems long, but your mind is focused on the upcoming announcement. You know that today, you will finally share the news of your pregnancy with the royal family and the court. It’s a moment you’ve been anticipating, though a part of you feels a bit nervous about the attention it will bring.

The pregnancy, however, hasn’t been easy. The baby seems incredibly active, a constant reminder of the life growing inside you. At night, when the world falls silent, the tiny kicks and movements keep you wide awake, and though the thought of carrying Daemon’s child fills you with love, the exhaustion from sleepless nights weighs heavily on you. You’ve grown accustomed to his reassuring presence, his hand resting on your stomach as he murmurs comforting words whenever the baby moves restlessly.

Daemon, always attentive, notices your fatigue as you pack. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, concern flashing across his face. He steps closer, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his eyes softening. “You’ve barely slept these past nights.”

You smile up at him, grateful for his constant care. “I’m fine, just tired,” you reply, trying to mask the truth. “It’s just that our little one seems to be more active than expected.”

Daemon chuckles softly, his thumb gently stroking your hand. “A fighter, just like their father,” he says with a smirk. “They’ll be strong.”

Despite his teasing tone, you can see the pride in his eyes. He’s looking forward to being a father, though he won’t admit it outright. You’re sure that, deep down, he’s just as eager for the day when you can finally share this joy with the rest of the realm.

As you prepare to leave, Daemon’s hand finds its place on the small of your back, guiding you through the halls of Dragonstone. His presence is a constant comfort, a solid anchor that helps you feel steady despite the whirlwind of emotions and changes that come with your pregnancy.

“Let’s get to the Red Keep,” Daemon says, his voice a soft command. “It’s time.”

You nod, though your mind is full of thoughts and worries about what awaits you. But for now, all you need is Daemon by your side—just as he always has been. Together, you make your way to the waiting ship, and as you board, you take one last look at the land you’ve called home for so long before turning your gaze ahead, to the future that awaits you both in King’s Landing.

The journey by ship proves to be much more difficult than you anticipated, especially while pregnant. Despite the fact that it’s a relatively short trip, the constant rocking of the boat leaves you feeling nauseous and exhausted. The salty air, though refreshing for most, seems to exacerbate your discomfort, and you clutch the railing tightly as a wave of dizziness washes over you.

Daemon, noticing your discomfort, approaches quickly, his face filled with concern. “You should rest,” he insists softly, his hand on your back as he guides you to a seat. “The sea isn’t kind to those with child.”

You give him a tired smile, trying to brush off your unease. “I’m fine, Daemon. Just a bit of nausea. It’ll pass.”

But Daemon isn’t convinced. He kneels before you, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for any sign of further distress. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Let me help.”

He places a gentle hand on your stomach, his touch grounding you as he speaks with a soft authority, “Rest, my love. I’ll be here.”

Reluctantly, you lean back against the cushioned seat, allowing yourself to close your eyes and rest. Daemon remains close by, his presence a source of comfort. Though the rocking of the ship doesn’t stop, his soothing words and touch help ease the discomfort. You focus on his steady presence, allowing the steady rhythm of his voice to lull you into a moment of calm.

Time seems to blur as the journey continues, but you’re grateful that Daemon is there, taking care of you. His concern is unwavering, and even though he can’t control the sea, you know he will always do his best to protect you and your child.

After a while, the worst of the nausea passes, and you feel able to sit up again. The horizon begins to show signs of King’s Landing in the distance, and though the trip wasn’t the easiest, the thought of being close to your destination gives you a sense of relief.

“We’re almost there,” Daemon says, his hand gently resting over yours.

You nod, still a bit fatigued but glad to be nearing the end of this journey. “I just hope I can make it through the announcement without embarrassing myself,” you say with a light laugh, trying to push aside the lingering discomfort.

Daemon chuckles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ll do just fine,” he reassures you. “And I’ll be right by your side.”

As the carriage rolls through the familiar streets of King’s Landing, you feel a sense of anticipation building within you. The city is bustling with activity, and though you are returning to a place filled with memories, this time everything feels different. You are not just returning as a member of the family—you’re a wife, carrying Daemon’s child.

Daemon’s hand never leaves yours, his fingers gently gripping yours as if to reassure both you and himself. He occasionally rests his other hand on your growing belly, his touch warm and comforting. Each gentle caress brings you a sense of peace, easing the lingering discomfort from the journey.

You glance at him, a soft smile on your face, and he looks down at you with an expression of quiet affection. His eyes are filled with a rare tenderness as he watches over you, his usual confident demeanor softened by the love he has for you and your unborn child.

“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly, his voice laced with concern. Though he’s done his best to shield you from any discomfort, you can see the worry in his gaze.

“I’m alright,” you reply with a reassuring smile, “just a bit tired. But I’m happy we’re finally here.”

Daemon gives you a small nod, but his gaze lingers on your face, his thumb brushing along the curve of your belly. “I will make sure everything goes smoothly,” he promises. “You don’t need to worry about anything.

The carriage jolts slightly as it turns toward the Red Keep, and you feel a sudden wave of nerves. The announcement of your pregnancy is fast approaching, and you know that soon, all eyes will be on you. Daemon notices your subtle shift in mood and squeezes your hand gently.

“Whatever happens,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring, “we will face it together.”

You smile at him, grateful for his strength and presence. As the Red Keep looms closer, you feel ready. With Daemon by your side, you know you can face anything the future holds.

You’re taken by surprise as the carriage comes to a halt. Before you can even step down, Daemon swoops you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly. The sudden movement startles you, and you instinctively swat at his shoulder in protest.

“Daemon!” you exclaim, though there’s a mix of laughter and disbelief in your voice. “What are you doing? I can walk on my own!”

But Daemon, with that familiar mischievous smile, simply tightens his hold on you. “You’ve had a long journey. The least I can do is carry you to the Red Keep.” His tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying tenderness in his words. He doesn’t wait for any further protest before he addresses a nearby guard.

“Go,” he commands, “gather my father and my grandfather in the throne room. It’s time.”

The guard nods quickly and hurries off to fulfill the order. Daemon doesn’t hesitate as he continues carrying you towards the entrance of the Red Keep. You can feel the eyes of the castle’s residents on you, some surprised, others whispering, but Daemon pays them no mind. His focus is entirely on you, and you can’t help but smile at the attention, even though you’re still a little flustered by his boldness.

“Daemon, seriously,” you say, laughing as you rest your head against his chest. “I can walk. You don’t have to carry me like this.”

But Daemon only chuckles softly, the sound rich with affection. “You’re carrying my child. The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable, even if it means looking like a fool in front of everyone.”

You shake your head at his words, but there’s a warmth in your heart that spreads every time he speaks like this. His care for you—and for your child—shines through in everything he does.

As you reach the throne room, Daemon gently places you down, and you both enter, ready to make the announcement you’ve been anticipating. The weight of the moment lingers in the air as the doors close behind you.

When you finally enter the throne room, the air shifts. The room is filled with the sound of conversation, clinking cups, and footsteps echoing on stone. King Jaehaerys sits on the Iron Throne, his wise, tired eyes watching all who enter. Prince Baelon stands nearby, deep in conversation with the Hand of the King — Otto Hightower.

The moment you and Daemon cross the threshold, silence falls. All eyes turn to you.

Daemon’s arm tightens around you as he leads you forward, his steps slow and deliberate, every movement calculated for effect. You lift your chin, refusing to shrink under the weight of their gazes. Every eye is on you, and you meet them all without hesitation.

“Father,” Daemon says as he stops before the king, his voice clear and commanding. “Grandfather.” He looks to Jaehaerys, his tone carrying the weight of unspoken meaning.

The king leans forward, his brows lifting with curiosity. “Daemon,” he says, his voice slow but firm. “What is this interruption? What do you wish to declare before the court?”

Daemon looks at you then — only you. His eyes soften, and the barest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Turning back to face the king, he says loud enough for all to hear:

“We come with news of House Targaryen’s future. My wife,” he says, tilting his head toward you, “is with child.”

A ripple of gasps echoes through the hall, followed by murmurs that spread like wildfire. Your hand rests on your belly, your gaze steady, unyielding as you watch their faces shift from shock to recognition.

King Jaehaerys’s brows rise high, surprise flashing across his face. His eyes flick to your belly, then to Daemon, and finally back to you. Slowly, a smile begins to spread across his face. “A child,” he repeats, his voice growing louder as he leans back into the Iron Throne. “A child of fire and rose petals.” He laughs, a deep, hearty sound. “You have done well, Daemon. And you, my dear, you have done better.”

Baelon grins broadly, stepping forward with a clap of his hands. “A new dragon is always cause for celebration,” he declares, looking between you and Daemon. “The gods have blessed you both.”

But not everyone is smiling.

Otto Hightower’s face remains stone-cold, his sharp eyes flicking between Daemon and you. His fingers tap lightly against his sleeve, his mind clearly working through the implications. He does not congratulate you, but he does not dare speak out either — not here, not now.

As you and Daemon walk toward your old chambers, there’s a comforting quiet between you two. The weight of the announcement has settled, and now, you can feel the moment becoming more intimate, more personal. Daemon helps you sit by the fireplace, his strong presence beside you grounding you in a way only he can.

He watches you carefully, his eyes soft with concern and affection. The crackling of the fire fills the silence for a moment before Daemon speaks, his voice low and steady.

“I will not leave you for a single moment,” he says, his words filled with such intensity that they seem to echo in the room. “Not now, not ever. You’re carrying our child, and I will be here, by your side, through everything.”

You smile gently, touched by his promise. The weight of the world feels lighter when he’s with you, and the thought of raising a child together fills you with warmth. Daemon’s devotion is clear in his words and actions, and you feel a deep sense of peace knowing that, no matter what the future holds, you won’t have to face it alone.

Daemon reaches for your hand, gently intertwining his fingers with yours. “I will protect you, and I will protect our child. You have my word,” he adds, his voice filled with unwavering certainty.

You look into his eyes, and in that moment, you know that you are exactly where you’re meant to be. No matter what challenges come your way, Daemon will be by your side, just as he promised. The love between you both is unwavering, and with that love, you feel ready to face whatever comes next.

You and Daemon turn to see the door open, revealing Prince Viserys, Princess Aemma, and their daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, who is just 10 months old. The warmth in their eyes is immediate, and you can see the genuine joy as they come forward to congratulate you. Aemma, in particular, seems taken aback when she sees how much your belly has grown.

“Oh, my dear,” she exclaims, her eyes widening. “You’re quite large already! How many months along are you?” She smiles gently as she steps closer, her hand instinctively resting on her own belly. “You may be carrying twins, perhaps?”

Daemon chuckles softly, his hand tightening around yours. He shoots Aemma a playful look, but there’s also a hint of pride in his gaze.

“I don’t think it’s twins, but she certainly makes the pregnancy look easy, doesn’t she?” he responds with a lighthearted grin, though there’s tenderness behind his words as he watches you.

You smile, feeling the love and excitement in the room. Aemma’s question is followed by Rhaenyra, who babbles softly in her mother’s arms, her curious eyes shifting toward you and the growing bump.

Viserys, ever the wise and gentle prince, smiles warmly as he steps forward to offer his congratulations as well. “Congratulations, my dear,” he says, his voice filled with fatherly affection. “It is a joyous occasion for our family, and we are thrilled for you both.”

Daemon gives you a reassuring smile as he squeezes your hand, standing proudly beside you as your family surrounds you with love. The room is filled with joy, and for a moment, it feels like everything is in its right place, the world ahead of you brighter with each passing moment.

After the departure of Aemma and Viserys, you find yourself lost in thought, reflecting on Aemma’s earlier comment about carrying twins. You couldn’t help but wonder if she might be right. The thought lingers in your mind, and the curiosity grows.

You turn to Daemon, who has been beside you, supportive as always, and ask, “Daemon, could you please have the maester check on me? I keep thinking about what Aemma said… could I really be carrying twins?”

Daemon looks at you with concern, but his eyes soften with understanding. “Of course, my love,” he says, his voice gentle but steady. “I’ll send for him right away.”

Not long after, the maester arrives and begins his examination. You hold your breath, waiting for his verdict. After a few moments, he looks up from his work, a slight smile on his face.

“It appears that you are indeed carrying twins, my lady,” he confirms. “Your body is showing signs of it, and the examination has revealed two heartbeats.”

Daemon’s eyes widen in surprise, but there’s an undeniable spark of joy in his gaze as he turns to you. His hand instinctively reaches out to yours, his grip firm, yet tender. “Twins,” he repeats softly, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Our family will grow even stronger.”

You can’t help but smile at the news, the thought of two little lives growing inside you filling you with a sense of awe and excitement. “Twins…” you whisper, feeling the weight of the news settling in your heart. “It’s going to be quite the journey.”

Daemon nods, his expression one of complete devotion. “Whatever it takes, we will face it together,” he says, his voice firm and full of love. “And our children will be loved beyond measure.”You and Daemon walk hand in hand through the grand corridors of the Red Keep, the soft glow of torches lighting your path. Your heart feels lighter knowing that tonight is a celebration, not just for your safe return but for the lives growing within you. Daemon’s thumb gently rubs the back of your hand, a silent gesture of reassurance and love.

When you reach the King’s private solar, the guards open the doors, revealing a warm, lively scene. The King, Prince Baelon, Princess Aemma, and a few members of the royal family are already seated, their conversation filled with light laughter and the clinking of wine cups. The air smells of roasted meat, sweet honeyed bread, and spices from across the Narrow Sea.

“Ah, there they are!” King Jaehaerys says with a smile, gesturing for you to enter. “Come, sit. We were just speaking of Dragonstone and its rough seas.”

Daemon leads you to your seat, pulling out a chair beside Princess Aemma. She smiles warmly at you, her eyes glancing down at your growing belly. “You look radiant,” she says with a soft voice, leaning in to whisper, “Motherhood suits you already.”

“Thank you, Aemma,” you reply, your cheeks warming at her kind words. You glance at Daemon, who sits beside you, his eyes scanning the room.

Once everyone is seated and the servants have poured wine and served food, Daemon stands, raising his cup with a sharp grin on his face. His gaze shifts from the King to his father, Prince Baelon, before settling on you. His voice cuts through the air with ease, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

“I have news to share,” he declares, glancing down at you with a soft smile before turning back to the others. “Not only have we returned safely from Dragonstone, but my wife carries not one, but two heirs of House Targaryen and House Tyrell within her.”

The room falls silent for a moment, then erupts into cheers and applause. King Jaehaerys laughs heartily, his voice echoing through the solar. “Twins! The gods have truly blessed you both.” He raises his cup higher. “To the future of House Targaryen and House Tyrell!”

“To the future!” the others echo, their cups raised in unison.

Aemma turns to you with wide eyes, her face a mixture of surprise and excitement. “Twins? No wonder you look as you do,” she says, glancing at your belly with newfound understanding. “I knew it the moment I saw you. You’re carrying them well, truly.”

“Thank you, Aemma,” you say with a smile, resting a hand on your belly. “They’ve been restless, but I can feel their strength. I suppose it runs in their blood.”

Daemon sits beside you again, his hand resting protectively on your lower back. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “They’ll be strong, like their mother.”

Your heart swells at his words, and as you look around the table filled with smiling faces, you realize that this moment will stay with you forever. The joy of family, the promise of new life, and the unwavering love of your husband — it all fills the room with a warmth greater than any fire.

The moment feels surreal, but there is a deep sense of happiness in the air, and you both know that your lives have just become even more intertwined, not just as husband and wife, but as parents preparing to welcome two new souls into the world.

As you and Daemon sit at the table, the warmth of the fire and the clinking of cups around you create a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Laughter echoes from the king and Baelon as they recall old stories, but your attention is solely on Daemon. His gaze is fixed on you, his lips curled into a sly smile.

“I should have known you were with child the moment Caraxes coiled himself around you,” Daemon says, his eyes glinting with amusement. He leans back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the back of your seat, his fingers lightly playing with a loose strand of your hair. “That beast never lets anyone near him unless I command it, but with you… he acted as if you were his hatchling.”

You laugh softly, remembering that moment. “I thought he was going to eat me,” you admit, shaking your head with a fond smile. “But then he lowered his head and nudged me like I was one of his own. I suppose he knew before any of us did.”

“Dragons always know,” Prince Baelon adds, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “They sense life in ways men cannot. It is why they bond so deeply with their riders.” He raises his cup to you both. “If Caraxes sees fit to protect you, then there is no safer place in the world than by your husband’s side.”

Daemon tilts his head, his grin growing wider. “Safer, perhaps, but not quieter. The twins have made sure of that,” he teases, glancing at your belly. “They’ve been keeping her awake every night with their little war games in there.”

“Already battling for dominance, are they?” Aemma chuckles, resting her chin on her hand. “They’ll make fine Targaryens, then.”

“Or Tyrells,” you add with a playful raise of your brow, earning a round of laughter from the table.

Daemon looks down at you, his gaze softening. His fingers trail from your hair to your shoulder, his touch gentle but firm. “They’ll be the best of both,” he says quietly, his voice filled with certainty.

You lean into his side, letting his warmth seep into you. As the conversation flows back into tales of Dragonstone’s storms and your quiet days by the sea, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. These moments — the love of family, the bond you share with Daemon, and the promise of new life — are treasures you will protect fiercely, just as Caraxes had protected you.

You and Daemon asked permission to go to your rooms first, Daemon said that you needed to rest after the journey you took from Dragonstone to here. As you and Daemon walk hand in hand through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, the cool night air drifts in from the open windows. The faint glow of torches flickers against the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance with each step. The gentle breeze carries the fresh scent of the sea, a reminder of your recent journey from Dragonstone.

Daemon’s thumb brushes over the back of your hand, his grip firm but tender. He glances at you, his eyes filled with quiet concern. “Are you tired, my love?” he asks, his voice low and warm, as if he’s afraid to disturb the peace of the night.

“A little,” you admit, resting your head lightly on his shoulder as you walk. “But it feels good to be home.”

He hums in agreement, his gaze fixed ahead, but you catch the slight tug of a smile on his lips. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t have had to sit through all those pleasantries tonight,” he says with a hint of frustration. “The king could have celebrated without us. Your rest is far more important.”

You chuckle softly, tilting your head up to look at him. “You know we couldn’t refuse. Besides, the king was happy to see us.”

Daemon lets out a small, reluctant sigh but doesn’t argue. His free hand moves to your lower back, steadying you as you walk. “I suppose,” he mutters, glancing down at your growing belly. “But from now on, you’ll rest when you need to. No one will dare object, not even the king himself.”

You roll your eyes at his protectiveness but feel a warmth bloom in your chest. He has been more attentive than ever since learning you were carrying twins. No request, no matter how small, was ignored.

As you approach the door to your shared chambers, two guards stationed at the entrance bow their heads respectfully before pushing open the heavy wooden doors. The room is dimly lit with the soft glow of a hearth fire, its warmth chasing away the chill of the evening air.

Daemon steps inside first, his eyes scanning the room before turning back to you. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you step in. “Straight to bed,” he orders softly, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “No arguments.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply, your voice laced with playful defiance.

He raises a brow, his eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “Hmm, I’ll hold you to that.”

With careful precision, he helps you to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling before you to remove your shoes himself. His touch is gentle, his fingers lingering on your ankles a moment longer than necessary. When he looks up at you, there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your heart ache with love.

“You’ve done enough for one day,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your knee. “Let me take care of you now.”

You smile down at him, your fingers threading through his silver hair. “You already do, Daemon. Every day.”

He tilts his head into your touch, eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment. Then, with one smooth movement, he stands and helps you further onto the bed, pulling the covers over you. He joins you a moment later, his arms wrapping around you from behind, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

“You and the twins,” he whispers, his voice laced with affection. “My whole world."

You sigh contentedly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. The warmth of his embrace, the soft crackle of the fire, and the steady beat of his heart lull you into peace. Here, in this moment, with Daemon’s arms around you, the weight of the world feels a little lighter.

Time seems to pass in the blink of an eye. Your belly, once a subtle swell, has now grown large and heavy with the weight of the twins you carry. Every movement feels like a challenge, and walking even a few paces leaves you breathless. Daemon, ever the protective husband, has declared that you are to remain in your chambers at all times. No council meetings, no strolls through the gardens — not even a visit to the balcony without him at your side.

Your mother has recently arrived from Highgarden, her presence as comforting as the scent of fresh blooms in spring. She sits beside you now, her hands expertly braiding your hair as she did when you were a child. Her touch is gentle, but her voice carries its usual firmness.

“You mustn’t push yourself, dear,” she says, her gaze focused on her work. “Carrying one child is hard enough, but two? You need all the strength you can gather for what lies ahead.”

You nod, resting your hands on the curve of your belly, feeling the subtle shifts and kicks of your unborn children. “I know, Mother. But I feel so restless. Being confined to one room all day is maddening.”

She hums in sympathy, securing the braid with a small ribbon. “I know it is. I was much the same when I carried you and your brother. But trust me, you’ll be grateful for every moment of rest when the babes arrive. They will demand more of you than any lord or lady ever could.”

Her words make you smile despite yourself. “I can handle it. I have Daemon, and now I have you.”

Your mother leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, you do. And you are stronger than you think, my sweet girl.”

Just then, the door creaks open, and you glance up to see Daemon entering the room. His armor is gone, replaced with a simple black tunic, his hair slightly damp from a recent wash. His eyes scan the room, and when he sees you sitting comfortably with your mother, his shoulders relax.

“How are my three loves?” he asks, crossing the room in a few long strides. He kneels before you, his hands settling on your belly, his palms warm and grounding. His eyes flicker to your mother, and he offers her a polite nod. “Lady Tyrell.”

“Prince Daemon,” she replies with a small smile. “Your wife is growing restless, as expected.”

Daemon smirks, his gaze locking with yours. “Is that so? I warned you, didn’t I? No wandering about, no sneaking off to see the training yard.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin. “I haven’t stepped a foot outside this room, husband. Not even to the balcony.”

“Good,” he says, his hands tracing gentle circles over your belly. “Our little warriors have been making trouble, I see.” His eyes soften as he feels a strong kick against his palm. “Eager to meet their father, are they?”

You watch him with quiet affection. It’s moments like this, when Daemon’s sharp edges soften with love, that you feel most at peace. Your mother watches the two of you with a knowing smile before rising from her chair.

“I’ll leave you two for now,” she says, smoothing the front of her dress. “But call for me if you need anything, darling.”

“Thank you, Mother,” you say as she departs, leaving only you and Daemon in the quiet glow of the room.

Daemon shifts, sitting beside you on the bed, his arm slipping around your shoulders to pull you against him. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His other hand stays on your belly, feeling every small movement of your children.

“Are you afraid?” he asks softly, his voice a rare whisper.

