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toto-the-cactus · 3 days ago

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Primarchs + Daughters (2)

Finally finished the damn part two. Been kinda busy here and there with my new job but lo and behold, the one yall asked for. Soon enough, yall find out why it took me a while writing this one for the two main guys I had to add here.

Part 1 - Part 2

Konrad Curze

A’right, I’ll open this one with the fact we all know that this man shouldn’t even be legally allowed to have children. I’m gonna be real for a hot second and admit that I stared at the screen for HOURS not knowing what to write because any poor little girl that is born from this guy will have the dubious privilege of being the most sheltered and hidden secret the Primarch ever kept close. With all those visions of death and inevitable doom mixed with the sudden power rush that fatherhood gave him, it left in its wake a perfect storm for this lunatic to develop a paranoid and obsessive need (NEED) to keep his daughter safe; something hard to achieve when he already knows the essence of his Legion. His fatalistic nature regarding his own future would suddenly clash violently with the Primarch’s new found protective stance concerning his child. It's almost sad to consider that this poor man GENUINELY wished to avoid becoming the monster his visions showed, but knowing that he’ll be balancing in the thin line of one day hurting his precious girl (or worse than that) it'll put him in the hard decision of having to let go of her eventually. He is no Perturabo, for that matter. In the rare and far away moments of lucidity, I can see Konrad choosing to protect the innocence and life of his child by trusting in the last person ANYONE might expect the Night Hunter would seek help: Vulkan. Honestly this is just plain sad, man.

Sanguinius

This is it! The golden boy, yall! We all know the kind of person Sanguinius is, but add a precious little daughter in the equation and all you get is the perfect example of textbook girl dad. No matter how busy this man is, somehow he’ll squish some playtime with his baby and enjoy every bit of it. Seriously, this guy acting like a dedicated father is worth being in a stockphoto image. His baby girl asks him to play tea party? Some astartes will find their Primarch hunched over, awkwardly holding a comically small cup between his thumb and index while his precious princess pretends to pour more tea for herself. The daughter of Sanguinius doesn't go a single day without knowing that her papa loves her a lot and when the man isn’t around, the Blood Angels Legion are close to keep her company to the point that even she calls them ‘big brothers’. No one is safe when she wants to play dress-up. The single problem I see with Sanguinius when raising his little girl is that he sins of being completely oblivious to the more mortal side of his daughter’s needs. He easily gets so wrapped up in his role of The Perfect Angel that he doesn’t realize his tiny princess has boundaries that are being constantly crossed, but since she feels the need to prove that she can be like her father, endures all those problems and refuses to seek help about anything. It becomes a kind of toxic mix considering how much Sanguinius is loved and adored by others, to the point that his daughter becomes like a coveted gem too by relation, making her need to prove her own ‘perfection’ an unconscious action the older she grows. I’m not even gonna touch with a ten feet pole the “fun fact” called the Red Thirst on this one because, let's be fair, that would require for me to write more than 3 pages with ONLY Sanguinius and his daughter in the spotlight and that’s only assuming his baby girl didn’t inherit it. I specialized in visual arts and marketing, not psychology jfc.