You think for a moment, then shake your head. “Not afraid. Just… uncertain. I’ve never done this before, and there are two of them.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Stronger than any knight with a sword.” His hand tilts your chin up so he can look into your eyes, his gaze unwavering. “You’ll bring them into this world, and I’ll be right here. Every moment. Every breath.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, letting out a soft laugh. “If you cry when they’re born, I’ll never let you forget it.”

Daemon grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “If they have your eyes, I just might.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence, the warmth of his embrace lulling you into calm. The weight of the world outside the room melts away. Here, with Daemon’s steady presence and the promise of your mother’s support, you feel ready to face anything.

Even the challenge of bringing two little dragons into the world.

The next morning, boredom settles over you like an unwelcome guest. The same four walls, the same view from the window, and the same well-meaning advice to “rest” have begun to wear on your patience. You glance toward the door, a spark of defiance flickering in your heart.

“I just want some fresh air,” you mutter to yourself, running your hand over the curve of your belly. The weight is undeniable, every step a little heavier than the last, but you refuse to let it stop you.

With the help of your ever-dutiful maids, you rise slowly from the cushioned chair, your body protesting with every shift of weight. One of the maids, a kind girl with gentle hands, offers her arm for support. “My lady, should I inform the prince of your walk?”

You shake your head. “If Daemon finds out, he’ll lock me in this room himself.” Your tone is light, but you know it isn’t far from the truth.

The maid hesitates but nods, her grip on your arm steady as you take your first steps. Each movement is slow, deliberate. The hallways of the Red Keep seem to stretch endlessly before you, but for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of freedom.

Servants pause as you pass, their eyes wide with surprise. Some bow their heads respectfully, while others glance at one another as if silently debating whether to alert Prince Daemon. You ignore them all, your gaze focused forward, step after step.

The cool stone beneath your feet and the faint draft of air are small reminders that you are not a prisoner, no matter how much Daemon worries for you. You walk further, passing familiar banners and tapestries, the clang of distant swords from the training yard faint but comforting.

“She shouldn’t be out here,” you hear a voice whisper behind you. “She’s due any day now.”

You don’t look back, only lifting your head a little higher. Let them whisper, you think. I am no fragile flower.

As you reach a balcony overlooking the training yard, you pause, leaning against the stone railing. Below, you spot Daemon, his silver hair catching the sun like polished steel. He’s sparring with Ser Lorence Roxton, their movements sharp and powerful. Each swing of Daemon’s sword is as precise as it is forceful, a dance of deadly grace.

Your heart swells with pride as you watch him. He moves as if the weight of the world is nothing to him — unlike you, burdened with the weight of two small lives within you. Yet somehow, watching him move with such confidence gives you strength.

He doesn’t see you at first, too focused on his opponent. But then, as if sensing your presence, his head turns sharply in your direction. His eyes narrow.

“Seven hells,” you hear him mutter before he throws his sword to the ground and storms toward the stairs leading up to you.

Your maids glance at each other nervously. “Should we—”

“Stay where you are,” you say calmly, folding your hands atop your belly.

Moments later, Daemon appears before you, his chest heaving from exertion, a light sheen of sweat on his brow. His gaze shifts from your face to your belly, then back to your face, his jaw set in a hard line.

“You were supposed to be resting,” he says, his voice low but firm.

“And I’ve been doing that for weeks,” you reply with equal firmness. “I needed to walk, Daemon. I’m not made of porcelain.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with surprising gentleness. “You’re carrying my children,” he says, his voice softer now, though still edged with worry. “You’re more precious than Valyrian steel, and twice as fragile right now.”

You raise a brow at him. “Then perhaps you should forge me into a sword, husband. I’m no frail thing to be locked away.”

Daemon stares at you for a moment before letting out a low, amused chuckle. His hand moves to your belly, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles. The babies respond with a sudden kick, and he blinks in surprise.

“That one’s a fighter,” he says with a grin.

“Like their father,” you reply, your eyes softening.

He sighs, pressing his forehead lightly against yours. “Fine,” he relents. “But if you feel even the slightest pain, you call for me.”

“Always,” you promise.

Daemon’s arm snakes around your back, and he guides you slowly back toward your chambers. No matter how independent you try to be, you lean into him, letting him bear some of the weight. Just this once.

As you two walk slowly through the familiar halls of the Red Keep, your hand resting lightly on Daemon’s arm, you can’t help but voice your frustration.

“I’ve been cooped up in that chamber for far too long, Daemon,” you huff, your tone carrying a hint of playful defiance. “Is it really so dangerous for me to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on my face?”

Daemon arches a brow, his lips twitching as if fighting back a smile. “The sun will still be there tomorrow, wife. You, however, are one slip away from being carried back to that chamber in my arms.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You already carry me enough as it is. Let me walk.”

His grip tightens protectively on your waist, and just as you prepare to argue further, your attention is drawn to the sound of laughter. A soft, innocent giggle followed by the familiar voice of Aemma.

Turning your head, you spot her in the lush green garden just beyond the archway, sitting on a blanket with little Rhaenyra crawling excitedly toward a cluster of flowers. Her chubby hands reach for them, and she squeals with delight when she manages to grab a soft pink petal. Aemma’s face lights up with joy as she guides Rhaenyra gently, careful not to let her crush the delicate blooms.

Your heart warms at the sight, and you slow your steps. You glance up at Daemon with wide, pleading eyes, tugging lightly at his sleeve.

“Please, Daemon,” you whisper, tilting your head like a cat asking for affection. “Let me stay with them, just for a little while.”

Daemon follows your gaze toward Aemma and Rhaenyra. For a moment, he says nothing, his lips pressed into a line as he considers. His eyes flicker back to you, filled with hesitation.

“You’ll sit,” he says at last, his voice firm but not unkind. “No standing, no walking about. If I see you on your feet for more than a moment, I’ll carry you back myself.”

You nod quickly, a grin spreading across your face. “Deal.”

Daemon sighs in defeat, clearly unable to deny you anything. He leads you toward the garden with slow, careful steps. Aemma notices you approaching and waves cheerfully, her face bright with warmth.

“Look who’s come to join us,” she says with a smile. “I thought you’d be resting.”

“I’ve rested more than enough for one lifetime,” you reply as you lower yourself carefully onto the soft blanket with Daemon’s help. Once seated, you let out a contented sigh, leaning back against a plush cushion one of the maids swiftly provides. “I saw you both and couldn’t resist.”

Rhaenyra, curious as ever, turns her wide violet eyes toward you. Her gaze lands on your belly, and she crawls over with surprising speed. Her tiny hands press curiously against your swollen stomach.

“Ba,” she babbles, tilting her head as if trying to understand. She pats your belly again with more determination, her face scrunched up in concentration.

“She knows there’s someone in there,” Aemma says with a soft laugh, leaning forward to adjust Rhaenyra’s hair. “Or two, in your case.”

You glance at Aemma and smile knowingly, placing your hand over Rhaenyra’s. The baby stares at the motion, eyes wide with wonder. Then, as if on cue, one of the twins in your belly gives a strong, sudden kick right where Rhaenyra’s hand rests.

The little girl gasps, pulling her hand back in shock before letting out a delighted giggle. She claps her hands together and points to your belly. “Ba! Ba!”

Aemma laughs, her eyes crinkling with joy. “She thinks they’re playing with her.”

“Perhaps they are,” you muse, rubbing gentle circles over the spot where the kick came from. “These two are as mischievous as their father.”

Daemon snorts, sitting on the edge of the blanket. “They’ll be clever, not mischievous,” he corrects, though there’s a hint of pride in his voice. His eyes flicker to your belly, his hand briefly resting atop it. “They already know how to get attention, after all.”

“Like their father,” Aemma teases, her gaze flicking to Daemon with playful mischief.

Daemon raises a brow at her but says nothing, his smirk betraying his amusement.

The four of you sit together in peaceful silence for a while, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the sweet babbling of little Rhaenyra as she explores the flowers around her. Your eyes drift closed, the warmth of the sun on your skin lulling you into a calm, dreamlike state.

“Are you tired?” Daemon’s voice is close to your ear, soft but attentive.

You hum in response, your head leaning against his shoulder. “Not tired. Just… content.”

He wraps an arm around you, his fingers trailing lightly along your back in slow, soothing patterns. “Good,” he murmurs. “Then stay like this for a while. The world can wait.”

And for now, you believe him.

You tilt your head back to meet Daemon’s gaze, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. His eyes narrow with suspicion, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“I’m not a prisoner, Daemon,” you say lightly, resting a hand on his arm. “Go back to your training. I’ll stay right here, I promise.”

He arches a brow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ll stay seated?”

“Yes, I’ll stay seated,” you reply, your tone sweet but firm. “I won’t stand, I won’t walk, and if I need anything, I’ll have the maids or guards fetch you.” You gesture to the maids and guards stationed nearby as proof. “See? Plenty of eyes on me. I’m perfectly safe.”

Daemon stares at you for a long moment, his violet eyes scanning your face as if searching for any sign of deceit. You stare back with innocent determination, unyielding.

Finally, he sighs heavily, running a hand down his face. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“And you love me for it,” you counter with a grin, earning a short, breathy laugh from him.

“I do,” he admits, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there for a moment longer than usual, warm and soft against your skin. “But if I see you on your feet, I won’t hesitate to carry you back inside.”

You wave him off, feigning exasperation. “Yes, yes, my fearsome husband, everyone has heard your threats. Now, go.”

Daemon snorts but stands, giving you one last look — a warning glance that says, Don’t test me — before turning on his heel and striding back toward the training grounds. His silver hair catches the light of the sun, and you watch him until he disappears from view.

Satisfied, you lean back against the cushion behind you, letting out a soft sigh of relief. Your hand comes to rest on your belly, your fingers tracing small circles over the taut skin. You can already feel one of the twins stirring inside, pressing against you with a gentle but firm push.

“Yes, little one,” you murmur quietly, gazing down at your belly with a soft smile. “He’s always like that. But he means well.”

One of the maids approaches, holding a cool drink in her hands. She kneels beside you, offering it with a polite bow.

“Shall I call for the prince if you need anything, my lady?” she asks, glancing toward the direction where Daemon disappeared.

“No need,” you reply, taking the cup and sipping slowly. “He’s watching even when he’s not here.”

The maid smiles knowingly, stepping aside to give you privacy.

You recline comfortably, feeling the warmth of the sun, the steady flutter of life within you, and the distant sounds of swords clashing on the training grounds. Even though Daemon has gone back to his duties, you feel his presence as if he’s still right there beside you.

You squirmed slowly in your seat, the pain and discomfort returning. You slowly rubbed your stomach and controlled your breathing. Aemma’s expression shifts instantly from serene to serious, her brows knitting in concern.

"Do you feel uncomfortable ot pain?" you nodded and smiled. "Since earlier, maybe because I was walking to the training yard."

She turns to face you fully, her eyes scanning you carefully. “Since earlier?” she asks, her tone gentle but firm. “Where exactly is the pain? Is it sharp or dull? Does it come and go?”

You take a slow breath, pressing a hand against your swollen belly. “It’s more like a tightening,” you admit. “At first, I thought it was just the babies shifting, but it’s been happening more often. It comes, stays for a moment, and then fades.”

Aemma’s eyes widen slightly, and she sits up straighter, her gaze sharp with experience. “Those sound like contractions,” she says, voice calm but with an underlying urgency. “Did your back start aching too?”

You nod slowly, realization dawning on you. “Yes… I thought it was just from walking too much.”

Aemma reaches for your hand, squeezing it firmly. “That’s how it starts,” she says, her voice gentle but commanding. “We need to get you back to your chambers now. It could be nothing, but if it’s something, you don’t want to be far from the maester.” She glances over her shoulder, waving toward one of the guards nearby. “Fetch the maester and tell Prince Daemon his wife needs him. Now.”

The guard bows quickly and rushes off. You can hear the urgency in his footsteps, and it only makes your heart race faster. You grip Aemma’s hand tightly, your breathing shallow.

“It’s too early, isn’t it?” you whisper, a hint of fear creeping into your voice. “They’re not supposed to come for a few more weeks.”

Aemma squeezes your hand again, her eyes meeting yours with a steady, reassuring gaze. “Sometimes babies have their own plans,” she says softly. “But listen to me — you are strong, stronger than you know. You’ll be fine, and so will they.” She places a hand on your belly, her fingers gentle but firm. “Breathe with me, slowly, in and out. We’ll get you back to your chambers.”

Her words steady you, and you nod, exhaling slowly as she helps you stand. Your legs feel unsteady, but Aemma is right there, her arm around you for support. Two more guards approach to help, one on each side.

The tightening in your belly comes again, sharper this time, and you gasp, clutching at Aemma’s arm. “It hurts,” you mutter through gritted teeth, leaning forward slightly as the pain grips you.

Aemma presses her forehead lightly against the side of yours, grounding you with her presence. “I know, I know,” she murmurs. “Just breathe. Slow and steady. You’ll be back in your chambers before the next one comes.”

Your heart pounds as you’re guided back toward the keep. Each step feels heavier than the last, and you’re dimly aware of voices calling for Daemon, the clatter of footsteps on stone, and the worried looks of servants and guards. But your world narrows to Aemma’s calm, steady voice.

“You’re doing so well,” she says, her words soothing even as you feel the panic clawing at the edge of your mind. “Daemon will be there. He’ll be right by your side.”

You nod, your breath hitching as another wave of pain crashes through you. “He… he better be,” you manage to say through the pain, forcing a small smile despite it all.

Aemma smiles back, her eyes filled with pride and quiet strength. “He will,” she promises, her tone unshakable. “He always is.”

The chamber feels warmer than usual, the air thick with the scent of burning candles and fresh linens. You pace back and forth, one hand pressed firmly against the small of your back, the other gripping the edge of a chair for support. The tight, rhythmic pain that pulses through your belly is growing sharper and more frequent. Sweat beads on your brow, and your breaths come in short, strained bursts.

“Daemon!” you call out, voice cracking with urgency as another contraction grips you. Your legs tremble, and you brace yourself against the bedpost, squeezing it so hard your knuckles turn white. “Daemon, now!”

The door bursts open moments later, and Daemon strides in, his eyes wild with alarm. He takes in the scene instantly — the way you’re leaning forward, the strain in your face, and the tremble in your body. He moves to your side in a heartbeat, one arm wrapping around your waist to support you.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice unusually soft but firm. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the worry simmering just beneath the surface. “You should be lying down.”

“No,” you snap, breathing hard as you shake your head. “I can’t — it hurts more when I lie down.” You grip his arm tightly as another contraction rolls through you, and a groan escapes your lips. “It’s too soon, Daemon… it’s too soon.”

Daemon’s jaw tightens, his gaze darting toward the doorway. “Where is the maester?!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the halls. “Now!”

The sound of hurried footsteps follows his command, and soon Maester Gerardys enters, flanked by two midwives carrying fresh cloths and basins of warm water. Gerardys’s eyes narrow as he takes in your condition. “Her labor has begun in earnest,” he says gravely, stepping forward with calm authority. “We must prepare her.”

“Prepare me?” you hiss, clinging to Daemon as another wave of pain hits. Your nails dig into his sleeve, and he lets you grip him as tightly as you need. “They’re not supposed to come now. It’s too early.”

“Babes come when they wish, princess,” Maester Gerardys replies gently but firmly, moving to check your condition. “The fact that you’re still walking is a good sign. But you must save your strength.”

Daemon presses his lips to your temple, his hand sliding up and down your back in soothing strokes. “He’s right,” he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Come, love. Sit, just for a moment.”

Reluctantly, you nod, letting him guide you toward the bed. Your legs feel weak, and the moment you sit, another contraction wracks your body. You cry out, head bowing forward as the pain takes you. Daemon is right there, kneeling in front of you, his hands on your thighs, his eyes locked on yours.

“Look at me,” he says firmly, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of pain. “Breathe with me, alright? In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He exaggerates each breath, making you follow his lead. “Just like that. You’re doing so well.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you shake your head, frustrated and exhausted. “I’m scared, Daemon,” you admit, voice barely a whisper. “I’m so scared.”

His hands move up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have begun to fall. His violet eyes meet yours with an intensity that makes the world feel just a little less overwhelming. “You’re not alone,” he says, voice low but fierce with conviction. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Another contraction hits, this one even stronger, and you cry out, your whole body tensing. The midwives move to your side, readying fresh cloths and water.

“Steady, princess,” Maester Gerardys says, his tone calm but commanding. “The babes are coming. You’ve done everything right. It’s time now. Let them come.”

Daemon doesn’t leave your side, his hands firm but gentle, his eyes never once looking away from you. “You’ve faced dragons, love,” he says with a faint, crooked smile. “What’s two little babes compared to that?”

His words make you laugh, but it’s short-lived as another wave of pain comes. You grip his hands with all your strength, clinging to him like a lifeline. “I hate you right now,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

His grin widens, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “Then you’re doing it right,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. “Hate me all you like. But you’ll love me again when you’re holding them.”

With those words, you feel something shift, a pressure that tells you the time is near. Panic threatens to rise again, but you hold on to Daemon’s gaze, his steady presence like a flame in the darkness. You’re not alone. Not now, not ever.

The door swings open with a thud, and your mother rushes in, her face etched with worry and determination. Her gaze locks onto you immediately, and she moves with practiced grace, her skirts swishing as she makes her way to your side.

“My sweet girl,” she says softly, her voice like a balm against the storm raging inside you. She kneels next to you, brushing the damp hair away from your face. Her eyes flicker with both concern and reassurance. “I’m here now. Breathe, darling. Just breathe.”

Another contraction seizes you, sharper and stronger than before. Your back arches, and a guttural cry tears from your throat. Daemon grips one of your hands, and your mother takes the other, both anchoring you as you ride the wave of pain.

“You’re doing so well, love,” Daemon says, his voice low but steady, his forehead pressed to yours. “Just a little longer.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snap, panting as the pain finally subsides, your breath coming in shallow gasps. “You’re not the one being torn in half.”

Your mother huffs a short laugh, though her eyes are misty with unshed tears. “She’s strong, this one,” she says, glancing at Daemon. “Stronger than she knows.” Her eyes return to you, full of fierce pride and love. “You’ve got this, my brave girl. We Tyrell women are made of steel wrapped in silk.”

Her words give you strength, and you nod, tears spilling down your cheeks. “It hurts so much, Mother,” you whisper, your voice cracking with exhaustion.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” she soothes, pressing her cool hand to your burning forehead. “But you’re almost there. The pain means they’re coming.”

Another sharp contraction strikes, and you scream, your body tensing as you grip their hands with all your might. The midwives rush to your side, exchanging quick, knowing glances.

“She’s crowning,” one of them announces, her voice firm but excited. “It’s time, princess. You must push now.”

Your heart races in panic. “I can’t— I can’t do this—”

“You can,” Daemon says firmly, his eyes blazing with conviction. His hands cradle your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Look at me. Look at me, love. You are fire and fury. You can do this.”

Your mother nods, her grip on your hand tightening. “We’re right here, my darling. You’re not alone.”

With a loud cry, you push, every muscle in your body straining as the weight of the world seems to press down on you. The pain is unbearable, but Daemon’s voice in your ear, your mother’s hand in yours — they ground you, keep you from slipping into fear.

“That’s it, princess,” the maester says, his voice suddenly more urgent. “Again. Push!”

With a scream that echoes through the chamber, you push with everything you have. Time slows to a crawl, your senses overwhelmed by the weight of the moment. Then, at last —

A loud, piercing wail fills the room. A baby’s cry.

“You did it!” your mother exclaims, tears now freely streaming down her face. “You did it, my love!”

Daemon lets out a breathless laugh, his head falling forward in relief as he presses his lips to your temple. His voice is choked with emotion. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with pride and awe.

The midwife lifts the baby high for you to see — a tiny, wriggling form with a head of damp, silver hair. “It’s a boy, princess,” she says, her smile wide as she hands him over to a waiting midwife to be cleaned.

But the moment of relief is short-lived. Another sharp, searing pain cuts through you, and you gasp, clutching at Daemon.

“Another one?” you choke out, eyes wide in panic. “It’s happening again—”

The midwives move quickly, already prepared. Your mother is instantly back at your side, wiping your brow. “Of course it is, darling. Twins, remember?” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “You already did it once. You can do it again.”

“You were made for this,” Daemon adds, his voice steady as steel. “One more, my love. Just one more.”

With a shaky breath, you nod, drawing on every reserve of strength you have left. Your eyes meet Daemon’s, and you see nothing but love and certainty in his gaze. You nod again, gritting your teeth.

“Alright,” you breathe. “Alright. Let’s finish this.”

“Push, princess!” the maester calls.

With a roar that comes from the deepest part of your soul, you push once more. Every muscle, every fiber of your being strains with effort. The pain is unlike anything you’ve ever known, but you don’t give in. Not now. Not when you’re so close.

Another wail fills the room, this one higher, sharper, but just as strong. The sound of it sends a rush of relief through your chest.

“It’s a girl!” the midwife cries, holding up the second babe, her tiny hands waving in the air. “A strong, healthy girl.”

You fall back against the pillows, utterly spent, tears running freely down your face. Daemon’s hand never leaves yours, and his lips press to your knuckles as he lets out a breathless, joyful laugh. “A boy and a girl,” he says, his eyes shining like twin stars. “Our boy and our girl.”

Your mother presses a kiss to your damp hair, her eyes filled with nothing but pride and love. “You did it, my sweet girl. I’ve never been prouder of you.”

The midwives place the two swaddled babes in your arms, one on each side. You gaze down at them, your heart so full it feels as though it might burst. The boy’s face is scrunched in a tiny scowl, while the girl yawns, her tiny hand curling into a fist.

“They’re perfect,” you whisper, tears still falling. “Daemon… they’re perfect.”

He kneels beside you, his face so full of love that it’s almost unrecognizable. He touches the top of his son’s head, then his daughter’s, his fingers trembling as if he can’t believe they’re real.

“They’re ours,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “You did this, love. You brought them into this world.”

“We did,” you correct, leaning your head against his shoulder. “We did this.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment as the weight of everything settles in. Your mother watches with a smile full of quiet pride, her eyes fixed on you as though she’s seeing you for the first time.

Your breathing grows shallow as another sharp, searing pain tears through you. Panic surges in your chest, your heart pounding like a war drum. You clutch Daemon’s arm, your eyes wild with confusion and fear.

“Daemon—” you gasp, your voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.”

Daemon’s eyes snap to yours, his face instantly shifting from joy to alarm. “What’s happening?” he demands, turning to the maester. “Why is she still in pain?”

The midwives and maester exchange frantic glances before one of the midwives moves swiftly to your side, pressing a hand to your belly. Her eyes widen, and she glances up with a mix of shock and urgency.

“Another one,” she breathes, eyes darting to the maester. “There’s another babe still inside.”

“What?” you choke out, your breath hitching in disbelief. “No—no, you said two! You said it was twins!”

The maester steps forward, his face pale but resolute. “Sometimes, princess, one can be hidden behind the others. It is rare but not unheard of. This child is presenting breech.”

Breech. The word echoes in your mind, filling you with dread. You’ve heard the stories. It’s dangerous — for both mother and child.

Daemon’s grip on your hand tightens, his jaw clenching so hard you can see the muscle twitch. “Then fix it,” he growls, his voice like the crack of thunder. “Do whatever it takes. She survives. They all survive.” His eyes are wild, his protective fury ignited like dragonfire.

Your mother moves to your side, her face steady but her eyes sharp with focus. She grips your hand, leaning in close. “Look at me, darling,” she says softly but firmly. “You’ve done this before. You can do it again. This one will be stubborn, yes, but so are you.”

Tears streak down your face as another wave of pain crashes over you, your body tensing against it. You sob, pressing your face into Daemon’s shoulder, clutching him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

“I can’t,” you cry, your voice muffled by his tunic. “Mother, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” she insists, cupping your face with both hands. Her eyes burn with fierce, unyielding determination. “You’ve already brought two dragons into this world. You are stronger than you know. This little one is just as stubborn as you, that’s all. Now breathe.”

Daemon presses his forehead against yours, his hand cradling the back of your head. “You’re not alone, love,” he whispers, his voice rough but steady. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The maester kneels between your legs, his hands moving carefully. “Princess, we’ll need you to push as before,” he says, his tone urgent but calm. “This one is turned, but I will guide them as best I can.” He glances at you, his gaze firm. “When the pain returns, you must push as hard as you can.”

“Push?” you cry, a wave of terror threatening to consume you. “I’ve nothing left to give!”

“You do,” Daemon growls, his voice fierce as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You have more. You’re fire, you’re fury, and you are mine. Our dragon needs you now, love.”

His words strike something deep within you — deeper than the pain, deeper than the fear. Your heart thunders with a surge of resolve. You grip your mother’s hand, your knuckles white, and nod.

“Alright,” you gasp, drawing in a ragged breath. “Alright. I’m ready.”

“Good girl,” your mother praises, brushing back your damp hair. “Breathe. When it comes, give it everything you have.”

The next contraction is like a tidal wave, surging through you with a force that takes your breath away. But this time, you don’t fight it. You push, screaming with everything in you, every last shred of will and fury.

“Again!” the maester calls, his voice sharp as steel.

You push again, your vision blurring, the world reduced to the roaring fire of your pain and the steady, grounding weight of Daemon’s hand gripping yours. His voice is in your ear, low and commanding. “That’s it, my love. Again. Again.”

Another push. Another scream. Time loses meaning, the world spinning into a haze of pain and exhaustion. You feel like you’re being pulled apart, but you don’t stop. You won’t stop.

Then, at last—

A cry. Sharp. Strong. Alive.

The room stills for a breathless moment. You fall back against the pillows, sobbing with relief. The weight of it all crashes down on you like a wave, and all you can do is cry, shaking from exhaustion.

“Another boy,” the midwife announces, her voice filled with awe and wonder. She carefully lifts the baby, his tiny fists waving in the air as his loud cries fill the chamber. “A strong, stubborn boy.”

Your tears come faster as you gaze at him, your heart too full to hold it all. Your body feels like it’s been shattered and remade, but none of it matters. He’s here. They’re all here.

Daemon lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, his head dropping against your shoulder. His arms wrap around you, holding you so tightly that it’s as if he’s afraid to let go. “Three,” he mutters, his voice thick with disbelief and pride. “Three dragons. You gave me three dragons.”

The midwives place the third baby on your chest, and you weep as you hold him close, feeling the warmth of him against you. His tiny face scrunches, his cries loud and defiant. Your fingers trace his soft cheek, and you let out a shaky breath of pure, unfiltered love.

Your mother sits by your side, wiping her own tears as she strokes your hair. “Three babes,” she says with a wide, teary smile. “The gods have blessed you greatly, my darling. Greater than most.”

Daemon rests his head beside yours, his gaze locked on the three sleeping babes now swaddled in soft cloth and placed beside you. He shakes his head, his face a mask of awe and disbelief. “They’ll sing songs about you,” he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder. “The woman who bore three dragons at once.”

You turn your head toward him, tears still clinging to your lashes, and give him a tired but triumphant smile. “Only if you tell them,” you murmur, your voice hoarse but filled with quiet pride.

He smiles back at you, leaning in to kiss you softly, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll tell them,” he says, his eyes shining like molten gold. “I’ll tell them every day for the rest of my life.”

With the weight of his love and the warmth of your three little dragons nestled by your side, you finally let yourself rest. The fire in you has not dimmed — no, it has only grown stronger. You are the mother of dragons, and the world will remember.

You lie propped up against a mountain of pillows, exhaustion still weighing down your limbs, but the sight before you fills your heart with warmth. Daemon sits beside you, one arm draped protectively around your shoulders while the other rests lightly on one of the cradles where your three newborns sleep soundly. Their tiny breaths are soft puffs of air, their small hands curled into delicate fists.

The gentle creak of the door draws your attention. Your gaze shifts, and you see King Jaehaerys enter, his regal presence filling the room despite his age. Beside him walks Prince Baelon, his broad smile impossible to miss. Following close behind are Viserys and Aemma, the latter carrying little Rhaenyra in her arms, her chubby hands clapping with excitement at the new faces in the room.

“Three,” Baelon says, his booming voice filled with wonder and amusement. “Three dragons at once. The realm will be talking about this for years to come.” He steps forward, his eyes shining with pride as he approaches the cradles. “Which one is the fiercest?” he asks with a grin, peering down at the swaddled babes.

Daemon snorts, his smirk lazy but proud. “All of them,” he replies, his voice thick with exhaustion but filled with unmistakable pride. “They’re mine, after all.”

The room fills with soft laughter. Aemma approaches your side, setting Rhaenyra down carefully before leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “You are incredible,” she says, her eyes filled with admiration. “Three at once… I can hardly imagine it.” She sits beside you, gazing down at the sleeping babes with quiet awe.

“Neither could I,” you murmur, glancing at the tiny faces of your children. Your heart swells with so much love it feels as though it might burst. “I only thought I’d have two. But the gods had other plans.”

Viserys steps forward, his eyes gentle as he kneels to get a closer look at the babes. He tilts his head, a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Do they have names yet?” he asks, his voice soft so as not to disturb them.

Daemon glances at you, his eyes seeking yours for confirmation. You nod, and he speaks with quiet certainty, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. “Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion.”

The names settle in the air like sacred vows. King Jaehaerys nods approvingly, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Strong names,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom. “Names worthy of dragons.”

Rhaenyra toddles forward, her curious eyes fixed on the cradles. She reaches out with her small hands, her face scrunching in concentration as she points at one of the babies. “Bebby,” she says with a little giggle. “Bebby!”

Aemma chuckles, scooping her daughter into her lap. “Yes, sweetling, those are babies. Your cousins.”

Rhaenyra looks from the cradles to you, her wide eyes blinking with fascination. She points at you next. “Mama?”

Your heart melts. A soft laugh escapes you as you reach out, brushing a hand through Rhaenyra’s silver-gold hair. “No, little star,” you say with a smile. “I’m their mama.” You gesture to the cradles. “They’re my little dragons.”

Rhaenyra tilts her head, clearly thinking hard. After a moment, she smiles and points to you again. “Mama dragons!” she declares, giggling to herself as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Baelon bursts out laughing, his voice filling the room. “That’s it!” he says, still chuckling. “The Mother of Dragons herself. That’s what they’ll call you now.”

You glance at Daemon, expecting him to roll his eyes at the dramatics, but instead, you find him gazing at you with that look — the one that makes you feel like the most powerful woman in the world. His hand moves to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“They’ll call you that,” he says, his voice low but certain. “And they’ll be right.”

The warmth of his words wraps around you like a cloak, stronger than any fire. The exhaustion in your bones suddenly feels worth it. Every ache, every pain, every sleepless night — all of it was for this moment. For them. For him.

The children sleep soundly, the world quiet except for the soft crackling of the hearth and the murmured conversations of family. You lean your head against Daemon’s shoulder, letting his warmth lull you into a peaceful haze.

Three dragons. Three beautiful, strong, fierce little dragons. And you, their mother, are ready to protect them with every ounce of fire in your soul.

The gentle knock on the chamber door draws everyone’s attention. Daemon rises from his seat beside you, his hand resting protectively on your shoulder before he moves to answer it. The door creaks open to reveal a Red Keep guard, standing beside one of the dragonkeepers clad in dark leathers lined with scales. The dragonkeeper holds a large wooden box, his stance careful and deliberate as if he were carrying something precious — and he is.

The moment you see it, your breath catches in your throat. The box is unlatched and opened slowly, revealing three dragon eggs nestled in soft layers of blackened ash and cloth. Each egg glimmers with an otherworldly sheen, their surfaces glinting in the warm glow of the chamber’s fire.

Gasps echo throughout the room. King Jaehaerys leans forward, his sharp gaze fixed on the eggs, while Prince Baelon lets out a low whistle of appreciation. Aemma presses a hand to her chest, her eyes wide with wonder. Even little Rhaenyra stares in fascination, her small hands clapping in delight.

“By the gods,” Aemma breathes, awe clear in her voice. “Three eggs… for three dragons.” Her eyes shift to you, full of meaning.

The dragonkeeper steps forward, bowing his head respectfully. “Gifts from Dragonstone, my lady,” he announces. His voice is steady but reverent. “Freshly laid from the hatchery. They are yours by right.”

Your heart swells with emotion. Three eggs. Each one is as beautiful as it is dangerous — a promise of power, legacy, and fire. You glance at Daemon, who is watching you with a fierce pride, his gaze shifting between you and the eggs. He nods, his jaw set with resolve.

“Come,” Daemon says, his voice firm but soft as he walks back to your side. “Let them see.”

Carefully, the dragonkeeper places the box on the small table beside you. You lean forward, your eyes drawn to the eggs like a moth to flame. One egg is a deep crimson red, flecked with streaks of black, like molten lava cracking through stone. Another is a pale silver-blue with swirls of icy white — reminiscent of the sea during a storm. The third is a deep, smoky green, its surface marked with flecks of bronze that shimmer like sunlight on leaves.

You reach out with a steady hand, fingers grazing the surface of the red egg. It’s warm to the touch, alive with subtle vibrations, as though something inside is already stirring. Your gaze flickers to Daemon, and he watches you intently, as if witnessing something sacred.

“They’ll bond with them,” Daemon says quietly, his eyes shifting to the cradles where your three newborns sleep. “They’ll grow together.” His voice is filled with certainty, like it is a prophecy already written in stone.

You glance at the sleeping babes. Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion. Three children, three dragon eggs. Fire and blood. Legacy.

King Jaehaerys rises from his chair, his face thoughtful but pleased. “This is a sign,” he declares, his voice echoing with authority. “The blood of the dragon runs strong in them. They will be great, as their father and mother are.”

Prince Baelon grins wide, his eyes sharp with excitement. “Aegon the Conqueror had three dragons,” he says, tilting his head as he gazes at you. “It seems history has a fondness for repeating itself.”

Aemma steps forward, her gaze moving from the eggs to you. “Have you decided which egg belongs to which child?” she asks, her smile soft but curious.

You look down at the eggs, fingers brushing over each one in turn. It feels as though they call to you, whispering their secrets through the warmth beneath your palm.

For Maegon, you choose the red egg, fierce and untamed, a symbol of strength and fire. He will be a warrior, you think. A flame that will never be extinguished.

For Vaelya, you choose the silver-blue egg, cool yet powerful, like the stillness before a raging storm. She will be steady and wise, but never weak. The sea and sky will answer her call.

For Aerion, you choose the green egg with bronze flecks, vibrant and wild, a reflection of growth, change, and rebirth. He will be a force of nature, ever growing, ever changing.

With each choice, you feel a weight lift from your heart, as if the decision had been waiting for you to realize it all along.

“They are theirs,” you say aloud, gazing at the eggs with quiet reverence. “Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion. Their dragons will rise with them.”

Daemon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his fingers curling softly against you. “They will,” he says, his voice low with conviction. “And the world will never forget it.”

The dragonkeeper bows his head once more before backing away, his task complete. The box is left behind, its contents no longer just eggs but something far greater. The fire crackles softly, casting warm, dancing shadows across the eggs, as if they, too, are dreaming of the future.

You lean into Daemon’s side, exhaustion settling back into your bones, but your heart is full. Your children have their dragons. Your legacy is secured.

tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd

[aurumalatus]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.6k

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), slight angst, they are pining as fuck

summary.

on the edge of war, you and kinich face your unresolved tension and forge new promises for the path ahead.

author's note. the new aq quest had me fucking screaming. i feel my kinich love renewed. he will never leave my blood (i hate him but i love him), unedited for now. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

As the Night Warden Wars loom, you find Kinich in the armory in the late hours of the night.

He’s been avoiding you, you know; when you happen to meet in the castle halls, he bows his head as you walk past, unwilling to meet your gaze. The other guards get assigned to you more often now in his stead, pity in their wandering eyes—they’re fully aware of the tension between you and your personal guard. You try your best to ignore it, even when the maids pull you into hugs without explanation and your mother grows more overbearing, always asking if you’re feeling alright.

And, truth be told, you’re not.

Kinich’s insistence to participate in the war worries you to no end. He’s been more reckless lately, taking duties overnight, eyebags growing heavy with exhaustion. He’s trying to distract himself, but from what, you don’t know.

 It’s not that you don’t trust his strength, or even that you want him home to protect you. It’s because you want him to come home to you—period. 

He looks you over, gaze pausing over the bandages wrapping your arm. It seems to pain him, even now—his jaw tightens at the sight. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You lean against the wall, arms crossed. “Neither should you.”

The air feels thick in your lungs. It’s a far cry from your typical interaction, when you’re giggling and he’s rolling his eyes, lighthearted. Now, a frost crawls through your chest when he turns away.

He sets about sharpening his sword with careful strokes.

“Kinich,” you approach, gentle. The muscle of his back grows taut at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please, please reconsider. Or else, I’m coming with you.”

You’re not sure at what point he started to feel so out of reach. Since the last attack, Abyssal forces have grown ever closer. Still, even when he’s only a few feet in front of you, it feels like there’s several walls between you.

He scoffs. “This isn’t just about what you want, Princess, as much as you might think so.”

It comes out bitter, venomous, and so unlike him—the Kinich you know is far gentler, far kinder. As annoying as you can be sometimes, he’s never expressed any irritation whatsoever. Still, he seems genuinely angry with you at the moment.

“What happened to ‘no one fights alone’? That’s what you always say, isn’t it?!”

It’s the motto emblazoned across the Natlan flags, the ones that line the town squares and peek from the top of the castle, proud. You’ve heard Kinich say it many times, as Guard Captain. He sighs.

“That doesn’t include you.”

A fire sparks in your chest, angry; anything that involves your nation certainly involves you. The thought has you advancing toward him, eyes blazing.

“I don’t think that’s up to you, Kinich.” You return your own poison, flinging words off your tongue like blades. “This isn’t just about what you want, as much as you might think so.”

Kinich puts down his greatsword and turns to you, barely concealed rage evident in the way his hands tremble.

“You’re not coming, Princess.” The stress is palpable in his expression, the knit of his brows and the twitch of his lip. “I’ll do whatever I have to. But you’re not taking a damn step toward that battlefield.”

The sheen in his amber eyes reflects something unfamiliar—something ugly and writhing. 

Fear.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kinich look that way before.

“What are you so afraid of?” you ask, desperate. “What are you running from?”

“What am I so afraid of?” His disposition turns fierce—his canines flash in the light, and you flinch. The action has him deflating immediately, unfamiliar with your panic.

Sighing, he leans back against the wall, sliding down until he comes to a stop on the ground. His head falls into his hands.

It’s quiet. Outside, people are whispering, preparing for the impending battle. In the next few days, people are going to die—your people. The thought is difficult to contend with. The tension weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch your knight.

He’s still hunched over, looking overwhelmingly…small. Child-like. You wonder if you’ve ever seen him look this vulnerable before. It feels like you’re seeing the Kinich from a completely different time, one where he wasn’t the Guard Captain, one where he was all alone.

“Feeling you go limp in my arms?” he finally whispers, barely audible. “Feeling your heart slow to a stop?”

You freeze. His voice is thin, like glass—it feels like he’ll break any second. You take another step toward him, careful.

“Kinich.”

“I can’t—”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then gathers himself to face you again.

“I won’t lose you like that. Not now. Not ever.”

The prior attack seemed to have affected him more than you thought. You’d noticed it, maybe briefly, in his daily routines. More often, he seemed hesitant to leave your side. He was stricter with the guard patrols, and with your safety in general. Sometimes, you found him looking at the Capital square with a hardened gaze, perhaps remembering that day.

Then, one day, he began to avoid you completely.

His words bare the truth for you to hear: Kinich is afraid that you will die.

And it is eating him alive.

He pushes himself to his feet, taking another step to meet you in the middle.

“I exist to protect you, Princess,” he says, almost begging, a hand pressed to his chest. “That is why I am here. If I must die doing it, then that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

A horror creeps through your veins at his detached attitude.

“That’s what you think this is?” you ask, in disbelief. “That you’re just some sort of object for me to use? That it doesn’t matter what happens to you?”

For as long as you’ve known him, Kinich has been selfless, always placing your needs before his own. Yet, you hadn’t realized that he was never considering his own needs at all.

He looks away. “That is my duty—”

“It’s not!” 

You cup at his face, pulling him to face you. A thin, crystalline fissure cracks through your heart at his expression—he looks hopelessly, overwhelmingly lost. When a tear slips out of the corner of his eye, you nearly sob.

“You matter to me, Kinich,” you whisper, thumbing it away. “And your life is not a risk I’m willing to take.”

His mouth opens, then closes, struggling for uncertain words. You wonder if he’s ever been told this in his life—how much he’s wanted, how much he’s needed. Despite how much you complain, you know that you’ve needed him since you met him, and that won’t change anytime soon. The thought of his injury—or even worse, his death—leaves you reeling.

He clears the lump in his throat, finding himself.

“I still have to go,” he manages, quiet. His fingers curl around your wrist, rooting you there—rooting you to him.

You press your forehead to his, his bangs and headband warm against your skin. A life still pulses there, in his ribcage, and that’s all you need to know.

“I know. But don’t be reckless.”

It’s a plea. That despite the danger and the terror, he’ll think of you on the battlefield, and the promises you’ve made. That he’ll think about returning home, always.

You look up at him through your lashes, and he looks back.

“Come back to me, Kinich,” you say, tears welling in your eyes. “That’s an order.”

The sight seems to sober him—Kinich swallows before nodding firmly.

“As you wish, Princess.”

/

The next day, you meet Kinich in the castle chapel, along with the rest of the elite guards. Your mother and father sit behind you, quiet and regal on their thrones. The mood feels overwhelmingly somber.

You’ve never had to perform this rite, this blessing, for as long as you’ve lived. But then again, you’ve never experienced war to this extent. 

Kinich advances down the center of the aisle, flanked by his fellow knights—the skylight casts a gentle shine over him. You vaguely think he looks like a prince.

He’s in his ceremonial armor, glowing paint lining his cheeks and arms. A hunter green cape flutters behind him as he approaches, greatsword flashing proud over his back. You nod in acknowledgement as he falls to one knee before you.

“Malipo Kinich,” you say, voice echoing throughout the chapel. Kinich’s gaze is meaningful as he looks up at you—it reminds you of when he was first knighted so many years ago. “Go forth and bring pride and protection to our nation.”

You outstretch a hand, and he takes it—his thumb runs comfortingly across your palm, a promise.

This won’t be the last time.

He presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, eyes fluttering shut.

“May the Abyss take my soul if I ever abandon you,” he murmurs, hushed. His breath is warm, pooling over your skin and running hot up your arm. It’s a message for you and you alone. “May my skin tear from bone if you ever suffer.”

When he rises to his feet, turning to leave, you grasp at his shoulder. The action has him flinching, glancing at you over his shoulder. Everyone in the chapel holds their breath, watchful.

You pull the ribbon from your hair, golden silk wrapping smoothly around your hand. His eyes widen. 

“Come back to me, Kinich.”

Gently, you tie it around the grip of his greatsword, just under the ridge of the one you’d given to him before. He hisses in a breath when you brush over his cheek as you withdraw your hand, before thumbing over your new gift, thoughtful.

When he looks at you again, a certain fondness sits in his stare.

“As you wish, your Highness.”

[ellecdc]

He Shoots & He Scores

hockey player!James Potter x team medic!reader who finds a diagnosis for James [1.9k words]

a/n: a little imagining from a while back with the queen of au's @maladaptiveescapism [who's going to be abandoning (kidding/affectionate) me soon to write her own fics 😭😭]

CW: fem!reader, swearing/cursing, James worried about making work weird for everyone, Remus being a little shit

James rapped his knuckles twice against the door to your office before gently pushing the door open, his smile faltering when he spotted Remus leaning his hip against your desk as he looked over a file in one hand as he took a bite from an apple held in his other. 

“This is getting embarrassing, Potts.” Remus offered with a snort as uncrossed his ankles and stood up straight. 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” James offered as primly as he could manage as he peered back down the hallway he just entered from in hopes of spotting you. 

“No?” Remus taunted. “Something I can help you with then? Or do you need to see the doctor?”

“Fuck off.” James let out, halfway between a laugh and a moan as he shoved at Remus’ arm playfully. 

“Why don’t you just tell her you have a crush on her and get it over with?” Remus asked as he returned to perch on the desk and mirrored James’ posture as they both waited for you to return - though Remus was gracious enough not to comment (a second time) on the fact that he knew James to be doing just that. 

“Because she’s my doctor.”

“She’s the team’s doctor.” Remus corrected as he took another bite of his apple. “And I believe her proper title is medic if you wanted to get into the nitty gritty.” 

“But isn’t that weird? To be crushing on your team medic?”

“Oh it absolutely is.” Remus agreed readily, causing James to groan miserably. 

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” He muttered. 

“Well all this pining and finding bad excuses to spend time with her is making me uncomfortable. Ever think about that?”

“I swear to fucking god, Lupin, nothing works around here except for us.” They heard you mutter before either of them could continue in their conversation; James standing quickly at attention and Remus snorting at his expense. 

“Oh shit, sorry captain.” You offered James with a smirk that was equal parts teasing and bashful as you looked up at him briefly from the tablet in your hands. “I know you players aren’t used to hearing such profanity.” 

James let out a quick bark of nervous laughter that startled even himself before turning to look at Remus with an expression that he hoped screamed ‘holy fucking shit help me’.

“Please,” Remus cut in, answering James’ prayers, “did you hear that string Black came up with last game?” 

You snorted as you tapped a few more times at the iPad that was apparently causing you issues. “What was it again? Uhm, ‘son of a fucking cocksucking bitch ass hoe bag’?” 