Ferrus Manus

It took me a while but after some investigating and more reading I can safely put this man in between the Papa-tier and ‘tough love’ guys. His practical mentality and belief of the strongest are (oddly enough) healthily separated from his parenting skills. This is one of the few Primarch that can see their daughter as an individual of their own and makes sure to be as present as possible in her life but the loyalty of this man to the Emperor is his own flaw. Not in the case that he’ll choose the Imperium before his little girl, but because it’ll put him in the dreading and guilty notion that he’ll always prioritize his daughter despite his oath to serve for the Great Crusade. Most of his brothers (except maybe Jaghatai and Konrad) just assume or don’t even think about the long term future of their daughters or simply presume that they will become a great part of the Imperium’s well oiled structure. Not exactly their fault since they never grew up with anything resembling normal. On the brighter and wholesome side (whiplash change!), this is a man who finds handmade gifts more meaningful and always makes sure to explain the reason behind them mostly out of the enjoyment of watching his little princess look so amazed at her papa’s skills. More often than not, Ferrus’ belief of the strongest would falter a little as he perceives the true fragile nature of his daughter and, even if she share the resilient blood of a Primarch, that isn’t enough to convince him that she isn’t vulnerable but instead of letting the worry fester, he’ll try to teach the girl the art of fighting. That’s where the ‘tough love’ kind of guy I mentioned comes out to light. He will not spare kind words during those moments of teaching, as he wishes for his princess to prevail any difficulty but he’ll make sure to always end any sort of training with “I love you so much that the idea of one day not being there to protect you, pains me beyond any form” to make sure that his harsh actions have a reason behind. Honestly, it's the kind of father-daughter relationship that possesses so many shades that makes its own drama novel. Good thing that uncle Fulgrim is always there to smooth the hard edges that may come in the future and makes up for the lack of spoiling the little girl deserves. Ferrus is not amused by it. Forgot to mention that the Primarch will be even more motivated to take off the metal of his hands, for he has yet to truly feel the warm and soft flesh of his baby’s hand. It's the one feeling he keeps missing and craves so much.

Angron

Oh man, another of the hard ones. Okay, if I managed with Konrad, I can tackle this bitch too. You need to comprehend that we are talking about a guy that has been so intimate with the meaning of pain that it's amazing he’ll be capable of ranging through other emotions that don’t involve fury into that combo too. That being said, this whole shitshow of being the father of a young girl can only be described as sad AND tragic. First off, Angron’s daughter wouldn’t even be allowed to leave her chambers at The Conqueror for obvious safety reasons and having her stay on Terra can’t be an option too, as Angron would rather be death than leave in a silver plate this one single pittance of good he helped to create under the light of the Emperor. That being said, any little girl born from Angron would be terribly isolated and one can’t even blame the Primarch for that as he, despite his disposition, finds his daughter as a genuine reflection of what he could never ever dream to have or be. That sometimes results in him feeling short and spontaneous moments of anger from the impotence of not being able to be close to his daughter, let alone console her with anything resembling compassion. This is a man that is horribly aware that he’s away from one sharp stab of the Nails to his brain to end up killing his little girl in one single swat of his hand. The moments of anything resembling fatherly love are few and very tense, for Angron has to constantly be focused on not letting the pain control his actions and that always looks as if he’s dismissing his child’s love language or actions. What else can I say that most people don’t know already? This is just a sad story waiting to end in tragedy and had it not been for how Sanguinius ended during the heresy, I can see The Great Angel taking Angron’s daughter under his care as the only consolation and promise to his corrupted brother before his demise. After becoming a Daemon Prince, Angron’s only genuine and foggy memory of his little girl is her crying while calling him with heavy despair. Goddamn I almost tear up with this one.

Roboute Guilliman

Look at my big nerd! One of the few guys that actually is humble enough to feel more human than any of his brothers… sometimes. I gotta say it, Roboute has the vibe of what happens when someone incredibly autistic suddenly becomes a parent; expect lots of books to try and be prepared for what entails to take care of a mortal baby. He’ll have a wholeass strict routine of activities and diets that you AND the baby must follow to ensure both of your health along with “fun facts” regarding a toddler’s development that half of the time lack the keyword ‘fun’ in there. Honestly, Euten will be a BLESSING sent, for she’ll be the one railing back the most extreme attempts of her adoptive son to try and raise his little princess like she was just another task of paperwork. Over all his quirks, the Primarch of the Ultramarines is absolutely trying his hardest to be a good father just as the one that raised him, but this is a man that half of the time ends up clumsily trying to spend time with his little girl only for it to backfire as he simply doesn’t understand how to entertain his daughter. Good thing the child will simply be happy to spend time with her papa despite his weird personality. More often than not, some of the astartes will see the young lady at her father’s chambers in a little booster chair beside him, doodling on some papers to pretend that she’s a big girl helping her papa with his very important job. It's probably the most adorable sight anyone can ever get the chance to see. Just like most of his brothers, Roboute isn’t that good at expressing his love towards his daughter with words, so he simply let his little princess be on his lap and hug her as if it will be the last time.