“I want that written on my headstone.” Remus responded solemnly as he binned the core of his apple, earning him a hum of acknowledgement from you. 

“Alright, Potter?” You asked with your face still pointed at the tablet. 

“Hm?” He asked dumbly, gaining your gaze as you looked up at him with an arched eyebrow. 

“Are you alright? Or did you need something?”

“Oh! I- Uhm, actually yeah no I needed to see you about something.” He offered awkwardly, and you finally seemed to lose all interest in the faulty tablet in your hands. 

“Why? What’s wrong? Is everything alright?” You rapid-fired, (beautiful) eyes darting over his form as you scoured his frame for any signs of ailment or injury. 

“Oh, well, no I mean, I mean I’m fine, but-”

“You’re fine?” 

“Not fine, fine, but like, not… bad?” 

Remus actually looked pained on James' behalf - pained and also a little smug, and perhaps there was a side of mischief there in his amber eyes too. “Bad enough to see the doc, though.” He offered with faux sympathy; his lip jutting out in a theatric pout. 

James tried to scowl at him when he felt a gentle, cold finger dig into the flesh beneath his jaw bone. You used your thumb to tilt his face towards you and James felt like the air was being forced from his lungs as he now had you standing so close to him, brows furrowed in concern as you scanned his face. James sort of wanted to smooth out the divot between your brows with the pad of his thumb and kiss the displeased downturn of your lips with his own - but he refrained, because that would be weird. 

“Did you hit your head during practice?” You asked seriously, startling when Remus let out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter from behind you. 

He tried to play off his laugh as a cough when you turned to give him an incredulous look, but he continued staring at James with mirth in his eyes as you turned your attention back to James. 

“I’ll leave him in your very capable hands, doc.” 

“Lupin!” James hissed as Remus backed out of the office. 

“Sorry Potts! I’m just a PT!” He called back from further down the hall, and James hoped to the hockey gods you couldn’t hear his snickering as you held your finger up in front of James. 

“Look here, Potter.” 

James allowed himself the pleasure of staring uninhibitedly into your eyes as he leaned back against your desk so that the two of you were closer in height; your finger still tracking his pulse and his jaw still trapped in your grasp. 

“My finger, Potter.” You corrected with the hint of an upturn in your lips as you wiggled the finger he was supposed to be tracking to prove to you he didn’t have a concussion. 

“Sorry doc,” he started as he followed instructions, feeling emboldened by the humour in your eyes, “the view was just too good, I couldn’t help myself.” 

You bit your bottom lip as you smiled and shook your head at him fondly, though you continued watching his eyes as he watched your finger. “You’re such a flirt. I’m gonna flash a light.” You warned as your finger disappeared along with the rest of your hand into your team scrubs pocket and pulled out a small flashlight before shining it in his eyes. James’ gaze remained steadfast on you.  

“Alright. I didn’t think I saw you hit your head, and you’re showing no physical signs of a concussion, so what the hell are you doing in my office?” You declared with a breath - whether it was a tired sigh or a breath of relief, James didn’t know - as you moved to the other side of your desk and took a seat. 

There were two perfectly fine seats on the other side of your desk, but space wasn’t what James was after when he went in search of you, so he followed you around to your side of the desk and perched himself on the edge so that he was facing you instead. “I’m not allowed to come chat with the team medic?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t deign to answer; you had one leg crossed over the other and you used the foot still on the ground to swivel your desk chair back and forth as you continued to stare at him sceptically. 

“Do I look good out there?” James asked quietly then - just for something to say, just to keep the conversation going. Hockey was safe, hockey was familiar; the two of you could talk about hockey, right? 

“Yes…” you started cautiously, still looking at him with one eyebrow raised. “But you know that. And Remus could’ve told you the same.” 

“He could have, but would Remus have told me the same?” James asked sceptically in return, earning him a snort of laughter from you. 

“No, he would have bullied you first. Would you like me to try again?”

“No,” James moaned, “that’s why I came to you.” 

“Why did you come to me?” You asked him again, quietly this time. Something about the way you were looking at him made him feel cut open and raw and vulnerable; you were suspicious, rightfully so, and so very much onto him. 

James shrugged and looked at the wall of books set up behind your desk - anatomy, kinesiology and sports medicine textbooks that you and Remus had collected over your educations and careers sitting on standby as resources should either of you need them. You never did though, James found. The two of you brilliant and confident, knowledgeable and assured enough to ask the other for feedback or input when you second guessed yourselves. You worked well together - you and Remus - James realised then. A team; much in the same way that the Lion’s were. He was lucky to have you on his team; they all were. 

“I like spending time with you.” James admitted then, still not looking over at you, though he couldn’t help but notice when you stopped swivelling back and forth in your chair. 

“So…you feigned a concussion in order to be alone with me?” You nearly whispered then, and all of James’ fears had come true. He’d made you uncomfortable, he’d freaked you out, pushed you away. You’d leave the team, or, or maybe you wouldn’t leave the team, but you’d certainly hand over James’ care to one of the leagues other medics.  

James screwed his eyes shut before turning to face you, ready to apologise and beg and vow to repent for his sins when he saw you with one hand covering your mouth and your eyes full of ill hidden humour. 

You were fucking with him. 

“I did not feign a concussion!” He barked back at you - though his voice was breathy with relief. “You assumed!”

You pulled your hand away from your mouth to display a wide smile as you pointed back at him in an accusatory manner. “You came in here acting like someone with a concussion!”

“I came in here acting like someone with a crush.” James both corrected and admitted; in for a penny, in for a pound and whatnot. 

You hummed in acknowledgement as you brought your hand back to your lips and continued swivelling in your chair. “My medical books never taught me to look for symptoms of a crush.” 

“Those are terrible textbooks then.” James added solemnly. “You should probably get your money back.” 

“Probably.” 

“They should take your licence away too.” He accused as he stood, and your mouth fell open in shock and offence. 

“James!” You chided, and James fought the urge to shiver at the way his given name sounded coming from your lips. 

“What kind of doctor doesn’t know how to diagnose a crush?” He scoffed. 

“Get the fuck out of my office.” You laughed, and James turned to wink at you and offer you a salute. 

“Doctors orders.” He said before slipping out of your office. 

He poked his head back in to see you still smiling towards the door like you’d been looking after him. 

“But... maybe I could message you later? You know…about that diagnosis?” 

You stopped swivelling in your chair as you smiled at him - more softly this time. “Sure, James.” 

James returned the smile and tapped twice on your doorframe. “Goodnight, doc.” 

“Night, cap.” You murmured in return, and James waited until he was outside in the team parking lot before pumping his fist and letting out celebratory holler. 

Unbeknownst to James, Remus started his own car only after James had gotten into his, shaking his head fondly and muttering something that sounded an awful lot like ‘fucking finally’ as he pulled away from the Lion’s arena.

[urmom3001]

Princess

Summary: Luke never would have thought he'd ever have eyes for the daughter of Hades and Persephone.

Warnings!: Fem! Hades & Persephone reader, because Hades cabin doesn't exist yet, she's a minor god, so she stays in whatever cabin she pleases until the time of Nico Di Angelo. Timing is placed before tlt . She has pyro kenesis basically fire control. I've changed somethings, she's not considered a forbidden child because she's born from two gods, not a god and a human. This isn't canon obvi i made it up to fit the story.

Whenever Luke was called to the big house, he knew he was never in trouble. It was always to show around and be informed of a new arrival. But this time when he got to Chiron and Mr. D they seemed a little bit more..serious about this new camper.

"Ah Luke, come sit with us." Chiron beckoned him to sit with him and Mr. D while they were playing cards. This was already out of the ordinary, usually when there was a new camper, he would get a brief run down of who they were and when they were coming, and he would be sent back on his merry little way. He slowly pulled out the chair and sat. "We have a new camper coming tomorrow."

Okay nothing new, "That's great, I'll be showing them around tomorrow?" He asks knowing the answer is yes.

"Yes, but there are some things you need to know before her arrival." Chiron answers. Great, so the new camper is a girl.

"This girl.." Chiron continues. Luke waited. He was so curious. Was she a forbidden child? Was she a crazy psycho? "She's the daughter of Hades, and Persephone." That answered all of Luke's questions.

The Princess of the Underworld would be coming to Camp Half-Blood, and he needed to escort her around.

"She'll arrive tomorrow early in the morning, be ready kid. O' eight hundred. " Dionysus continued.

"You are dismissed." Chiron says not once looking up from his intense game or cards with Mr. D. Whelp, this was gonna be very interesting for Luke.

Luke woke up the next morning at around 7 am. Perfect amount of time to get ready and to eat something before showing the new camper around. It had occurred to Luke that he didn't know her name. Chiron hadn't told him. By the time he was done getting ready and had a bite to eat, it was about 7:50. Perfect timing.

He made it to the borders of camp to wait for the girl. Nonethe less when the clock struck 8:00am and all of the campers started to ride due to the morning conch. A big pink flame of fire emerged from the ground. It startled Luke, but as the flame started to go away, the silhouette of a girl peaked through. She was facing the other way looking around. And when she turned around..

Oh boy.

Luke fell hard. His palms were starting to sweat, he felt his heart thumping. Of course he had always heard the myths and the stories about the Princess of the underworld. In almost all of them they had all mentioned her beauty. And boy were those words true.

"Are you the boy that's showing me around? Father said that I would have an escort?" She said. Her voice was like the calm after a storm. Luke didn't answer. "Uhm? Sir?" She questioned.

"Oh! Uhm yes! that's me. Uh I'm Luke." He managed to get out while offering his hand to her.

She took it, boy her hands were soft like feathers. "I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you, but can we get going? It's quite hot today." She said

Without thinking Luke says "You'd think you'd be used to the heat, being from the underworld and all." Luke's eyes widen when he realized what he said.

He looked her in the eyes and at first he thought he fucked up. She had a deadpan on her face. But when they stared at each other for a bit she started to crack, and she let out the most beautiful laugh Luke had ever heard.

"Well, let's get going Luke, we wouldn't wanna burn out here," She said with a little giggle sending a small amber his way.

He was in awe. She had fire powers, just like the stories said.

After a while. The pair got close. They were friends...that's if you still count them as your friends even though you're constantly flirting all of the time.

And that was the dynamic between the two. They were always bickering or flirting, or both at the same time. Luke knew from the moment he saw her he was doomed. He had never felt this way about anyone before. Every camper saw it, Luke looked at Y/n like she hung the stars in the sky, and honestly if you told Luke she did, he would believe you.

After a while the two had even received a name, the princess and her guardian. Because wherever Y/n was Luke wasn't too far by lingering around her, always keeping an eye on her.

They never admitted they're feelings for each other however. Not until the incident about a year after Y/n's first summer at camp.

"Oh come on Y/n, why don't you ditch that loser Luke and be with me." Ben from Aphrodite cabin said to her as she sat by herself with her lunch waiting for Luke.

"Excuse me?" She said with offence. Luke for one was NOT a loser, okay maybe he was just a bit but still. That was rude, and Y/n didn't like rude people.

"You heard me doll." He said with a smug smirk. Gross, that nick name did not come out as good as he thought it did.

"Leave me alone please, now you're just being ridiculous." She stated. Y/n was very open with her boundaries and did not like it when they were crossed.

"Oh come on, you know you want to." This guy just couldn't take the hint.

"She said leave dude." Luke stated from behind you. You looked back and smiled mouthing "Thank you."

"Well well, the loser himself. Y/n deserves a real man, after all, she is a princess." He said in a snarky tone.

"Dude seriously just back off." Luke said stepping up chest to chest with him now. Y/n stood now, she didn't like conflict, and she definitely did not want to be the reason why it started.

"Come on Luke, let's just go." She said trying to tug him away. Luke looked at her then back at the smug boy. Luke huffed and turned around.

"Yeah go ahead and go cry to your daddy! Oh wait..." Ben shouted as they walked away. This time Luke wasn't the only one that was fighting now. Y/n knew all about Hermes and how he treated Luke. Now this made her angry.

"What did you say?" Y/n said as she turned around.

"You heard me clear and-" He stopped talking as he took in Y/n's state. Her eyes burned with fire. Her fists ready with flames.

"Can you repeat yourself?" She said coming closer to him.

Ben started to panic. "Help!" He yelled, as if everyone eyes weren't on them the second Y/n turned around. "This girl is crazy!" He cried.

Y/n fake lunged forward toward him which scared him endlessly making him run off to cry to mommy. Of course Y/n wasn't going to actually hurt him. Just scare him a bit so he wouldn't mess with her and Luke.

Now that Ben was away, so was the crowd. Nothing to watch anymore so everyone went about their day. Now it was just her and Luke.

She calmed and so did her fire. She turned to see Luke staring at her with more twinkle in his eyes than usual.

"Yes?" She asked.

"I'm in love with you." Luke said.

"What?"

"I love-" Luke was cut off with a pair of lips colliding with his. It was everything Luke thought it would be. Her lips were soft, just like he imagined. He always thought he would kiss her first though. I guess some things can't be predicted.

"I love you too Luke Castellan." She said after they pulled apart.

The two stared at each other with their rosy cheeks and they're foreheads pushed together.

Luke never would have thought in a million years that he would be with the Princess of the Underworld, there's a first to everything though.

A/n: I've been having writers block recently. I literally don't know what to write, so if you have an requests, they're open on my acct!!

[im-ovulating]

A Jasper kinktober with bloodplay and light choking?

(A/n: Kinktober Day 1/15 LET'S GOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!)

Word Count: 1,774

Summary: Yeah, your trust could have easily been misplaced, he's an apex predator, after all... good thing it wasn't.

Warnings: Blood, light choking, Reader being stupid

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Trust

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

Jasper's weight is solid and comforting on top of you in a stark contrast to the way he is ravishing your mouth.

Your fingers are tangle in his soft curls as you kiss him back with equal fervor. You're dizzy with Jasper - his weight, his taste, his smell. God, his smell... Woodsy but also a bit spicy; it's hard to put an exact name to it, but, if you could drown in it, you would without a first, let alone second, thought.

"Fuck, you taste amazing, darlin'..." Jasper groans, wrapping his arm under you to press you even closer. As he nibbles your bottom lip, he uses a bit too much pressure.

Jasper freezes before you even taste the iron. His once honey-colored eyes now a deep amber as he stares down at you. His chest heaves with unnecessary breaths as he fights to control himself.

Trapped under him, you have no choice but to simply look up at him with wide eyes and bated breath. You're at his mercy; a rabbit trapped in the maw of a hungry wolf.

"Sugar..." His voice is gruff and strained with the effort of fighting his instincts. "Sugar, I need you to get up and leave. I need you to leave the house, get in your car and drive... now." He shifts his weight to free you, giving you a straight shot out of the bedroom.

"But-" "Now!"

You flinch a little at the sudden volume, though you remain rooted in your spot. There's something about the way he's looking at you that makes you unable to move; you're like a deer in headlights or maybe the thought of being so irresistible to him that he has to fight himself is just keeping you thinking clearly. Or you're just insane... Yeah. It's probably that...

"You won't hurt me..." You mumble, barely believing it yourself. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears.

As you reach up to cup his cheek, your hand is surprisingly steady. You try to bury the hurt that rips through you when he flinches from your touch.

"You don't know that." Jasper grits out. His fingers are fisted in the sheets so hard that his knuckles are impossibly white.

"You haven't hurt me yet..." You reason, knowing that it truly doesn't mean anything. You wipe your bottom lip with your thumb, collecting the red droplets. You ignore the way your stomach flips as his gaze snaps to your hand.

"What are you doing, Sugar?" God, that rasp alone could make you wet.

"I trust you..." Is your whispered response as you lift your thumb to his lips.

"I don't trust me." Jasper retorts. He tries to turn his head, but you don't let him. You swipe your thumb against his bottom lip, smearing the blood on it. it's a taunt - a stupid one - and both of you know it.

You watch with a hammering heart as he subconsciously lets his tongue dart out to taste the liquid. Before you can even react, his eyes go black and his hand closes around your throat as he tilts your head back. His grip doesn't hurt, but it leaves no wiggle room for you to pull away.

"Jas-" You start to say, realizing just how stupid you were. You've known he's a vampire, known that he has trouble controlling himself around blood. Fuck... However, you're cut off as his mouth crashes against yours once more.

Jasper's tongue immediately invades your mouth, tracing the seam of your lips as he laps up more of your blood. A small whimper leaves you, only to be swallowed up by his kiss.

"You're playing with fire darlin'..." his voice is lower than you've ever heard. Hungrier. "You want to play with nature? Toy with your life and my control? Huh?" He lowers his head to trail his nose along your neck, pressing a kiss to your thundering pulse point. "I can smell how wet you are for me... I can feel how aroused you are." You can feel your face grow hotter as he lays the truth out so blatantly. "You like the idea of being so vulnerable, don't you, Sugar?"

All you can do is nod pathetically as he experimentally flexes his hand around your throat.

"Well, consider it done, princess, I'll give you what you want..." He grins against your neck. He gives it a small, harmless nip before pulling back.

He reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off.

"Strip." He orders as he shoves his jeans down.

Apparently, you take too long because before you can even start, he decides to rip your jeans off. The button pops and lands somewhere in the room with a soft *clink* that's drowned out by your startled gasp. Your shirt and panties quickly join them as he trails kisses down your chest.

His hand stays firm around your throat as he draws back to meet your gaze. "Tell me what you want, darlin'... I need to know your mind matches what you're feelin'."

You shiver under Jasper's intense gaze, your heart racing with a potent mixture of fear and arousal. His firm grip on your throat leaves you feeling deliciously powerless, completely at his mercy.

"I want you," you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. "All of you. I trust you, Jasper, even if you don't trust yourself."

Your hands reach up to caress his face, thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. "I know the risks, but I want this. Want you to take me, claim me as yours." You pause, biting your lip nervously. "Please, Jasper…"

Your eyes search his, silently pleading with him to give in to his desires, to let go of his control and give you everything you crave. The hunger burning in his gaze makes your breath catch, anticipation coiling tight within you.

Jasper's grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, making your pulse quicken. His eyes blaze with unbridled desire as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light caress.

"You have no idea what you're asking for, darlin'," he rasps, voice dripping with temptation. "I could snap your neck with barely a thought. Drain you dry in the blink of an eye."

He pauses, letting his words sink in as his free hand trails down your body, eliciting a shiver from you. "But god help me, I want you too. Want to feel you quivering beneath me, hear you moan my name as I fuck you senseless."

His hand drifts lower, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You instinctively part your legs, silently begging him to touch you where you ache for him most.

"Please, Jasper," you plead, fingers digging into his shoulders. "I need you. Take me, claim me, do whatever you want - I trust you."

With a feral growl, Jasper crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your mewls of pleasure. His hand leaves your throat to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him as he grinds his hardness against your slick heat.

"Then you're mine, sugar," he murmurs huskily against your lips. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Jasper's grip on your hips tightens as he lines himself up with your aching core, the tip of his cock teasing your slick folds. You let out a desperate whimper, your nails raking down his back as you try to pull him closer.

"Please, Jasper...I need you," you beg shamelessly, your body thrumming with a depraved, desperate need that you know he can feel.

With a low, guttural groan, Jasper surges forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, welcoming heat. You cry out at the delicious stretch, your walls fluttering and clenching around his cock.

He pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his near-black eyes smoldering with barely contained hunger. Then, with a primal growl, he begins to move - hard, fast, relentless thrusts that have you seeing stars.

"Fuck, you feel so good, sugar," he pants, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "So tight, so wet...all for me."

Your back arches as he hits that sweet spot inside you, over and over, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. You're completely at his mercy, your mind hazy with lust and the knowledge that your life hangs by a thread; that you could easily die if he loses even an ounce of the control he's holding on a fraying leash.

Jasper's grip on you tightens as he gathers you close, his lips trailing feather-light kisses along the delicate column of your neck. You shiver at the contrast of his cool skin against your flushed and sensitive skin.

"You're mine, sugar," he rumbles again, the possessiveness in his tone sending a thrill down your spine. His hand caresses your hip, fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

You arch into his touch, utterly intoxicated by his nearness. The predatory gleam still lingers in his darkened eyes, but there's a softness there too - a silent promise that he will protect you, even from himself.

Slowly, he rolls his hips, still buried deep inside you. You gasp at the sensation, your body already aching for more. Jasper chuckles, low and delicious, as he watches your reactions.

"So responsive, darlin'," he murmurs, nipping gently at your earlobe. "I could spend all night making you come undone."

His hand trails up your side, skimming the curve of your breast. You arch further into his touch, silently begging for more. Jasper obliges, his thumb caressing your nipple until it hardens into a tight peak.

"Please, Jasper," you whimper, your hips rocking against his in a silent plea.

With a predatory grin, Jasper shifts his weight, pressing you back into the mattress. His thrusts build in intensity, driving you higher and higher until you're trembling on the edge of release.

"That's it, sugar," he growls, his lips ghosting over yours. "Let go for me. Come apart on my cock."

Your vision whites out as the coil of tension within you snaps, your body convulsing around him in ecstasy. Jasper follows soon after, his fangs grazing your neck in a silent reminder of the threat he poses as he spills himself inside you with a guttural groan.

Spent and sated, you cling to him, your heartbeat gradually slowing. Jasper nuzzles your hair affectionately, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

"That was incredibly stupid and reckless of you, darlin'..." Jasper admonishes softly as he settles down.

"I know..." you pant a bit. "But I already told you: I trust you."

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I Put A Spell On You.

(Part Two)

Smoke and Rosetta got some makin’ up to do

It was a reflex for him to reach for his revolver. The sound of a withering floorboard caused Smokes to jump up from his sleep and grab it from the side table swiftly.

Click.

He was ready to aim and shoot down. Smokes’ unwavering gaze in that dimly-lit room cased out every dark corner and his ears listened for any signs of an intruder. He had good form and a lethal mental. He’d heard the sound again and instantly he aimed for the floor, finger on the trigger ready to pull.

A low meow followed by a pretty tabby-cat relaxed his tense muscles. Smokes lowered his weapon with ease before silently putting the revolver back on the night stand. His brandy-colored eyes tracked the movements of the cat between his legs, trying to get a feel of who this stranger was. Eventually, the sound of music on the jukebox and Rosetta’s soft snoring helped to steady his breathing and lower his pulse. Smokes reached to flick off the lamp light and carefully settled back into the rickety mattress. He took one look at Rosetta’s sleeping face before staring up at the ceiling.

Imagine rainfall, accompanied by the sound of a warm guitar slowly picking away at the layer of your sorrows, haunting, yet beautiful. A sense of serenity entered his mind, extinguishing the flames that burn his soul. For a moment, Smokes could feel, and think nothing. So brief, yet so long, he felt at ease. The melody carrying him across distant shores, feeling weightless in its entranced groove. He flew with the progression of the song, eyes closed, allowing his emotions to guide his path. Up and down his chest rose. Beyond the murky sky, the white glow of the moon shown through the window.

A dainty hand touched his chest. Smokes reached up to grasp it, rubbing it with his thumb. His bare dick against his thigh began to grow. Smokes brought her hand to his plump lips and kissed her there gently. The bed creaked beneath them. Smokes glanced down within the darkness, his eyes connecting with the sleepy, doe eyes of his Rosey. Her naked silhouette entranced him. The dip of her hip and the way her breasts hung from her chest aroused him to no end.

It was the way her long, deep wavy hair fell over the pillow. The pearls around her neck made her look ritzy and those red-tinged kissers made him salivate to taste her again. She was breathtaking. And Smokes didn’t lie when he meant she’s the most beautiful in N’awlins. Rosetta sat up and Smokes looked up into her heavenly face. Her fingertips danced across the ridges of muscle on his torso, her eyes never leaving his.

“Can’t sleep, daddy?” She says, voice soft and warm.

“That cat of yours woke me up out my sleep, gal…”

“Not you afraid of cats now…”

Rosetta giggled. Smokes chuckled slightly.

“I ain’t afraid of no fuckin’ cat…I’m just…been out there in some shit, baby. This the first time I had decent sleep.”

Rosetta looked towards Smokes’ revolver. Smoke followed her eyesight.

“I want one. My own gun.” Rosetta said.

“Oh?” Smokes sat up, “is that so?”

“Mhm. You can show me how to point that thang since you back home. Remember, you said you would…”

“I did.”

Rosetta sat up and Smokes situated her between his legs with her back against his chest. Grabbing the revolver, Smokes pointed it in a safe direction. A safe direction means that the gun is pointed in such a way that an accidental fire would not cause any harm. Rosetta watched with great interest. Smokes accessed the cylinder, emptying the bullets before clicking it back in place.

“Aight, Rosey…wrap your dominant hand ‘round the handle…use this hand for support.”

Arms outstretched, Smokes helped Rosetta point the revolver straight ahead at a wall covered with peeling paper.

“Straighten ya elbows, doll…no need to cock it, but steady ya breath…finger on the trigger…”

“It feels…heavy.”

“Hm. Imagine it with bullets.”

Smokes grazed Rosetta’s neck with his fluffy lips. The lingering smell of amber and sweat against his broad nose.

“That’s how you do it. I’ll take ya’ out to shoot soon…”

The urge to stuff his fat dick in her again created a tickling sensation just beneath his navel. Smokes felt at ease being with his woman again. He’d never leave her side again. Even if Stacks got in the way.

Smokes gave Rosey a wet sloppy kiss to her neck. She tilted her head and his thick tongue grazed over the rapid pulse in her neck and directly over that spot that got her wet every time. His thicker fingers were groping her breasts. Rosey released a breathy moan before looking back at Smokes, one hand on the back of his neck, forcing his lips against hers.

Their tongues moved in tandem, the squeaky springs of her not so sturdy bed surrounding them. Rosetta spun around and straddled his lap. Smokes kicked the sheets away from him, adjusting his large body to accommodate Rosetta. The wobbly, metal headboard banged against the wall when she flopped down into his lap.

One hand around her neck, Smokes tugged lightly, bringing Rosetta’s lips to his again. His other hand reached between her meaty thighs to feel the heat and dampness of her folds. Smokes growled against her lips. His dick was cast iron hard and read to fit inside her tight snatch again.

“Tilt ‘dem hips…atta, girl,” Smokes tapped her pussy with his big dick, “Time to fuck on this dick again, baby…”

“Yes, Papa…”

Rosetta wiggled her hips down onto Smokes thick pipe and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Smokes popped her on the ass hard, his way of telling her to get all the way down. Fully stuffed, Rosetta grabbed onto Smokes shoulders and with a whirl of her hips and a bounce she rode him on that rickety bed like it was her last time.

The fullness stretching her out made her shout Papa, Papa, Papa over and over. Smokes was too damn big for that bed but he made it work. He dug his heels into the lumpy mattress and with both hands he kept her cheeks spread while pumping up into her as she dropped down. Wet, skin slapping noises mixed with the way the bed jumped and creaked beneath them.

The steel of the revolver pressed against Rosetta’s knee each time she bounced. It was rough like she needed it. Deep dicking in her bedroom beneath the moonlight. Smokes slammed up in her so good Rosetta spread her thighs more to feel it stretch her. She craved the soreness, the way it tugged on her clit, the slight sting of his heavy balls slapping her ass.

Pop pop pop

Smack smack smack

Clap clap clap

“Damn, Rosey, gettin’ real whacky on that dick, fuck.”

Smokes grabbed her hips and helped her bounce on his length like a good little fuck doll. Her wavy hair shielded her eyes and those pretty titties swayed in his face.

“You hittin’ my spot, Big Daddy…you hittin’ it so good…make your pussy cum…make your bitch pussy cum…”

“Rosey–”

“Dig deeper, Papa–”

“Grip this dick and wet it up with that sweet nectar!”

Rosetta choked his dick with her walls and her cum trickled down his dick and over his balls. Hand in her hair, Smokes slammed his lips against hers while thrusting deeper.

He needed her more.

Smokes put Rosetta on her back and her legs in the air. He dived back in that pussy with his toes planted against the mattress. Rosetta clawed his back up and they both watched it go in and out. Smokes savored her nipples with his lips and tongue, ignoring the hollow dents in the wall from the headboard.

He grabbed a foot and stuck her red–painted toes in his mouth. Rosetta was super soaker wet on that dick, creating a large stain beneath her ass.

“I just wanna eat you up and fuck you…”

Smokes stared down at that hairy pussy with her leg thrown over his shoulder. He released a breath that came out like the hiss of a locomotive. That shit looked beautiful. If he could paint a picture of the way his dick all big and long spread her open he would. The sweat and humidity in that room made it hard to breath. All he wanted to do was be in his woman. They’ll crack a window eventually.

Well, I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

You don't like good grindin', you ain't gotta bit of sense

It's been going on ever since the world commenced

If you don't like good grindin', ain't gotta bit of sense

‘Cause it's been going on, ever since the world commenced…

“That’s it, Big Daddy, cum all in your fat pussy…”

“Oh, yeah?”

Smokes folded Rosetta in half and pounded the fuck outta her. She furrowed her brows, chewed on that lip hard, and spread her pussy lips with those red nails like she wasn’t open enough already.

“Smokes! Yes! Don’t stop fucking me! Don’t stop fuckin’ your creamy pussy! Milk it, Daddy! Fill me up! Papa! That good hard dick!”

“Ahhhhhhhh–”

“Smoke…oooh…yes…yes…right there, daddy…don’t stop…ooooo shiiiit, daddy…fuuck….get it, da–DDY…”

Smokes gave Rosetta a heated glare and just like that he was filling her to the brim with his thick semen, painting her walls heavily. Dick slipping out, he painted her clit with more. Smokes rubbed his tip between her folds, eliciting a creamy noise. Their tired breaths mingled. Smokes slipped from the bed and stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

He ran a bath and took a piss. Rosetta perched her gorgeous frame against the doorway, body glistening from sweat and cum. She was a sight to behold. Smokes is a lucky man. A bar of Palmolive sat untouched on the edge of the claw foot tub. While Smokes shook the access urine from his dick, Rosetta opened a jar filled with lavender, rosemary, and chamomile herbs, sprinkling it into the tub.

It was big enough to fit the both of them. Smokes slipped in first and then Rosetta settled in front of him. They used a soap sponge to clean each other off thoroughly. This was serenity. Encased in her sweet embrace.

“I love you, Rosey.” He whispered.

“And I love you…”

——

The smell of bacon and butter wafted Rosetta’s nose that early morning. She sat up, messy hair in her face while she stretched her tired arms above her head. Smokes being gone told her that he was cooking up some breakfast. Rosetta threw her sheets back from her body and snatched a satin robe from a coat hanger next to her bed. Feet sliding into a pair of house shoes, she looked down and noticed deep scratches in the wood paneling.

She would need to cover that up with a rug or get someone to buffer that out. She didn’t want her mama to have a fit.

Rosetta made her way into the kitchen, the tea kettle whistling as she approached. Smokes moved about the small room with a blunt between his lips and his dick out and swangin. Rosetta admired his tight ass before her eyes swept over his muscular back. She could see that he was making bacon, buttered toast, eggs, and grits. Smokes sat the cast iron on the stove and looked back when he’d heard footsteps.

“Mornin’ sunshine…”

He pecked her lips.

“Smells real good in here,” Rosetta stole a slice of bacon, “I’m hungry from all that sex.”

“Gotta feed you then, huh?” Smokes winked at Rosetta.

Rosetta stole the blunt from his lips and took a hit.

She coughed slightly, Smokes chuckling.

“Careful wit’ that there, Rosey…”

She took another hit and blew smoke towards him to taunt him before sticking her tongue out. Smoke tapped her on the booty.

“Sit that pretty tail down. I’m a plate this food up.”

Rosetta settled in a dining chair. She noticed the news paper and fresh milk on the table. He must of gone to grab it. Rosetta grabbed the paper and opened it to read. She crossed one shapely leg over the other blunt between her fingers as she held the paper up.

“A train hijacking?” Rosetta announced with surprise.

Smokes glanced over at Rosetta while her brown eyes were glued to the paper. He packed her plate and walked over, placing it in front of her. Back at the stove, Smokes poured her a cup of tea.

“Jesus, killed everyone on board…”

“Gimme’ some neck…”

Rosetta tilted her lips towards Smokes and he stuck his tongue in her mouth. The grip she had on the paper slipped. Smokes snatched it from her grasp and placed it on the table with a loud slap.

“Eat, girl.”

Rosetta grabbed her fork but her eyes remained on Smokes. He could feel her staring while he situated himself across from her.

“Level with me, Smokes…you know ‘bout this?”

“Don’t know from nothing, gal. Eat.”

“I’ll eat when you talk to me.”

“Ain’t nothin to share, baby. Everything is copacetic…”

“Did Stacks do this?” Rosetta questioned.

Smokes’ fork clashed with the table. He gave Rosetta a pointed look of warning. Letting her know to drop it.

“Wasn’t Stacks. Wasn’t me. Wasn’t nobody to get all worked up over. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Smokes…I don’t want you gettin’ yourself in trouble. It’s enough that Phonzo wants you dead—”

“Phonzo punk ass already dead. Might as well call it what it is.”

Rosetta bit her tongue. She knew arguing wouldn’t get her the answers she needed. She didn’t want Smokes to return and get himself into deep shit. She knew he was more than capable of handling himself, but Rosetta needed him alive, especially if she planned to marry him and have his butterball babies.

They ate in silence, the food tasty. Smokes sensed that she wanted more, so he filled her plate up again and Rosetta thanked him with a small smile and a kiss. Smokes watched her eat while smoking his weed and when she finished he cleaned. Rosetta drank her tea with those smooth and thick ol’ gams teasing Smoke’s eyes.

As he scrubbed, Rosetta spread her legs in that chair and spread her lower lips with her fingers. Sweet pink graced his eyes. Smokes watched her stroke her clit. He was high and horny again. Dick stood out like a flag pole.

“You want daddy to eat that pussy…”

“Mhm,” Rosetta licked her plump lips.

Smokes dried his hands and marched over to Rosetta. He picked her up and walked her to the couch.

“Wait, not here—”

“This Miss. Doris’ good furniture,” Smokes laughed, not caring at all about the sofa, “Good thing it’s covered in plastic…”

Her legs parted like the Red Sea. Hips aching and inner thighs burning. Smokes wasted no time slurping on her pussy with a wet tongue and thick lips. Rosetta palmed the back of his head and mushed his face in it. He had a habit of being loud while eating pussy. She could feel herself creaming on his chin when he latched onto her clit to suck.

“Yes, oh, fuck, mmmm….”

Rosetta frowned her pretty face. She had a face that belonged in movies. A rare beauty. Smokes never took his eyes off of her, not even when she came in his mouth. He stuck his tongue so far up her pussy to catch it all. Her robe had spilled open, revealing that hot body to him again. Smokes reached up and rolled her nipples between his fingers while continuing to feast on her overflowing pussy.

Smokes popped his lips off her clit to stare down at his work, “you betta cum again,” He sucked again before stopping, “Cum in my mouth before I stuff you again,” He slurped her up again and Rosetta moaned out, “You know who this pussy belong to. Not Phonzo, not no other nigga…”

Rosetta had to pick her lip up to stop herself from drooling. Her eyes crossed as another orgasm rocked her body. She closed her thighs around Smokes head, unable to take the licks he was giving her.

“Got me ready to fuck again,” Smokes took it upon himself to bend Rosetta over the couch, “Bend that back…atta girl…daddy’s good girl,” Smokes spread her ass cheeks wide and grunted, “Shit, Rosey…”

He hunched his body and with the power of his hips he sank into that good twat. Rosetta rode his tip before he could even fit in. He popped her on the ass with his wide palm before thrusting up and deep. Already she was creaming on his dick. Smokes had her by the arms as he pounded.

Rosetta had that IT like no other. Pretty ass voice, pretty ass doll, perfect pussy, perfect face. Smokes watched her head loll back and forth from the momentous pounding he was giving her. That back arched and that ass jiggling. Her knees almost slipped from the sofa so Smokes had to fix her and put his hand in the middle of her back to keep her stationary.

“I’m a fuck a baby in you.”

Rosetta moaned and clenched his dick.

“Like that? Like when I tell you how I’m a get you pregnant? Like that, sweet baby? Make me a Daddy?”

“YES!”

“All wet on Big Daddy’s dick.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Rosetta yelped when his hand wrapped around her neck from the front, bucking those strong hips and slapping those big nuts against her clit.

Smokes growled deep and with two staggering strokes he came inside of her again. He abruptly turned Rosetta’s head and plunged his tongue into her mouth.

Crack!

Smokes slipped out of Rosey fast and stood tall. Rosetta turned onto her backside quickly, staring up at Smokes with wide eyes.

“Fuck was dat?”

Smokes moved with a brisk pace towards the window within the kitchen, he peered down past the small glass panel at his car.

“What is it, Elijah?”

Rosetta stood behind him with a worried look etched into her beautiful face. Smokes took deep breaths before exiting the kitchen, Rosetta on his heels. He entered her room and grabbed up his pants, uncaring that his underwear sat on the floor.

“Elijah!”

“Stay here…”

Smokes grabbed up his revolve and loaded it up.

Click.

He stormed out of Rosetta’s apartment and down the small staircase leading into the boutique. As he drew closer, his eyes became wild with anger. He unlocked the door and stormed out into the smelting heat with his gun raised. There, a brick lay at his feet. Smokes bent down to pick it up, his cognac eyes following a trail of broken glass until he came upon the shattered window of his Cadillac.

Some people gathered outside to see what all the fuss was about. Smokes peered at them, eyes accusatory and rageful. He knew it had to be someone from Phonzo’s crew. A cheap shot, but still…Smokes was furious. Chest puffed out, he tossed the brick and entered the shop. Locking it up tightly, Smokes turned to find Rosetta staring up at him with a fearful glance.

“They busted out your window…”

“Ain’t nothin’ I can get that patched up…”

Smokes grabbed Rosetta by the elbow, turning her back towards the stairs.

“Daddy gotta go handle some thangs…I want you to stay put and out the way—”

“I’m coming with you, Elijah—”

“No—”

“YES! Yes the fuck I am!”

Rosetta snatched her arm from his hold and stood firm as she glared down at him on the steps.

“I’m tagging along whether ya like it or not.”

Smokes clenched his jaw. Their eyes danced between each other before Rosetta turned her back at him, climbing up.

——

“Scotch…”

Smokes accepted his glass, adjusting Rosetta in his lap. He sat across from his twin, Stacks, the gold in his mouth gleaming. They were sitting in a bar, the sound of distant chatter and glass in the background. The smoke from the cigars they were smoking billowed out like a thick fog. Rosetta wore a chocolate–brown Blondell dress with pantyhose and embroidered T–Straps on her feet in gold. A cloche hat that had covered most of her hair and much of her face was a last minute accessory since she didn’t have time to fix her hair after sweating it all out fucking.

Smokes’ 8-panel hat sat over his own messy hair and he wore his button down shirt untidy with his white beater on display. Stacks looked dapper in his double-breasted mahogany suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Copper silk tie, and black and brown woven Oxford shoes complete the look. His fedora sat on the table next to him.

The Big Cheese took a sip of his own scotch.

“How was your night with that snow bunny?”

Stacks chuckled, “As good as yours was I’m sure, brother. Lay it on me…Phonzo askin’ to go war? Does he not know who he fuckin’ wit?”

“You know dat nigga stupid, Stacks,” He checks his dominoes, “I got word that he’ll want to meet up tonight. I’m not much for talkin’…”

“Hm,” Smokes puffed on his cigar before speaking, “You thinkin’ the corn field?”

“Dig a ditch or two,” Smokes threw out.

“I’ll get Monty on it.”

Rosetta listened to the twins discuss killing and burying Phonzo and whoever else in a corn field. She shivered within Smokes’ lap.

“How ya been, Rosey? Still singing?”

“Of course,” Rosetta smirked at Stacks, “Still gettin’ into trouble I see.”

“You mean your man here,” Stacks pointed towards Smokes, “He’s the trouble.”

“How so?”

“Go on and tell her how you was in Texas.”

Rosetta quirked an arched brow. Smokes shook his head.

“Takin’ his word over mine ain’t the way to go, baby.”

“Uh-huh.” Rosetta wasn’t fully convinced.

She grabbed Smokes’ glass and took a sip. Rosetta watched the twins play another round of dominoes and catch up before Stacks made his leave. He had to make sure things were in order before tonight. A jazz ballad played and Rosetta swayed her hips in Smokes’ lap. She could feel him poking and the thought of sliding up and down on that pole sent chills down her spine.

“Careful there, Tiger,” Rosetta lifted his chin with her finger, “I still gotta cook you dinner.”

“A meal before I bump off? My kinda lady…”

Josephine Baker–I Love My Baby started playing, her voice projecting in a way that emphasized a higher frequency, leading to a brighter, more nasal tone. Rosetta caressed Smokes’ handsome face while staring deeply into his eyes. She sang along to the words, husky breathy tone drawing him in.

Sometimes we quarrel and maybe we fight

But then we make up the following night

When we're together we're great company

I love my baby, my baby loves me

The spell she had on Smokes brought him to his knees before her. He stared at her with those bedroom eyes and a half smirk while she sang to him in his lap. That smoking hot chassis was enough to make him fuck her right there. Smoke tapped his foot and rocked his head while she serenaded him. Others in the bar watched with wonder while balancing liquor and ciggs.

When the song faded out, Rosetta gave Smokes a slow kiss. A wolf whistle echoed and Smokes removed his hat to shield them from view so he could tongue his woman down.

“If it’s a girl, I wanna name her Ella, after my mama…”

“That’s a beautiful name, Elijah.” Rosetta smiled against his lips.

“If it’s a boy,” Smokes took a sip of his scotch, “Emmett.”

Rosetta swatted his bicep with her dainty hand.

“What was that fa’?!” Smokes protested with a dimpled grin.

“I was thinkin’ the same thing!”

“That’s why you my woman…”

Smokes kissed on Rosetta’s neck causing her to giggle. They were both pleasantly faded.

“Is that Smokes?”

“Ida Mae…”

The curvy dame settled in front of them, dolled up and doused in perfume. The smell of Bergamot, Orange Blossom and Lemon burning Rosetta’s nose. Her back stiffened as she surveyed the woman with her sultry eyes and chandelier earrings. Her dark red lips quirked up into a flirty smile.

“When did you high tail back into Nola?”

“A day ago. Why’s you askin’?”

Ida Mae locked eyes with Rosetta for a second.

“Just missed ya’ that’s all. Stacks back too?”

“Ya’ know it.” Smokes replied, caressing Rosetta’s waist, “This is my woman, Rosetta. Rosey, this here is Ida Mae…”

“Pleasantries,” Ida Mae tilted her head in greeting.

Rosetta’s lips remained sealed.

“She owns that whore house in Storyville.”

“Is that so?”

Rosetta cut her eyes at Smokes.

“Yes, a good business if ya’ ask me. Selling pussy is on the up and up, especially these days. Got too much shit to stress about.”

Was he dipping in pussy she didn’t know about? Why the fuck would Ida do some disrespectful shit and flirt with her man in front of her? Smokes had some explaining to do.

“Well, just wanted to say hello. Good seeing ya’ Smokes…tell Stacks I said don’t be a stranger…”

“Will do, Ida.”

She walked away with a tantalizing sway of her hips.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” Rosetta cut to the quick.

“I ain’t fuck nobody else if that’s what ya’ asking.”

“You fuck Ida? Don’t lie to me Smokes…”

“Rosey, cut it out. Ida and Stacks used to fuck ‘round. Probably still do.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m no sappy bird I can tell. Prolly made a stop to that whore house before coming to me. Been writing Ida to keep that pussy ready—”

“Rosey, shut up.” Smokes said through gritted teeth.

“Shut up?” Rosetta kissed her teeth before pushing off of Smokes’ lap, “Go after her!”

Smokes narrowed his eyes at her.

“I ain’t lying to you, Rosetta.”

Rosetta stomped away towards the exit. Smokes followed after her, catching her before she could open the door. He walked with her in his grasp outside, the afternoon heat unbearable. Already he was sweating profusely. Smokes turned her around to face him. Rosetta pointed her gaze over his shoulder, refusing to look at him.

She could be so damn stubborn sometimes.

“I love you. Only you. You need to understand that and quick,” Smokes spoke angrily so close to Rosetta’s face his breath laced with liquor and a hint of chocolate and black pepper from his cigar wafted her nose.

Rosetta pouted. Smokes gripped her chin tight to make her look him in the eye. He needed her to know he was serious.

“Stop it, hear me?”

“Okay…”

She looked from his eyes to his lips.

“So damn hard–headed…”

He kissed her lips before popping her on the ass.

“I’m a drop you off at the shop, okay? I gotta get this window fixed.”

Smokes made sure Rosetta was settled in her seat before he got in. The drive was less than ten minutes. Smokes made sure she was situated, blowing her a kiss through the glass door of the shop before driving off.

Rosetta’s doe eyes followed Smokes’ retreating car.

She wanted to believe he was loyal to her and only her. He’d always been. Maybe it was her mother’s words making her feel insecure. Her mother hated Elijah. Rosetta planned to cook up a steak dinner for Smokes. Ready to get to it, she climbed the stairs and before she opened her door, she noticed a kitchen knife sticking out of the keyhole.

Rosetta gasped, hand covering her mouth. Fear consumed her as she stood there, staring between the crack of the door and into a pitch black abyss. It was eerily silent. Rosetta took a chance and pushed open the door. The light from the stairwell flooded the room. So far, as she peeked inside, she couldn’t see anyone.