Mortarion

I’ve written enough of this man being a father that you all can get a wild idea of how he will be when confronted with parenthood. Even if he believes himself to be undeserving of anything resembling happiness thanks to his perception of being nothing but a tool of the Emperor, this guy will only need to see his precious little flower and feel like everything in the world can be forgotten, including his ever festering negative emotions. His daughter is the single light of love that he selfilish believes is his right after such torturous upbringing although that mentality rarely affects his princess, as he simply shows nothing but care and tenderness towards her. He may be a nervous trainwreck, fully aware that his Legion and himself aren’t exactly safe-hazardous, but that never has stopped him from doing his utmost best to protect the little girl from anything that may hurt her. Like most of his traitorous brothers, Mortarion would not hesitate to bring entire worlds into devastation if it meant that his family can be safe, even if that’ll end up making a terrible gap to grow between him and those he loves. It's quite terrible and sad to know that, unlike Fulgrim or Angron, Mortarion was the closest to his daughter and showered her with as much genuine love as he could in an attempt to avoid being anything like his supposed father (adopted or creator equally), so when he turned into a Daemon Prince, the festering and rotting resentment that consumes him sometimes simmers down when he remembers the laugh of joy his little princess often released when he would carry her up in his arms. Oh yes, some good ol’ gut-wrenching emotional damage, teehee.

I will not apologize for being a mean bitch by writing sad shit. XOXO

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #wh40k #konrad curze #sanguinius #ferrus manus #angron #roboute guilliman #mortarion #itty bitty implied primarch x reader #gotta squint really hard #fatherhood #primarchs as girl dads #primarch #implied child negligence

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kamisatomay018 · 8 hours ago

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I’ll Always Stand Up For You

Sylus x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of childhood trauma, alcohol addiction, angst with lots of comfort, fluff!

Here is the Sylus version, enjoy!

Your life before you met Sylus was nothing but painful. Being the eldest daughter of two parents who failed at their jobs, you had to shoulder the responsibility of raising your two siblings. Your childhood memories were filled with covering your young siblings’ ears while your parents yelled and fought with one another after drinking too much. Glass breaking, cursing and screaming were all that would be heard all night long. You were only 6 years old when all this began, and it traumatised you for life. But that would only be the beginning of your suffering.

Your parents hated you for no reason. Perhaps they saw you as a burden, perhaps they were just vile people at heart. Your family was broke thanks to your parents, and you can no longer remember just how many days you spent skipping meals so that your family would have food in their stomachs. And yet, neither of them were ever grateful. You barely managed to get education thanks to your brilliance in studies which thankfully landed you scholarships. However you didn’t even get the chance to go to college, because your parents were so deep in debt that you needed to take up the burden and start providing for them.

Since the day you turned 16, you started doing odd jobs, exhausting yourself everyday so that your family wouldn’t go hungry. A waitress, a bartender, a babysitter; you name it, and you did all the jobs that you could get without needing a college degree.

And still, your family remained ungrateful.

They called you all the time, asking for money as if you weren’t out there working endlessly to pay their bills. You barely had two pairs of clothes, your once soft hands had gone rough from the labour you endured daily. Trying to put food on the table, pay off debts and endure your family’s emotional torture was too much to bear for you. You were deep in depression, hanging by a thread until you knew you’d break.

But everything changed the moment you turned 24. The day, you met Sylus.

Was it a coincidence, or was it luck? You could not tell. You worked at a restaurant he owned as a receptionist, when one fine day he walked in, and his ruby eyes landed on you. Never had he seen a beauty like you, never had he felt so drawn to a woman before. You were the most simple girl he had ever seen, and yet, he couldn’t get his eyes off of you.

From there began your fated encounter with the leader of Onychinus himself. It took him a very long time to gain your trust. But sylus was a man of patience. Truthfully speaking, he could’ve just used his aether core to know everything about you. But something in him told him to stop. The sadness and exhaustion in your eyes had made his heart churn, and that was the day he vowed to himself that you would never work yourself to death the way you had been doing since you were just a teenager.