Rosetta stepped over the threshold and grabbed the handle of the knife, tugging it to release. She held the knife out in front of her, hand shaking with nerves. Her glossy eyes bounced left and right. She fully stepped inside, frantically moving her hand along the wall until she felt the string of the lamp light. A pinch of relief flooded her veins when the room brightened.

That was all stripped from her just as fast when a gloved hand slipped over her mouth and the weight of a gun pressed into her hip.

——

Hope ya’ll enjoy part two 😏😌

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

[atypicalamortentia]

Yule Ball

Synopsis - The boys ask you to be their date.

Warnings - SFW.

Notes - All characters are aged 18+!

Words - 4.3k.

{Caffeinate Me}

SEBASTIAN SALLOW had no problems getting someone to agree to going to the Yule Ball with him, he was charming, charismatic, handsome, clever and funny. It wasn’t his lack of ability to find someone that was hindering him, but rather his inability to actually ask the person he wanted to go with: you. 

You were sitting in the Undercroft with him one evening, drinking your classic fire-whisky and chatting about your upcoming exams and how the Yule Ball was a pleasant distraction when Sebastian asked who you were going with. Curiosity glimmered behind his brown eyes as he watched your face twist and turn, a variety of emotions flickering through your expressions. “I’m not going with anyone yet,” you replied with a slight shrug. 

“What do you mean, ‘yet’?” Sebastian asked as he raised an eyebrow at your response. 

“Well, Amit actually asked me-” you started, but Sebastian cut you off. 

“Amit huh? That’s nice,” jealousy bubbled in his chest at the thought of you actually going to the ball with Amit.

“If you'd be so kind as to let me finish before interrupting me,” you reply with a cough, rolling your eyes. “Amit asked me to go with him, but there’s someone else I want to go with.” 

Sebastian took a large swig of the amber liquid before responding. “Someone else you want to go with?” For a second, with the way you were looking at him, Sebastian felt some hope swirl through his chest but that was short lived when you replied. 

“Yeah, but I doubt this person would actually want to go with me. I might just agree and go with Amit… What do you think?”

“Absolutely not,” Sebastian shook his head, determined to not let you attend the Yule Ball with Amit. Amit was nice enough, but he couldn’t treat you the way Sebastian could. “Who is this other person?” 

“It’s nobody,” you mumbled, averting your gaze away from Sebastians. 

“Why wouldn’t this other person not want to go with you? You’re smart, beautiful, funny and don’t even get me started on your personality!” Sebastian exclaimed, his voice slightly slurred from the fire-whisky. Your eyes widened at his words, a slight pink blush scattered across your cheeks in response. “Anybody would be happy to go with you.” 

“You think so?” you asked Sebastian, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“I know so,” Sebastian whispered as he leaned in slightly closer to you. Whether it was the courage he had gained from fire-whisky or his dire need to go to the ball with you, Sebastian finally spoke up. “I don’t think you should go to the ball with Amit. In fact, I don’t think you should go with anyone.” 

Your eyes widened at his words and you visibly frowned at him. “I want to go, Sebastian. I’m not going to not go just because you’re jealous.” 

Sebastian smirked at you, shaking his head. “First off, I’m hardly jealous of Amit. Secondly, I’m not saying don’t go to the Yule Ball Y/N. What I’m saying is you should go with someone else.”

“And who would that be? Because I’m pretty sure the only person who wants to go with me is Amit.”

“That’s not true,” he whispered, his voice husky. He leaned in even closer, so-much-so you could feel his breath fanning across your face. “I want to go with you, as more than just friends.” 

You blinked rapidly at Sebastian, wanting to make sure you heard him right. “You? Want to go with me?” Sebastian just nodded, watching as you thought and with every second that you didn’t respond to him, Sebastian couldn’t help but feel a little dejected. That was until you grinned at him. “I’d love to go with you, Sebastian.” 

He was shocked. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nodded your head. 

Sebastian placed his glass of fire-whisky on the stone floor of the Undercroft before cupping your face in his hands gently. He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs before capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. After a few seconds, Sebastian pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. “I’m glad. I’ll pick you up from your common room tomorrow evening, about six?”

“Sounds wonderful,” you whispered back to him, your lips tingling from the kiss. You couldn’t wait to see what the Yule Ball had in store for you and Sebastian, but whatever it was, you were eager.

OMINIS GAUNT hated the idea of the Yule Ball, after all, socialising with his peers didn’t exactly sound like a good time to him. The only reason he was going at all was because you and Sebastian wouldn’t stop pressuring him about it. You were sitting next to Ominis in Charms class when you turned to look at him, placing a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. “What is it?” He asked, turning his head to your general direction. He couldn’t see you, but he could sense you were staring at him. 

“Who are you going to the Ball with?” You asked softly, your voice a whisper so as to not disturb the class. 

“You and Sebastian?” Ominis replied, his voice sounding more like a confused question than an answer. 

“I mean who’s your date?”

“Date?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, your date,” you replied as if it was the most obvious question in the world. 

“I don’t have a date,” Ominis replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. Truth be told, he had wanted to ask you to be his date but had disregarded that idea altogether when Sebastian had told him to ‘dream on’. 

“Ominis!” You whispered. 

“What?” He replied, his voice a low hiss. 

“You need a date!” You responded.

“No. I don’t,” Ominis hissed. Truth be told, if he couldn’t go with you then he didn’t even want to go. “Besides, who would want to go to a ball with a man like me? I’m blind, remember?”

“So?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Well,” Ominis cleared his throat and sighed. “Usually women like to be complimented on how beautiful they look. I can’t see a thing.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Ominis. He was always putting himself down because he couldn’t see or compliment someone. “You compliment me all the time even though you can’t see. Just because you’re blind doesn’t mean you can’t show someone that you care.”

Ominis shrugged his shoulders, his behaviour half-assed as he turned his attention back to the front of the classroom. “It just comes naturally with you,” he mumbled under his breath, too low for you to hear. You drop the conversation and pay attention to Professor Ronan’s class, all while Ominis thought about asking you to the Yule Ball. He knew that Sebastian had implied that he shouldn’t even bother asking, but Ominis couldn’t help but think of the possibility you could say yes. Sure he was pessimistic about most things, but he couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of optimism when he thought about it. 

Ominis, as usual, gathered his things after class and took his wand out of his robe ready to make his way back to the Slytherin common room when he felt a hand intertwine with his. “What is it, Y/N?” He asked, his voice full of intrigue. 

“How did you know it was me?” You asked softly, your eyes widening. 

“A few reasons,” Ominis replied sheepishly before changing the subject. He didn’t want to admit to you that he had memorised the size and shape of your hand in his.

“Who do you want to go to the ball with? Come on, I’ll help you!” You exclaimed, dragging him along the corridors. 

Ominis let out a sigh and stopped in his footsteps forcing you to be pulled back against his body. You stammered out a quick sorry and put some distance between the two of you as you looked away from him with a faint blush on your cheeks. You were glad, in a way, that Ominis couldn’t see your flushed face. “Look, Y/N, Sebastian told me that I shouldn’t tell you but I can’t hold it in-”

“Tell me what?” You asked. 

Ominis squeezed your hand lightly before running his free hand through his blonde hair, letting out a nervous exhale. “Will you come to the ball with me?” His voice was a whisper, almost as though he didn’t want anybody else around the two of you to hear. 

“Are you, Ominis Gaunt, asking me to the Yule Ball?” You asked, a sly smile appearing on your lips. 

“I understand, I’m sorry I-” Ominis stopped his sentence in his tracks as your response and inflections fully registered in his mind. Ominis knew when you were smiling, and he knew when you were about to agree to something. “Wait… is that a yes?” 

“Of course it’s a yes, you idiot!” You exclaimed, squeezing his hand tightly. Ominis used his thumb to rub small, soothing circles on the back of your hand as he let out a breath he never knew he had been holding in. “Also, you spoke to Sebastian about this?” Ominis nodded his head sheepishly, his milky eyes looking away from your direction as if embarrassed. “Ominis you know never to listen to Sebastian’s opinion,” you chuckled, shaking your head in faux disapproval at your friend's judgement. 

“I know but he really had me convinced this time,” Ominis shrugged in an attempt to defend himself. 

“I’d be honoured to go to the ball with you Ominis,” you smiled softly before standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

Ominis felt his face redden at the feel of your lips against his cold cheek, electricity igniting deep within him. He couldn’t, in that moment, find it in himself to kiss your lips. The moment he kissed you had to be perfect, and what moment was perfect other than a ball?  

GARRETH WEASLEY had asked you to the Yule Ball plenty of times during the run-up. In Charms class, in Potions class, hell he’d even come up to you during lunch and make a grand gesture, but each time you would turn him down. Not because you didn’t want to go with him, you really did want to be the girl on his arm, but you saw his asking as nothing more than what you thought it was: a joke. He had approached you yet again asking you the same question, if anything the man was persistent. “Will you go to the Yule Ball with me Y/N?” Garreth asked, on one knee as if he was proposing to you. 

“Garreth I’ve told you a million times, no.”

“Why not?” He pouted, standing up and looking at you as if he were a lost puppy dog. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Look Garreth, you’re a really really sweet guy. You are-”

“If I’m so sweet and charming then why won’t you be my date?” He interrupted, causing you to roll your eyes at him. 

“I never said you were charming, but if you let me finish I’d tell you why,” you snapped, clearly beyond frustrated with the ginger's antics. “I won’t go to the ball with you because I don’t want to be asked out as a joke. I want to go with someone who genuinely wants to go with me.” Garreth stood there looking rather stunned at your admission, and he quickly realised that you thought his hopeless attempts of asking you to be his partner at the Yule Ball was a joke. Before he could say anything in response you turned on your heels and walked away to your next class. 

That evening, you had snuck out of your common room to go to the astronomy tower. The stars were shining bright and it was certainly a sight to behold. Your mind was swimming with various different thoughts between your exams and the upcoming Yule Ball when suddenly a cough caught your attention. You spun around coming face-to-face with Garreth. He eyed your curiously. “What’re you doing out here?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Needed some fresh air,” you replied, leaning against the railing of the astronomy tower. 

“It’s almost midnight,” Garreth reminded you. 

“So?” You asked, shrugging slightly. “What are you doing out here?”

“Needed some fresh air,” he repeated your lines back to you as he stalked over to you. Grinning at him, you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“What’re you really doing out here?” You asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence. 

“I had a feeling you’d be out of bed,” Garreth replied. “I wanted to speak to you.”

“Look, Garreth, if you’re going to make another joke about us going to the Yule Ball together, save it.”

“That’s the thing, I’m not joking,” he said quickly, his hands resting on your shoulders. “I want to go with you.”  

You cocked your head at him curiously, searching his eyes for any sort of a lie. When you saw none, your mouth hung wide open. “You want to go with me?” 

“Yes. More than anything!” 

“So, you weren’t joking?” 

“Merlin, no. I wasn’t joking,” Garreth smiled warmly at you and it sent your heart into a fluttering frenzy. You blinked rapidly at him, batting your eyelashes like a moth flying towards a flame. 

“I swear to Merlin, Garreth if you’re joking you’ll never see the light of day again.” 

“I’m not joking,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Why did you think I was joking?” 

“You kept making these big, overly affectionate grand gestures. Hell, some people even thought you were proposing to me earlier today because you were on one knee.”

“That’s my love language,” Garreth replied defensively. “The time to worry is when I’m not being overly affectionate and making grand gestures.” 

“Besides,” you ignored him and continued talking, the words coming out of your mouth like vomit. “I thought we were just friends.” 

Garreth took a step closer to you, resting his hands on your hips. “I want to be more than just friends with you Y/N.” 

“Y-You do?” You asked, shocked to your core. Garreth continued nodding, his smile widening at your shocked expression. 

“I want you to come to the ball with me, as my date, not my friend.” Immediately you nodded your head. There was no doubt in your mind that you wanted to go with Garreth, and so you didn’t hesitate to answer. You wrapped your arms around Garreth’s neck and pulled him close to you, nuzzling your head against his chest lovingly. It was sweet, the way his heart was beating so fast. “I take it the nodding of your head is a solid yes?” He asked, grinning widely. 

“Yes,” you whispered against his chest. Garreth brought a hand up to stroke your hair. 

“Wear something red,” he said after a few moments of silence. 

“Red?” You asked, slightly confused. 

“Gryffindor colours,” he replied, confirming your suspicion. 

“Right,” you nodded your head and pulled away from Garreth’s chest. “I should go back to bed, but I'll see you tomorrow?” 

“You can count on it,” Garreth smirked, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. You felt your heart flutter in your chest as his lips met your head. You brushed your nose up against his before planting your lips softly on his. Garreth was slightly taken back by your boldness, but accepted the kiss nonetheless, eagerly kissing you back. When you pulled away, Garreth was breathless, his chest rising and falling dramatically with each deep breath he took. “I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.” And with that, he watched you walk away from the astronomy tower.

LEANDER PREWETT was shy, nervous and anxious about asking you to go to the Yule Ball with him. In fact, he was insistent on not going at all, but when you batted your eyelashes at him and begged him to come, Leander couldn’t say no. “Who are you going with?” You asked Leander as you walked with him to your next class. 

Leander stopped in his tracks and rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I don’t have a date, actually.” 

You were shocked to say the least. Leander was a good looking man, who wouldn’t want to go to a ball with him? “Is that why you didn’t want to come?” 

“Something like that, yeah.” 

You sighed, sitting down on the bench outside the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom and patting the seat next to you for Leander to sit down. Nervously he looked towards the classroom door before obliging, sitting down next to you but leaving just enough distance to be considered respectful of your personal space. “You know, I don’t have a date either. But just because I don’t have a date, doesn’t mean I don’t want to go.” 

Leander nodded, a slight hum leaving his throat at your words. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go, he wanted to go and enjoy his night. The issue was he wanted to go with you. “I suppose,” he whispered, looking down at his feet. 

“Are you thinking of asking anyone?” You asked him softly, placing a hand on his knee. Leander became acutely aware of your hand gripping his kneecap and felt his breath hitch in his throat. He became a bumbling mess of a man as he tried to explain his predicament to you without telling you exactly why he didn’t want to go. 

“Yeah - I mean there’s this girl - but I don’t think she’d want to go with me and, I feel too nervous to ask her in case she shoots me down,” Leander muttered. 

“Who would ever shoot you down, Leander?” You asked him seriously as you furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re smart, charming and handsome. Plenty of women are just dying to ask you to the ball!” 

Leander felt his heart skip a beat at your description and he looked up from his feet to gaze into your eyes. Were you saying that just to be nice, or did you really mean it? Surely if you meant it, then there’s no way you’d turn him down… right? Leander let out a shaky sigh. “Do you really mean that?” 

You nodded your head, a bright smile playing on your lips. You hated to admit it, but the thought of Leander asking someone else other than you to the ball cut you deep inside, but you were his friend and you had to be supportive. “Why don’t you practise asking me? Pretend I'm the girl.” Leander looked horrified at that suggestion and he felt his palms become sweaty. You squeezed his knee in reassurance. “Don’t be shy, Leander, it’s only me.”

‘That’s the problem’, Leander thought as he opened his mouth to speak. His throat ran dry as the words came tumbling off his lips, and fast. “Wouldyouliketocometotheballwithme?” 

“Good, but…” you trailed off, giggling slightly. “It was a bit fast. Try to slow down, the trick is to act confident. If you act confident, but not too confident, you can’t go wrong! The girl will be like putty in your hands.” 

Leander took another breath and ran a hand through his ginger hair. He looked down at your hand on his knee before looking into your eyes once more. With a deep breath, he spoke. This time sounding more serious and determined than before. “Will you, Y/N L/N, attend the Yule Ball with me?” 

You removed your hand from his knee and clapped in approval. You couldn’t deny the beating of your heart in your chest at the thought of him truly asking you to the ball, but you shook your head, trying to get that thought out of your head. “Perfect! If you say it exactly like that, that girl is bound to say yes!” 

Leander furrowed his eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose. He decided to try again. “Y/N… Will you accompany me to the ball?”

You blinked at him, heartbeat thumping in your ears. You wanted to believe that he was just practising again, but the way Leander was looking at you made you realise quickly that he wasn’t. “M-Me?” You asked him, pointing at your chest.

“Yes. You.” 

“Why me?” You managed to stammer out, feeling your cheeks flush red from embarrassment. 

Now it was Leander’s turn to place his hand on your knee. “Because you’re smart, charming and beautiful,” he replied, echoing the words that you had used to describe him earlier back at you. “And I would be the luckiest man in this castle if you agreed to attend this ball with me.” You hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was just some prank. Leander squeezed your knee slightly, a gentle push for you to answer his question. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, you just nodded your head. “You mean it?” He asked, scooting closer to you. 

“Yes, I mean it,” you whispered softly, nodding your head. You felt as though the man had just proposed marriage to you. 

Leander smirked, all his insecurities washing away with a nod of your head. “Great! I erm, I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, nodding his head slowly. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Leander,” you smiled softly, watching as the man walked away from you. Leander couldn’t stop smiling as he walked back to his dorm room, the feeling of finally being able to ask you, making him feel as though he could do anything.

AMIT THAKKAR watched you from across the room as you talked to Ominis and Sebastian, your two best friends. Amit desperately wanted to ask you to the Yule Ball, but he had managed to convince himself that one of your friends had already asked you. He had lost himself in staring at you, only noticing his gaze remained on you when you turned to look at him. Clearly, Sebastian had pointed out Amit’s staring to you. Just when the embarrassment couldn’t get any worse, you stood up and began walking over to him. Amit stiffened as you walked towards him, his eyes quickly diverting away from you. Then your voice came, “hey Amit.”

“H-Hi,” he managed to stutter out. Amit finally turned to look at you again, a soft, awkward smile on his lips. 

“You okay?” You asked, voice silky and smooth. You sat down on the bench next to him, getting yourself comfortable. 

“Me? I’m fine. Are you?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“I’ve been better,” you replied honestly. This made Amit frown.

“What’s wrong?” He couldn’t help but ask you. 

“Well, it’s a bit silly,” you mumbled, shifting awkwardly next to him. “But nobody has asked me to the Yule Ball yet.” 

Amit’s eyes widened. Nobody had asked you? How could that be? You were utterly stunning. He couldn’t believe that nobody had asked you, not even Sebastian or Ominis. “So you’re not going with Sebastian? Or Ominis?” His voice held a hopeful tone. 

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “Sebastian? Ominis? Seriously?” 

“I-I just meant as friends,” Amit stammered as you shook your head, still laughing slightly. 

“No. I’m not going with either of them,” you stared at Amit with a grin on your face. “What about you? Who are you going with?” 

Amit shook his head. “Oh. No one.” 

“You haven’t asked anyone?” Amit shook his head, suddenly feeling very nervous. Was he making it obvious that he wanted to ask you? Should he ask you? He felt dizzy at your close proximity and sighed slightly as you asked another question. “Is there anyone you want to ask?” 

Amit nodded his head slightly, almost shyly. “Yeah, but, I can’t seem to work up the courage to ask.” 

“Why not?” You asked. “Surely whoever you want to ask would say yes! I mean, you’re amazing Amit. Don’t think about it too hard, and don’t think too harshly about yourself either.” You smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder comfortingly and squeezing gently. Amit looked at you, a slight blush peppering his cheeks. 

“Do you think so?” He asked, eyes widening slightly. 

You nodded your head. “Yes. I really do.” 

“In that case…” Amit turned to you, a gleam in his eyes. “Would you like to go to the ball with me?” 

Your lips turned up into a grin as you looked at Amit, both of your hearts beating rapidly. You didn’t even hesitate to nod at him, smiling widely. “I’d love to go to the ball with you!” You exclaimed, clapping your hands together excitedly. 

“R-Really?” Amit asked, shock covering his face. 

“Of course! I thought you’d never ask me,” you chuckle, shaking your head. Amit felt his face getting hotter at your comment. 

“Honestly? I thought I wouldn’t ask either.” 

“I’m glad you did,” you replied, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to your lips.

“Me too,” he whispered, letting your lips skim across his hand. This was a dream come true for him, and for you too. “What will you be wearing?”

“Ah, you’ll just have to wait and see,” you grin, a slight giggle in your voice. 

“Well whatever it is, I’m sure you’re going to look stunning,” Amit smiled, forcing you to blush lightly. 

“Thank you, Amit,” you replied, slightly embarrassed. You stood up from your position on the bench to make your way back to your friends, but not before pressing a gentle kiss on Amit’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Amit.”

“Y-Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”  Amit watched as you walked away, a wide smile on his face. He was already excitedly anticipating the ball, but now he truly had a reason to: he’d be dancing with you. Drinking with you. He couldn’t wait to see how beautiful you looked. To have you on his arm, finally.

[gemstone-roses]

I've got you

Geralt x Reader

Summary: geralt comforts you in the middle of the night.

Warnings: general anxiety themes, anxiety attack, fear, bit of sad, crying. Fluff. Bit of Size kink if you squint (whoops) can't help myself can I.

Huge hurt/comfort vibes, I need it okay.

Note: I'm having a bad week okay,🫠 reblogs and comments much appreciated ❤️ reminder this blog is 18 plus and so are all my works, including the sfw ones.

Hope this helps someone if they need it 🖤

Flames dance in front of you. The heat from the fire the three of you had made at your camp that night had stopped feeling warm a while ago.

Jaskier slept soundly in his sleeping bag by a tree, the dense forest you found yourselves in provided more than enough safety for you to rest for the night.

And of course, geralt too.

He sits opposite you, legs spread wide, hands falling in-between them. He's keeping watch for any danger.

You wrap your arms around yourself. Habit, when you feel like this.

You'd felt it coming when you woke this morning. It starts in your throat, your chest.

Jaskier struggled to get on his horse this morning.

Usually you'd make a sarcastic comment at his expense, earning an eye roll from him and a small chuckle from geralt.

Today you stayed quiet. You knew irritation would lace your words without actually meaning it.

Leaves rustle beside you as the witcher moves from his spot and sits back down on the log you were sitting on.

Geralts thighs touched yours, he was so big it couldn't be helped.

The slight touch comforted you though.

"I can hear your heart racing over the noise of the fire"

Of course he could.

"oh, sorry?" You say softly.

You feel your chest tighten, you try to swallow but your mouth is dry.

Geralts brows furrow, he's heard your sharp intake of breath, your heart picking up.

"fuck" he whispers, getting up.

You startle slightly when you feel two hands on your thigh, geralt kneeling in front of you. His Amber eyes laced with concern for you.

"Y/n" he says gently, giving your thigh a squeeze.

"Look at me sweetheart" he continues. He gently grasps your chin and turns it towards him.

Tears pool in your eyes as his gaze feels like it's seeing right through you.

"You need to breathe, okay?breathe with me y/n" he reaches for your hand, places it on his chest.

Your hand trembles, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on him. One of his hands holding yours on his chest, the other is still holding your face.

"Keep looking at me, good, it's okay, that's it , your safe, ive got you". He soothes, caressing your cheek as he speaks.

The tears pooled in your eyes spill free

"Geralt" you choke out

"I know" he swipes your tears away, his calloused hands still gentle.

"Just keep breathing with me, hm?" He keeps stroking your face, until he feels your racing heart calm slightly.

You stay like that for what feels like hours. His touch not leaving you. Your still trembling slightly.

"Im s-

"Don't" he pushes up from the floor , wrapping his arms around you and leaning down to place a kiss to your head.

"Come" he says offering his hand

You take it, standing up

"Let me hold you tonight, hm?" He brings your hand up to his lips and places a feather light kiss to it.

You nod, and geralt wraps his huge arm around you as he guides you to his sleep bag.

"I've got you" he whispers, pulling you tighter into his embrace.

[hihomeghere]

Fishing in the dark | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word Count : 1.3k (a little guy) Summary : You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota River. Warnings/tags : Cursing, unprotected piv, talk of nudity (both male and female), cursing, reader can swim, s3x in the river, established relationship, set in chapter 3

The Dakota River was now your favorite place to be at sunset. The cool breeze coming off the sparkling water, your body cushioned by the bed of grass. The way the setting sun cast a golden light over everything it touched.

Getting away from the gang for a while had been Arthur’s greatest idea yet. After all that mess in Valentine had led you to Clemens point. Sat on the east coast of Flat Iron lake, near the town of Rhodes. Getting eaten alive by mosquitos while the heat of the Scarlett Meadows sun beat down on you.

And although you thought maybe a room in Rhodes would have been a better way to keep each other company, you couldn’t beat this view.

Arthur stood on the shore, fishing pole in hand. His tall silhouette dark against the golden light, his shadow growing longer on the rocks. What a sight, every subtle flick of his wrist, his bicep tensing and he pulled on the pole. You didn’t even know why he was still fishing so late. He had already caught dinner, which you had prepared over a small fire. While along the shore you had picked some burdock root and common bulrush for camp, knowing that Miss Grimshaw could find some use for the plants. At long last the sun fell below the horizon, a sliver of burnt amber spreading across the sky before being enveloped by a dark blue. The moon slowly rose above you. A beautiful yellow spotlight peeking through the trees.

Arthur stood, still as a statue, as though he was carved of marble. A wicked thought entered your head, slowly you moved to unlace your boots. Pulling them off until you could dig your toes into the grassy floor beneath you. Then you untied the strings to your skirt. Letting the fabric fall, along with your shirt. Leaving you standing in only your chemise, and it wasn’t long before that was discarded as well.

Arthur had heard the slight rustling of fabric behind him, but he was honestly too preoccupied with the pole in his hands. Enjoying the quiet serenity of the river. That was until you ran butt ass naked into it.

“Darlin!” He yelled his eyes widening in shock as your laughter joined the sound of water splashing.

“Come on cowboy!” You called submerged to your waist, your breasts above the water for any passersby to see. Maybe it wasn’t your best idea yet, the freezing water chilling your bones.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled, unfortunately amused by your actions even though he knew he shouldn’t be.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You called back, teeth chattering by the sudden drop in temperature.

“It looks like you’re giving anyone that passes through a free peep show.” He called his hand resting on his gun belt as he not so casually adjusted himself. You stepped back further into the dark water until only your shoulders and up were visible.

“When did you become such a prude?” You chided a teasing smile on your lips.

“When someone could lay eyes on my woman.” He said laying down his pole, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt a shiver run down your spine, whether it was from his words or the cold water you couldn’t tell.

“Well get in here and claim your woman before someone else does!” You called, a shit eating grin spreading across your face.

Arthur sighed, looking down as the brim of his hat shielded most of his face from you. Your grin only grew as he unbuckled his gun belt, letting it fall to the ground. He pulled his suspenders off his broad shoulders. He shook his head, his own grin growing on his face as he began to pull off his clothes.

“You’re gonna get it girl.” He warned, his eyes taking on a dark haze. His lips pulling back into a smirk, looking down at you like prey. An electric shock of anticipation ran up your body as he finally pulled off the last layer, his cock springing up against his stomach. He stepped forward, wading into the water. “Jesus!” He yelped, a shiver running through him.

“It’s not that bad!” You called with a laugh.

“Not that-“ He shook his head, “Christ I can’t feel my toes.” He muttered swimming over to you, his arm wrapping around you pulling you close. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you held onto his shoulders

“Hey there.” You grin, watching the water droplets run down his face.

“Howdy.” He muses, you place your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat against your palm.

“Still cold?” You ask sweetly.

“Very.” He chuckles.

“I think I could warm you up.” You say biting your lip.

“Please do.” He says softly as you lean forward. Your nose bumping against his as you stare him down. He leans forward pressing his lips against yours. His tongue swiping along your lower lip as he pressed you down onto his pelvis. Clenching around nothing as his cock bumped against the nub of your clit, a soft moan leaving your throat.

“I can feel that.” You said softly, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes.

“I’m sure you can.” His chest rumbling as he chuckled. He moved his hand from your waist and reached down between your legs. The tip of his length catching against your entrance. “Think you’re wet enough?” He teases, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he smirks.

You bite back a rebuttal as he slips inside you with ease, he swallows your gasp as his mouth covers yours. Groaning into your mouth, a deep almost primal noise. One that sends pleasure shooting through your body. You whine as he pulls out slightly, only to press your body down onto his pelvis. His cock rubbing against that spot inside you.

He knows this dance like the back of his hand, how to make you tick, more specifically how to make you scream. The hand that’s not holding your hip with a vice like grip moves up your body, his hands splayed against your stomach. Before reaching up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple.

“Arthur.” You gasp, feeling him rut against you, growling against your neck like a wild animal.

“Feel so good darlin’.” He huffs against your neck, nipping and kissing as he continues his attack on your pussy. His cock thrusting deep strokes against your walls. Your body is buzzing, your toes curling as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. He can feel you flutter around him, his lips quirk up. He moves his hand down to between your legs, rubbing your clit.

You cry out, a pitiful noise as you cum around him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows knit together as your jaw hangs open. He smirks, tilting his head back as a low, shit, leaves his mouth.

His hips start to stutter as he pounds into you, trying to reach his orgasm while you’re still working through yours. He’s quick behind you, his hands holding you so close against him you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He thrusts into you one last time, a choked groan rumbling in his chest. You hold onto him as his dick twitches inside of you. Painting your insides with his seed. You smile up at him lazily, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit darlin’.” He huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your own. The bite of the water is no longer a thought as his warm body presses against yours.

“You warm now, cowboy?” You tease brushing your nose against this neck, pressing a kiss over his pulse point.

“Very.” He chuckles, “But I’d like to get my beautiful girl out of these waters now.” He says grabbing a handful of your ass before throwing you over his shoulder. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

[the-oblivious-writer]

Daylight |1|

Amber Freeman to Eventual Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter one: It's Nice to Have a Friend

Summary: You are enjoying a pleasant evening with Tara when things escalate for the worse when you answer a phone call from your girlfriend, Amber. There's only one person who can get your day back on track

Warning(s): Swearing, toxic!amber x reader, arguing, & implied anxiety

Notes: first chapter out. finally.

Masterlist|Next Part

You were currently napping at your desk, drool dripping down the side of your mouth as your trigonometry teacher drowned on about—something, you couldn’t really think right now. You were up until three in the morning preparing for your physics exam. You would be risking your spot on the football team if you got anything that wasn’t passing.

So here you were, knocked out in the middle of math, when all of a sudden something smacks the side of your face. It’s enough to get your attention, waking you up before you look around with a puzzled expression. You rubbed your eyes before grabbing the folded piece of paper that had hit you.

you drool when you sleep, the note read. You peaked to your left, glancing at the girl who sat one over from you. A smile began to graze your face when you realized who had thrown you the note. You wrote a reply on the corner of the paper before swiftly passing it back to the girl.

When she looked over to you, you were already looking up ahead as if nothing. She read the note; at least i dont watch people while they’re sleeping creep. She couldn’t help but smirk down at the note, playfully rolling her eyes before ripping off another piece of paper from her notebook to roll into a ball and throw it at you. You narrow your eyes at her but she’s imitating a confused look.

Then the sound of your teacher clearing his throat could be heard. “Ahem. Tara and Y/N, is there something you would like to share?”

You and Tara make eye contact before looking back at the teacher. 

“No, Mr. Quinn,” Tara said before you followed with, “No, sir.”

After a second he nodded, “Alright then—as I was saying.” He turned back around, continuing the lesson. 

When the class was over, Tara walked over as you were packing your things. You could hear her impatience as you did so which caused you to roll your eyes. “You don’t have to wait for me,” you told her while zipping up your bag. 

“And you don’t have to be the slowest person alive, but here we are,” she countered as you both began to walk out of the classroom.

“Whatever—damn it these halls,” you grunt after somebody slams into you. “We’re doomed if the school’s ever set on fire.”

“I don’t care what the code or whatever is, if the school’s set on fire it’s every student for themselves,” Tara replies.

“You do know that means right?”

“What?” She knitted her eyebrows, looking up at you as the two of you continued to walk in the school’s halls.

“Tiniest people go first,” you answer—immediately making Tara shove your arm.

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed, her dimples showing as she lightly shook her head. Tara’s hand was still gripping your sleeve, an action that neither of you took notice of. She’s been your friend, your best friend, since you were six years old; a bit of physical touch was not uncommon in your friendship, never questioned. 

Both of you were now leaning against a vacant wall, and just as she was about to open her mouth to say something else, another arm slipped around your waist, causing Tara to let go of your arm. It didn’t take long for this person to practically be clinging off of you—her arm around your waist, the index finger of her other hand hooked in one of your belt loops. 

Of course, who else could this person be than none other than your girlfriend; Amber Freeman. 

“Oh, hey Tara. Didn’t see you,” Amber backhandedly greeted without even looking at Tara. Amber had always been passive aggressive towards Tara. The Carpenter couldn’t explain it well if you asked her, but ever since they met—seventh grade—it’s like she has this vendetta against her. You were having lunch with Tara when Amber met you, and it didn’t take long for her to take a liking to you. She had developed a crush on you throughout middle school, it wasn’t until the summer before sophomore year that you and her got together.

And that is how the three of you were now in this hallway, Amber with her arm around your waist, your own arm around her shoulder, while Tara resisted the urge to gag at the PDA.

“I actually have to get going, but I’ll see you later?” Tara says as she starts to make a subtle exit. She no longer saw a reason to stay.

“Of course, see you around,” you send her a smile that she doesn’t hesitate to send back. That was something you could always count on her for. 

Your eyes don’t leave Tara until they lose track of her in the crowded hallway. Just seconds later you felt a tug on your belt loop and you looked down to see Amber.

“Are you coming to the party tonight? Marcy’s throwing it since her parents are out of town for the next few days,” your girlfriend explained. 

“Sorry, can’t tonight. I have to watch my little brother. Some other time?” Your tone was apologetic as you gently rubbed her lower back, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset you couldn’t make it to Marcy’s party. 

“Whatever. It’s fine,” was all she said—her voice monotone and dismissive—while she began to pull away. Your eyebrows furrowed at her actions and a pressure starts to envelop your chest. She started to turn to walk away from you and that’s when you reached for her hands.

“Hey,” you murmured loud enough for her to hear while you turned her back around to face you. “I’ll try and get the next one, okay?” You try to hold eye contact with her but she seems to find the ground more interesting. “I’m sorry, Ambs.” 

She finally looks up, sighing. “It’s okay. Next time.”

“Next time,” you nod as you bite the inside of your cheek.

Amber looked at you, letting out another sigh before saying, “I’m fine, Y/N—really. You’ll get the next one.” That tightening feeling in your chest begins to loosen at her reassurance. “I have to go,” she gives you a kiss, deepening it just before pulling away. “I’ll text you this weekend?”

You hummed in response, and the two of you shared another kiss before you both set off for the day.

After making sure you had everything, you began to walk towards the main entrance—leaving the building before making your way to the spot where you and Tara meet up everyday after school. You always walk home together, pretty much since you first started becoming friends. 

You leaned against the pillar as you waited for Tara; it’s not like you didn’t see her just a few minutes earlier, so she shouldn’t be too long. You look out ahead, blankly staring at the patches of ice that covered the ground; it was windy out, so much in fact you felt as though you couldn’t go without five seconds of blinking or else you would start tearing up. Thank goodness for eyelids—

—“Boo!” You heard someone shout; you immediately jumped back, startled, your hands were raised and ready to swing at whoever or whatever. But any thoughts of fighting vanish when you look over to see the culprit. “Jesus fuck, Tara,” you suspired.

She’s laughing her ass off, both hands over her mouth. You let out a dramatic exhale before saying, “I’m gonna get you for this. Just wait.”

“Oh yeah?” She replied between giggles, “What are you gonna do? Throw a football at me?”

“You’ll see,” you warned while narrowing your eyes at her.

Tara was finally able to get herself to stop laughing. “Of course you will, tough guy.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled as the two of you began to walk. “So, got any plans on this incredibly dull Friday evening?” You inquired while digging through your pocket for your gloves.

“Mmm not really,” Tara answered. Her arms always had a slight sway to them as she walked; it’s something you’ve always noticed, it’s one of the things that’s never changed about her.

“Then are you free to come over? My parents are out of town and I’m still gonna be watching my brother, but he’s probably just gonna be playing video games with his friends the whole time anyway,” you said; your hands were still digging around in your pockets.

“Yeah, I’m down.” Tara looked at you with raised eyebrows before saying, “Um, you looking for something?”

You suddenly groaned when you realized, “Shit. I left my gloves at home.” You roll your eyes at your own forgetfulness before stuffing your hands back in your pockets in an attempt to keep them warm.

“You can take mine,” Tara tells you. Without hesitation, she stops and begins to take off her own gloves but you put your hand over her own to stop her.

“Tara, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine,” you try to reassure her. 

At this point, you both have stopped walking. Tara shook her head at you, “Don’t be so stubborn. Just take them.”

“What about your hands?”

“I’ll survive.”

“Now who’s being stubborn?” Ugh, you were so annoying. How dare you use her own words against her.

“Fine. How about this, you take one glove and I keep the other one.” She looked at the hesitant look on your face before sighing, “If you don’t take it then I’ll just refuse to wear my gloves at all and then we’ll both freeze our hands off.”

“Fine,” you finally gave in, taking the other glove from Tara and putting it on. You slipped on only half of the glove before you realized something. “Wait. You don’t have pockets.” 

“Okay?” Tara looked at you confused.

“Where are you gonna put your ungloved hand?”

“Oh my God, I’ll be okay. I have—”

“—Warm blood? Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” you chuckled. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tara asked in a defensive tone.

“You said the same thing when we went to see No Way Home but all I could hear was your teeth clattering.”

“That is not true!”

“People complained!”

After a few moments of silence of seeing who would break first, you finally spoke up. “Okay. How about this, you use one of my pockets. Deal?”

“It’s not that deep,” Tara protested.

“...Deal?”

Tara rolled her eyes, shutting them as she sighed before looking at you again. “Deal.”

She got closer to you before you wrapped your arm around her, giving her right hand access to your right pocket. A smile grazed your face, “See now was that so hard, shortstack?” You teased as you lightly noogied her with your free hand. 

“You are such an ass and a half for that,” you heard her bitterly say.

“Yet you stay,” you said as you were both turning the corner to where your house was.

“I should’ve left you on that street corner where you were standing.”

“But you didn’t,” you remark while getting your key out of your pocket.

“Just shut up and open the door. It’s freezing and my feet still hurt from gym,” Tara complained, never dropping her hand from your pocket.

“Oh? I thought you were—what was it? ‘Warm blooded’ you said?” You smirked, beginning to turn the front door’s lock with your key. Tara started shoving you as soon as you unlocked the door.

“Hush,” she scolded you while taking off her shoes.

“No need to shove.” You kick off your shoes before placing them to the side. You and Tara make your way to the kitchen, placing your stuff down on the way in.

“Your parents already left?” Tara asked as you rummaged through your refrigerator.

“Yeah, they had to go to some funeral. Nobody I was close with though—I think it was a distant uncle,” you filled her in as you gave her one of the gatorades you pulled out of the fridge. “They should be back by tomorrow night,” you continued.

“And I’m assuming that’s your brother upstairs?”

Your little brother and his friends were currently yelling at each other over voice chat, you weren’t really sure what about but you knew it was video game related.

“Of course,” you said after taking a sip of your own gatorade, “Wanna head to my room or the basement?”

“Either’s fine, I’m honestly just beat. Anywhere I can lay down I’m totally open to,” Tara said while stretching out her arms.

“My room it is.”

—

“So,” Tara started; you were both on your bed, her legs on your lap as you both watched a show on your laptop, “what did the ice queen want when I left earlier?” The use of the nickname Tara had for Amber caused you to glance at her.

“Tara,” you said, giving her a look that matched your scolding tone. She mumbled something under her breath before you continued. “She just wanted to know if I could make it to a party tonight. I just said I couldn’t, and that was that.”

“Ah,” she replied in a monotone voice.

“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, that was just a normal ‘ah.’”

“If you say so…” You both turn back to screen, Tara reaches over you to grab one of the snacks before you feel a buzz in your pocket; you looked down to see you got a message from Mindy.

“Who is it?” asked Tara, followed by her shoving a few gummy bears in her mouth.

“Your sister,” you replied without hesitation as you typed. 

She shoved you with her foot, glaring at you for your comment.

“Nah, just Mindy asking if I’ll be at the party—oh, and apparently Wes too.” Tara immediately grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved her face against it, her loud groaning muffled. You laughed at her actions before continuing, “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Maybe he really is just curi—nevermind, I can’t even lie.” 

She let out an even louder groan. After a few more seconds, she finally picked up her head as she sighed. 

“We dated for like five minutes. That’s it.”

“You can’t blame the boy for being so obsessed with you. I mean, look at that face,” you teased as you pinched her cheeks. She rolled her eyes, harshly letting her head fall against your bed’s headboard. 

“Ow,” she winced. 

“14 year-old you just had to be polite,” you said while also moving your head to rest against your bed’s headboard. You tilted your head to face her, now looking at each other as you slipped your phone back into your pocket.

“That isn’t …exactly what happened,” her eyes trailed down to her lap.

“It’s exactly what happened. You would’ve felt too guilty to say no because his pet hamster had just died.”

“Ugh.”

“How come you’re never that nice to me?” You feigned a pout while reaching for your phone that was now vibrating in your back pocket. “Uh. I gotta take this. Gimme a sec.”

Tara didn’t have to ask who it was. She already knew from the shift in your demeanor and attitude.

“Hey…” Tara heard you trail off as you left the room. You closed the door, going off to the side and leaning against the wall.

“Hey.” Amber’s greeting was curt and monotone. Nothing good could come from whatever she was about to say next. 

“What’s up babe?” You hoped that your voice didn’t show how nervous you were.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me. What is this I’m hearing about you and Anika?” Shit. You know you should’ve told her sooner, you still would’ve gotten heat for it but at least it would’ve came from you and not a gossiping cheerleader just trying to stir up trouble.

“It’s nothing bad—I just need some help in physics and she agreed to tutor me,” you tried to explain as straight-forward as you could. 

“How do you conveniently fail to mention this? We saw each other not long ago, yeah? So how come I have to hear about this from Daphne?” 

“There’s nothing else going on other than studying. She just—”

“She just what?!”

“She just offered! She overheard me talking to Chad about needing to get my grade up!” 

“Yeah right, Y/N! Everyone knows she has a thing for you, don’t be so naive,” she scolded as if you were a troublesome child. “I bet this is why you didn’t want to come to the party tonight.”

“Are you kidding? I told you, I have to watch my brother tonight. And Anika does not have a thing for me. Why can’t people just be nice to me without you freaking out?” Now you were pacing back and forth.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to freak out if you would just tell me these things beforehand!” She shouted.

A familiar tightness in your chest grew with each word she threw at you, and your tongue felt as though it was glued to the roof of your mouth. What could you possibly say when you knew it wouldn’t suffice? You knew nothing you said would matter. You knew she wouldn’t have any of it.

“And you fail to notice half the school wants you—but once again, you’re just being naive! But I’m just your lame girlfriend, right? I don’t matter?”

You manage a scoff at her words. “Who—when did I say that?”

“Yeah go ahead, act like I’m insane. That I’m just making it all up in my head,” Amber went on as you rubbed the bridge of your nose. 

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m sorry, I just—”

“So you’re saying I’m not making this all up in my head? That I should worry about this?” This remark only made you even more exasperated from how insane it all sounded. This is insane, right? You’re not losing it? There really is no winning with this woman. 

“What? No! Of course not. Please just tell me what the right thing to say is.”

Then there was a pause that lasted a little over five seconds, but it felt longer. After the pause, you could hear Amber sigh over the phone. “I just need space right now.”

“I feel like… I feel like you always need space,” you confessed, aggravation at the tip of your voice. 

“Have you ever considered this is why? Maybe I wouldn’t need so much space if you would actually learn to listen to me for once,” she sourly shot back. Although she was no longer shouting, you could feel her burning frustration through the phone. You were all too familiar with her pattern of emotions when it came to disagreements with her. 

“I am listening but—”

“Clearly you’re not if there’s a ‘but’ to that.” Amber let out a dry laugh. “This is exactly why I need space; why we need space. When you wanna start acting like my girlfriend—you know where to reach me.”

She didn’t give you a chance to plead your case any further, hanging up the phone just as she spoke her last words.

You let your head hit the nearby wall as you slumped down to sit on the floor, groaning out. You tucked in your knees close to your chest before dropping your head to rest on them.

God, how could you be so stupid? You should know better by now—right? It’s not like you haven't had the same argument with Amber over and over again. It was routine at this point. Literally all your fights go about the same. 

You picked at your jeans, silently murmuring to yourself as you replayed the argument in your head. 

“Fine. Take your space. I don’t care.” Your chin rested on your free arm that laid on your knees as your other free hand continued to pick at your pants. “Are people not allowed to be nice to me? I don’t say anything when she studies with other people. What’s so different about me? I’ve never given her a reason to think otherwise…” 

Just then, the door opened. You looked over to your right, completely forgetting you were just outside your bedroom door. You looked up to see Tara staring down at you as she leaned against the door frame.

“Hey,” she greeted, walking over to sit in the vacant spot next to you on the floor. 

“Hi.” 

"Talking to yourself?" She quipped, jokingly, as a way to lighten the mood.

"You know me," you said. But Tara saw through to your thrown attitude.

“You okay?” She asked once she sat down.