Falling in love with Sylus was your saving grace. He was the air you needed to breathe, the pillar you needed to lean against and the embrace that always caught you before you fell. He brought colour into your life, he gave you a taste of things that you could never even dream of in your wildest dreams.

He had unlimited wealth, and his way of showing love for you was by spoiling you rotten. But to you, money had a whole different value, it was something that you could never waste. It took you months of convincing and reassurance from Sylus that he was more than happy to spoil you, and that you deserved it. And it took you months to confide in him of the truth about your life.

The day he learnt of just how much you had been suffering at the hands of your failed parents and ungrateful siblings, he truly wanted nothing more than to throw them out of your life. But he knew that even after everything you had to suffer by their hands, you still cared for them, even if he could never understand why. How could you ever be so selfless? That; sylus soon understood, was one of the main reasons why he fell in love with you.

It was the way you cared, the way you didn’t care about his own past, about his misdeeds. You just saw sylus, and you loved him unconditionally. Your love was enduring and passionate, it was never ending. You kept Sylus a secret from your family, not wanting them to exploit him for his money. Sylus had long since offered to just shut your family up with some money so they’d leave you alone, but you firmly stopped him from doing that. It was his hard earned money, and with how greedy your family was; they’d never stop asking him for money at your expense.

So Sylus respected your wishes, only after you complied with some of his conditions. Soon after he began dating you, he realised that you had a sharp and brilliant mind and he got you a better, well paying job in Onychinus itself, and he made sure that you never spent your hard earned money on yourself. Why? Because that was his job now. He spoiled you absolutely rotten, treating you like a princess. Soon, you got used to it, but even then you managed to surprise him by giving him small yet meaningful gifts from your salary. And that man cherished every single thing you gave him.

A crow keychain? It was now attached to his bike keys. A new blazer? He wore it to every important meeting. A new pendant? He swore to get buried in it but never take it off.

His love was pure, and so the day he knelt down on one knee to ask for your hand in marriage under the snowfall, you had no hesitation in saying yes and pulling him into a passionate kiss.

You were so grateful for Sylus that you could never explain in words. He gave you everything that you had desperately needed in life- love, security, kindness and respect. He made sure to never raise his voice when you were around because he knew it triggered you due to your childhood, he took care of you when no one else had, he spoilt you with endless luxury, but most of all, he made you truly feel important.

Along with your engagement however, came one burden- breaking the news to your family. You had sat down with Sylus, telling him nervously that you didn’t want to hide such an important news from them, and that if, and only if, he wanted to, you wished to introduce him to your family. You hadn’t seen them in years now and they never even showed any interest in wanting to see you. Their calls were always only for money, so Sylus couldn’t fathom why you were still attached to them.

But as understanding and patient as he was, he agreed to your request with a loving kiss on your forehead. After all, there was no way he was letting you go there all alone.

You both dressed up simply but elegantly, Sylus deciding to use one of his simplest cars- an Audi- to drive you to the apartment your family lived in, an apartment that you had rented for them.

To say that your family was shocked was an understatement. They were baffled the moment they saw you and Sylus, a man with an intimidating aura that screamed power and luxury. He held your hand in his, after he had promised you that he would be as civil as possible with them upon your request. But he had made one thing very clear- he would not tolerate any nonsense that came at the price of your respect.

The atmosphere was unbelievably tense as you broke the news of your engagement to Sylus. Your parents were infuriated that they had no idea that you were dating. But not for the reason any ordinary person would think. They didn’t care who you were with, they cared about the fact that they could see just how rich Sylus was, and that they could’ve had so much money by now. Of course, they didn’t say it out loud, but Sylus knew. One look at their greedy faces and he knew that he hated them even more now.

Soon your two younger brothers, whom you had been protecting all their lives, appeared, shocked to see you with a man as perfect as Sylus. They snickered to each other, looking at you condescendingly. “Wow, sis. Never thought that you would end up with such a good man.” Their comment made your parents laugh too, and your heart ache.