“I’m… alright.” You responded, now looking at her. “Just the usual, you know.” There was a pause and a look that Tara was giving; you broke, sighing as you stared back down to your own fingers before speaking again. “She, uh, found out about Anika tutoring me. I guess she’s not Anika’s biggest fan or something.”

Tara knew she should comfort you. No matter how much she wanted to tell you that Amber was terrible, no good, and a bitch, she knew that would do no good. Reassurance was the way to go in these situations with Amber, no matter how much she hated the taste of her own words. “She’ll come around. She always does.” 

“Thanks…” 

A moment of silence passes before Tara gets up from her spot, your eyes tracking her movement. She reaches her hand out for you to grab before saying, “Come on, let’s play Mortal Combat or something. I’m bored and feel like showing off.”

You laughed as you took her hand and stood up. When you stood up, your fingers interlocked with hers, almost like puzzle pieces. She rubbed her thumb over your hand for extra measure. A sense of warmth flew through you and the tension in your shoulders start to release.

"Thank you, Tara."

-----------

A/N: drama, commence

Taglist: @alyciaddict @tropicals-things @orignalpat @lilbitdepressed27 @nahnahnahwhat @fanboy7794

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 3 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“I’ve got a body outside a bar on Main, and then you get attacked here.” Sheriff Hicks almost sounds accusing as she looks at Sam while speaking. “You said the call came from Amber’s number?”

Sam nods faintly, a distant look in her eyes. She’s been like this ever since she and Richie came back into Tara’s room, and even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m worried.

Not only did she almost get killed, she’s also got something on her mind that’s upsetting her. I know because she’s got that telltale crinkle of hers in her eyebrows.

“So?” Amber pipes up next to me. She came in a couple of minutes ago with Sheriff Hicks. “We know he called on my phone before when he attacked Tara.”

True, but it’s still a little weird. Why wouldn’t he just use a burner phone to make the calls?

I glance at Tara to see what she thinks about all this, but she’s just looking back and forth between Amber and Hicks, fear and uncertainty written all over her face. First she was attacked and now Sam.

Who’s going to be next?

“Or, and I’m just spit-balling here. . . You’re the killer,” Richie says and even though I neither like, nor trust him, I have to admit, he’s got a point.

Offended, Amber crosses her arms and stares at him incredulously. She looks like she’s about to say something to defend herself, but then Sheriff Hicks beats her to it.

She turns to him and narrows her eyes. “And where were you wenn all of this happened?”

Richie falters slightly and I can see him tighten his grip around Sam’s hand which he’s been holding ever since they came in. “I was. . . watching Netflix.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. Of course he was, how convenient. . .

Seemingly reading my mind, Amber scoffs and says, “Ooh, yeah. Super solid alibi, bro.”

“So, where were you?” He fires back. Then, he looks at me with raised eyebrows. “And what about you? Hmm? You just so happened to walk around the corner right after Sam was attacked?”

I stiffen and it takes everything in me not to walk around Tara’s bed and slap him. How dare he? I would never try to hurt Sam, or Tara for that matter. I can barely even kill bugs because I feel sorry for them, so how could I possibly hurt another human being like that?

“Excuse me?” My voice is low and dangerous and the only thing that stops me from snapping is Tara who grabs a hold of my sleeve. “How would I even do that? I’m injured, and I literally just got back to the hospital.”

Richie snorts. “So you say, but you wouldn’t be the first psychotic killer to fake getting hurt to divert suspicion from yourself.”

Fury pulses through my veins, but I don’t move or speak. Tara’s grip on my sleeve tightens and much to my relief, Sheriff Hicks comes to my defense while Sam continues to stare vacantly at a spot on the opposite wall.

“It wasn’t Y/N, or Amber,” she states. “Surveillance footage shows Y/N entering the hospital during the time of the attack, and it was’t Amber because I was questioning her and her friends at the sheriff’s station.”

I give her a thankful nod and place my hand over Tara’s, silently telling her that I’m not going to lash out.

“Yeah,” Amber says, leveling Richie with a glare. “I came as soon as I heard, but, you know, the Netflix alibi is good, too.”

I must admit, Amber and I never really clicked for whatever reason, but right now, she’s my favorite person.

Sheriff Hicks lets out an exasperated sigh and hands Amber her phone back. “Okay, both of you, stop it.”

“You’re going to put more cops on her room, right?”Sam’s voice takes me by surprise.

Tara glances at her sister and then back Hicks while Amber and Richie continue glaring at each other.

“Yes.” The sheriff’s face softens. “And I can move you to a private floor. Deputy Vinson knows what he’s doing, you’ll be safe.”

That last part seems to have been the wrong thing to say because Sam bristles. “Like we’ve been so far?”

Oh dear. . .

The air in the room shifts and I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for Sheriff Hicks’s reaction.

I know Sam can be short tempered and people usually dismiss it, but I fear this time she might have crossed a line. Sheriff Hicks is only trying to help, and Sam questioning said help isn’t doing anyone any good.

“Samantha, let’s step outside.” The tight lipped smile on the sheriff’s face makes me cringe and be thankful I’m not on the receiving end of it.

Sam clenches her jaw and looks at all of us for a moment before getting up and leaving the room with Sheriff Hicks.

Not even a minute later she returns, alone, and stands by the open door with a defeated look on her face. “Well, she remains a delight. . .”

I can’t help the way my lips twitch in slight amusement, and when Sam’s eyes meet mine, a bitter sweet smile briefly tugs at her lips.

“Are you okay?” Tara asks, putting an end to our little . . . moment?

Sam’s eyes dart to Richie, Amber, and then back to me. “Uh, actually. Would you mind giving us a second? I need to talk to Tara.”

“Of course,” I say quietly, squeezing Tara’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

She smiles softly and let’s go of my sleeve, watching Amber, Richie and me file out of the room before Sam closes the door behind us.

“So, you’re a fan of the Hawks?” Deputy Vinson asks when I run into him outside the bathroom.

“What? Oh.” I look down when he points at my hockey sweater. “Yes, kind of. I’m on the team.”

“Really?” He smiles.

“Yeah, but I don’t play professionally yet because I’m currently working on getting my Masters degree,” I explain.

Vinson lets out an impressed whistle. “Nice. So, you’re planning on playing professionally once you’re done?”

I shrug. “That’s the plan, yes, but we’ll see what happens.”

He nods and smiles. “Good for you.”

“Thanks.” I smile back and point my thumb over my shoulder. “I should go. Tara might need something and I think I forgot my phone in her room.”

He nods again and ushers me to get going. I chuckle and turn to leave, feeling my smile drop a moment later when I round the corner and see Richie standing at the door to Tara’s room, clearly listening to what’s being said inside.

“Hey!”

He flinches and steps away from the door, his eyes widening when he sees me.

“What are you doing? Are you eavesdropping?” I know the question is unnecessary, because he clearly is, but I want to make him squirm.

He takes another step back and raises his hands defensively. “What? No, of course not.”

I continue walking toward him, closing the distance between us until we’re almost toe to toe. We’re the same height, so I can’t say I’m looking down when I level him with a challenging stare, yet he seems to be shrinking in on himself the longer I stare at him.

“I was just— I wasn’t,” he stutters, trying to explain himself, but then a shout from inside the room cuts him off.

“Get the fuck out!”

Tara.

A second later the door opens and Sam comes out with tears streaming down her face. She winces when she sees Richie and me and quickly wipes at her eyes while trying to suppress a sob.

What happened in there?

The look on her face and the tears in her eyes remind me of the night eleven years ago when she snuck into my room. I still don’t know why she did it back then, but I have a feeling it’s related to whatever just happened between her and Tara.

Unlike that night eleven years ago though, I don’t make a move to comfort her. Not necessarily because I don’t want to, I do and don’t at the same time, but because Richie beats me to it.

He pulls Sam into a hug and looks at me over her shoulder, daring me to continue my interrogation from before. And even though I would love to do nothing more than just that, I drop it and slip into the room.

If Sam is this upset, there’s a good chance Tara’s not doing any better either, and when I see her, sitting in her bed with her own tears streaming down her cheeks, I’m proven right.

I close the door behind me and quickly make my way to the bed, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I whisper when she moves closer and buries her face in my shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”

“No. . .” She whimpers and hugs my waist. “Sam. . . She- She—“

“You don’t have to tell me what happened.” I cut her off, but she shakes her head.

“N-No, I do. You have to know,” she says, her voice muffled by our embrace.

I raise an eyebrow even though she can’t see it and ask, “Know what?”

Tara shudders and tightens her arms around me. “Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad.“

Five years ago

“There you go, buddy. Sleep tight.” I laugh when Liam groans and buries his face in his pillow. He called me half an hour ago to pick him up from a party because Paige is sleeping at her girlfriend’s tonight and he didn’t want to bother her.

“Thank youuu, I love you,” he slurs and I just pat him on the back.

“I love you, too, dude.“ I go to the kitchen and fill a glass of water before returning to his room and placing it on his nightstand next to some painkillers. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles again and then he’s out like a light.

I leave the apartment, locking the front door, and get into my car to start the short drive home.

It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m exhausted, but I’m glad Liam called me instead of driving home himself.

Yes it’s late, and yes, I’m tired, but I couldn’t have lived with myself if anything had happened to him if he’d gotten into his car, drunk, and gotten into an accident.

My parents woke up when I was on my way out, asking where I was going and when I told them, they simply told me to drive safely before going back to bed.

Now, I’m almost back home, and I can practically already feel the warm embrace of my bed again, but then I spot something that makes my heart stop.

Stumbling along the side walk with a man hot on her heels is Sam. The man keeps grabbing her arm, saying something, and she keeps brushing him off, obviously uncomfortable.

Her movements are uncoordinated and I hate the fact that I know why.

She’s high again.

Without thinking, I drive past them and pull over, stopping the car on the side walk right in front of them.

“Hey! Take a hike, dude,” I say, getting out of the car.

Sam and the man both come to a halt and stare at me. Sam barely even registers what’s going on, her glassy eyes staring right through me while the man scoffs and steps up to me.

“Mind your own business,” he growls. He seems to be in his thirties, has a buzz cut, and has a tattoo of a tiny rose on his temple.

“Sorry— No can do, pal,” I say calmly, trying not to cringe at the smell of alcohol on his breath. “She’s my friend, and you’re bothering her, so leave.”

“Or what?” he asks, smirking and revealing his chipped front tooth.

I sigh. “Or we’re going to have a problem.”

“Yeah?” He laughs and shoves me slightly. “What are you going to do, kid? Hmm? Call your parents? Or—“

My fist connects with his jaw, and a second later he’s on the ground, unconscious.

Was that a bit of an overreaction? Maybe. But did he deserve it? Definitely.

“Y/N!” Sam gapes at me. “W-What did you do?”

Even though she’s high, she doesn’t seem to have lost all of her ability to think straight. She sways on her feet and goes to crouch down next to the man, but I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and pull her back up.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” I say. She smells like alcohol, too, and I don’t even want to imagine the amount of drugs and alcohol she’s consumed tonight.

“No,” she slurs, weakly clawing at my arms. “I don’t— I don’t wanna go home. I wanna go— I wanna go with Josh.”

“Josh?” I ask. “You know that guy?”

“No— I mean, yes a little. He bought me a drink and—”

“He was trying to take advantage of you!” I argue, not letting go of her.

“No, he wasn’t!” she shouts and I cringe, hoping no one wakes up and looks out of their window because of her.

We’re in a quiet neighborhood, and I’m almost certain if someone saw us right now, they’d call the cops because they think I’m trying to kidnap her.

And I wouldn’t even blame them for it, because it definitely looks like it, but I’m really just trying to help.

This isn’t the first time I’ve taken her home after finding her high, and even though I’m used to the protest she puts up, the next thing she says catches me off guard.

“You always ruin everything, Y/N!”

I freeze and try not to let it get to my head, but her words tug at my heart painfully.

She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and loosen my hold on her a little. “Come on, Sam. I don’t want to fight. Just get in the car.”

Much to my surprise, a moment later, the fight leaves her body and she wordlessly let’s me lead her to the car.

I open the passenger door and help her in, making sure to put her seatbelt on before closing the door again and rounding the front of the car to get to the driver’s side.

As I open the door, the man, Josh, starts to regain consciousness. He groans and twists on the ground, making me roll my eyes.

Pathetic.

I know he’ll be fine since I didn’t hit him that hard, so I get in the car and pull back onto the road, leaving him behind just as he’s getting back up.

“I hate you,” Sam whispers a minute later. Her voice sounds clearer than before and the venom lacing her words makes me believe she actually means it.

She’s said it before, especially the first few times I picked her up from a party, but she’s never said it like this before.

It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s safe.

There’s a big chance she won’t even remember saying it tomorrow morning, but I know I will.

Neither one of us says anything else while I drive until I pull up next to the curb by our houses.

Seeing Christina Carpenter’s car in Sam’s driveway, I figure it’s not the best idea to drag her up to their front door and ring the doorbell, so I take her to my house after helping her out of the car.

She’s back to being completely high, head lolling from side to side and steps totally uncoordinated, so as soon as we get inside, I pick her up and carry her up to my room.

I expected her to protest, to tell me to put her down immediately, but she doesn’t. Instead she wraps her arms around my neck and holds onto me while I carry her.

“Alright, here we go,” I whisper when we make it to my room. I’m not afraid of waking my parents because they’d understand why I brought Sam here instead of taking her home, but I don’t want them to worry, so I try to stay as quiet as possible.

It turns out, opening a door with a whole ass person in my arms is more of a challenge than I thought, but I eventually manage to get it open, stepping inside and closing it behind us again with a soft click.

“‘M tired,” Sam mumbles, her fingers curling around the fabric of my jacket.

“Yeah, I bet,” I say quietly, feeling my own exhaustion wash over me. “Just a little longer, then you can sleep.”

I gently place her on the bed and take off her shoes before pulling the comforter out from underneath her.

“Do you need anything else? Something to drink? A sweater,” I ask, but Sam doesn’t answer. She has her eyes closed and it looks like she’s already asleep. When I move to sleep on my couch on the other side of the room though, her hand shoots out and she grabs my wrist.

“Just you.”

I hesitate and try to ignore the way my skin tingles where she’s touching me.

I hate you.

The memory of her words stings and makes my heart ache, but then she opens her eyes and looks at me pleadingly.

It’s the kind of look she always uses when she wants something from me, so a moment later, I cave and slowly slip into bed next to her.

“Thank you,” she whispers and the sincerity with which she says it makes tears well up in my eyes.

First she says she hates me, then she asks me to sleep in the same bed with her.

I’m so confused and exhausted, it hurts, and I don’t know how much longer I can endure this emotional roller coaster.

She changed after that night six years ago when she snuck into my room, and at first I thought it was just a phase, but then her dad left and as time went on, she pulled away more and more, avoiding me until, eventually, she started drinking and doing drugs.

There are moments where her old self shines through, like last week, when we had a movie night with Tara and my parents, but those moments are rare and these days, they’re basically nonexistent.

“Y/N?”

I freeze, her sleepy voice bringing me back to reality.

“Yes?” I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue, but she never doesn’t. “Sam?”

I turn my head to look at her in the darkness and exhale shakily when I realize she’s asleep. I admire her soft features for a moment, taking note of how grown up she looks now that she’s turned eighteen, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, I drop my hand on the mattress in the space between us and sigh.

“Good night, Sammy.”

The next morning when I wake up, I’m not surprised to find that she’s gone, just like that time when she snuck into my room.

I figure it’s probably best to give her some space, and let her deal with whatever she’s dealing with, but then, two days later, Tara calls me crying, and tells me Sam has left.

_______________________________________________

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec

[onismdaydream]

yuuji x older sister ‼️ he probably asks her to teach him how to kiss and stuff but then he gets turned on oops 😅 he just admires her so much and wants to make her feel good too :(

anon i am eating you i love this so much ...... i think yuji is so ... he gets attached very easily and he would definitely be like that with his siblings but tenfold. and he doesn't necessarily mean for it to be more than siblings, it just kinda happens where his feelings and love get so big that it becomes something else.

tw for incest (obvi..), mostly just kissing, not really anything smutty

his words come out rushed, fingers gripping his shorts until his knuckles turn white, but his amber eyes never leave your face.

"you want me to... kiss you?" you ask, slowly, almost as if you were unsure if you heard him right. but you know you did. you always knew what yuji needed or wanted. it started when you were kids, when his mouth was still learning how to form sounds properly and you were there to translate his butchered speech. you understood him like no one else.

it'd be scary if it was anyone but yuji.

"yeah." he nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"why?"

"because... well, because i don't know how." his eyes drop for a moment, landing on the space between the two of you. you haven't moved away from him, your knees still practically touching, legs crossed as you sit on your bed. part of him expected you to push him away, to call him disgusting and a freak.

the other part, though—

"okay." you hum, agreeing to it like it's the easiest thing in the world. and maybe it is.

-

the moments your lips touch, yuji knows that he never wants to kiss anyone else. your mouth feels so soft and warm against his own and he finds himself chasing you when you begin to pull away.

"yuji," you smile, a light giggle making his heart skip a beat. "start slow."

"right. sorry." but his gaze fall to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. the slightest taste of your chapstick lingers on him, a sweet strawberry flavor. something a bit too artificial to be real and now something a bit too you to be anything else.

you must take pity on him in that moment, must notice the sound of his heart thumping against his ribs, because you're kissing him again.

and then your hands are on him.

you lean forward, your palms resting on his thighs to steady yourself as you deepen the kiss. it's like electricity is flowing through yuji, his body overheating from excitement and bound to catch fire soon enough. but he wants more, needs more. it's not his fault that you're so addicting.

he tries to focus on the kiss, he really does, but your hands are so hot and burning through his shorts, and he can smell your shampoo and you're just so close to him that all he can think about is you. he feels guilty that his blood is rushing to his cock, knows that he should stop this before you notice but he can't. he can't pull away from you. yuji is always going to be drawn to you like the moon to the earth, tied to you from the moment he was born.

he doesn't follow when you break the kiss again. instead, he grabs onto your wrists, hoping you won't pull away. his eyes are half lidded, slightly unfocused, as he catches his breath.

"please."

it's all yuji needs to say for you to know what he's asking.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Misery (logan One Shot)

Summary: Logan blames you for a lot of your own misery

Warnings: Angst, rough commication

WC: 1.1K

Read on Ao3!

The rain poured relentlessly outside the small cabin, each droplet tapping against the window like a thousand whispered reminders of everything you had lost. You sat by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself, feeling colder inside than the storm raging beyond the walls. It was supposed to be different this time. You had told yourself that over and over again. But now, as the night crept in, you realized that nothing had really changed.

And that’s when you heard it—the door creaking open, the familiar heavy footsteps, water dripping from boots you didn’t need to look at to recognize.

Logan.

You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t face him yet. The weight of your words sat heavy on your chest, the confession you had been holding back for far too long. He was silent behind you, but you could feel him watching you, feel the tension crackling in the air between you like lightning ready to strike.

“Y/N,” his voice was rough, the way it always was, like gravel scraping against the bottom of a whiskey glass. “We need to talk.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze fixed on the fire. “There’s nothing left to talk about, Logan.”

He stepped closer, but you still couldn’t look at him. The room felt too small, like it couldn’t hold the weight of both your pain and his. He always carried so much darkness with him, and for so long, you had tried to shoulder it too. But it was breaking you.

“There’s a lot to talk about,” he insisted, his voice dipping lower, the frustration already starting to edge in. “You’ve been pullin’ away, and you won’t tell me why.”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t need to tell you. You already knew.”

He stopped moving, his breath hitching in his chest. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Finally, you turned to face him, the firelight casting a warm glow on his features. He looked tired, like he always did, carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. But this time, he wasn’t just tired. He looked… lost.

“I’ve been miserable,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “For months, Logan. And I still love you. You've made me feel so lonely and miserable lately.”

His eyes darkened, his jaw clenching as he processed what you had said. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, like he wasn’t sure what to say, how to defend himself against the truth you had laid bare. You’d always been the one person who could disarm him, and tonight was no different.

“You’re miserable?” he asked, voice thick with emotion he was trying so hard to keep in check. “You think I don’t know what that’s like? You think this is easy for me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you replied, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “I know your life is hard. I’ve seen the things you carry with you every day. But Logan, you shut me out. You don’t let me in anymore.”

He stared at you, those piercing amber eyes searching yours for something—an answer, forgiveness, understanding. But you had none left to give.

“You think I wanna be like this?” he snapped, voice rising. “I don’t get a choice. I got demons, Y/N. Demons that don’t leave me alone no matter what I do. You knew that when you got involved with me.”

“I did know,” you shot back, your voice breaking. “But I didn’t know that you’d use those demons as an excuse to push me away! Every time I tried to help, you shut me down. I’ve been here, Logan. Right here, waiting for you to let me in, but all you did was pull away further. You weren’t just miserable, you made me miserable too.”

The words hung heavy in the air between you, both of you breathing hard from the intensity of the confrontation. Logan’s expression faltered, his tough exterior cracking just for a second, revealing the vulnerability underneath. But it was fleeting, quickly masked by the anger and frustration he always defaulted to when things got too hard.

“So what, you’re sayin’ it’s my fault? I never asked you to stay,” he growled, turning away from you, fists clenched at his sides.

That hit you harder than you expected. The words knocked the wind out of you, and you had to take a moment to gather yourself, to stop the tears threatening to spill. He could be so cruel when he was angry, even when he didn’t mean to be.

“No, you never asked me to stay,” you whispered, voice shaking. “But I did. Because I loved you. Even when it hurt, even when I couldn’t breathe because of how much it hurt, I stayed. For you.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had ignited. He stood there, back turned to you, silent. For a moment, you thought he might just leave—walk out into the rain like he always did when things got too heavy, too real. But this time, he didn’t move.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, raw. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to let you in without hurtin’ you.”

You stepped closer, feeling the pain in his words, the truth in them. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Logan. I never needed that. I just needed you to try.”

He turned to look at you, and for the first time in what felt like months, he wasn’t hiding behind his anger, or his guilt, or his fear. He was just… Logan. The man you had fallen in love with, even when it felt like the world was falling apart around you both.

“I was miserable,” you repeated softly, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth of his body, despite the distance still between you. “And I still loved you. But I can’t keep doing this if you’re not willing to try. I can’t love you alone.”

His eyes softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I don’t want you to be miserable, darlin’,” he murmured. “I never wanted that.”

“I know,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek as you squeezed his hand. “But you have to decide if you want me to stay. Because I can’t do this if we’re both broken.”

Logan’s thumb traced the back of your hand, his roughness tempered by a gentleness that was so rare, so fleeting. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your heart aching with the weight of everything you both had been through. “Then don’t.”

This one-shot dives into the raw emotions of a fractured relationship, with both characters feeling the weight of their shared struggles, and the pain of love that isn’t always enough to mend what’s broken.