But Sylus? He was not amused. Not at all. His ruby eyes became darker as he glared at the two sorry excuse of brothers, his fist clenching. You noticed immediately, placing your hand over his before he could say anything. He was forced to keep quiet after he saw the subtle shake of your head and your pleading eyes. He wanted to get you out of here and just shower you with affection. You were an angel, and you didn’t deserve any of this.

“So son, when is the wedding? We expect it’ll be quite lavish, yes?” He heard your mother say, making him feel absolutely disgusted, even though his expression remained stoic. Him and be her son? Absolutely not. “Soon.” was all he replied with, although he was tempted to tell them that he didn’t want to invite them at all.

“A man of a few words, aren’t you? Ha! Thats what makes a good man.” He heard your father say to him. Sylus raised his eyebrow at that. What irony, he thought, for this man and his sons were the exact opposite of that. “Indeed.”

Meanwhile you remained silent, knowing it was taking everything in sylus to keep his promise of being civil to your parents. You were so grateful to him, as he continued holding your hand. That however, caught your mother’s attention as she saw the shining diamond ring on your finger, a big solitaire adorned with rubies, a symbol of your love with Sylus.

“You greedy girl, is that how I raised you!? How could you ask for such an expensive ring from your fiance?” She snapped at you, her voice loud which made you flinch. Sylus felt it immediately, as he pulled you closer, looking at your mother darkly. Seeing the intimidating glare of Sylus her sharp gaze faltered a little, but she continued to look at you in a disgusting manner.

Your father also looked at the ring now, and he scoffed. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Hoarding all your finance’s money for yourself while your poor family lives in such bad conditions? I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger!” Your younger brothers sneered at you, shaking their heads. You felt your breathing get heavier, remembering just how damaging it used to feel being around your family.

But then, all your thoughts were silenced by the familiar warm embrace that once again caught you right before you felt yourself fall. Sylus.

He stood up abruptly while hiding you in his arms, his evol emanating from him as it surrounded you both with its dark glow. Your family looked up, afraid of the man as he glared down at them with such anger in his eyes.

“Say that again. I dare you. Call my love a gold digger again, and I will make you beg me to kill you.”

Your family was speechless, stuttering and trying to find words. But Sylus didn’t give them a single chance. “You all are so fucking lucky to have this angel in your lives, yet all you have done is make her life hell, make her cry, make her ache. She has spent the better part of her life putting food in your worthless bodies and you have the audacity to call her a gold digger?”

“And you two.” He spoke, seething in anger as he turned to your brothers. “You are disgraces at the name of brothers, failures as men. You forgot so easily just who had been protecting you and feeding you since the day your worthless selves were born? Sitting here with no jobs, no ambitions laughing at a woman who pays for your food, for your clothes and for the roof above your goddamn heads, tsk, feel some fucking shame.”

You didn’t stop Sylus, rather, you felt yourself fall so in love with him again. For the first time, someone had stood up for you. For the first time you were the one hidden in someone’s arms, away from the pain. For the first time, you were taken care of in the face of danger.

“From this day forth, you all will get no money from her. My fiance will no longer send your worthless selves any money. Try to harm her, and I will make you regret every breath you take. Be glad that I am sparing your lives, because it is her love that has made me merciful. This will be the last time you see us. Once you learn just how difficult it is to earn money without a roof above your heads, you will understand how much she has suffered. Truly, I have no seen people as useless as all four of you.” Sylus spat harshly, giving one final glare to your family as he gently picked you up in his arms, hiding you away from them as he walked out, still seething in anger.

Once he reached his car, he let his evol open the door as he sat down, settling you down on his lap. “Sweetie, are you alright?” You heard his deep comforting voice, coaxing you to look at him. And you did just that, letting him see your teary eyes. Sylus swore that there was nothing that hurt him more than seeing your beautiful eyes full of tears. He’d rather take a hundred bullets, get stabbed all over than see you sad. He kissed your tears away, holding you close. “Sweetie, I’m so-“

You didn’t even let him finish, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt as you kissed him oh so lovingly. Sylus was taken aback, but he melted into the kiss immediately. His arms enveloped you once more with such protectiveness that it made your heart skip a beat. God, you didn’t deserve him.

“I love you…I love you so much Sylus..” you spoke breathlessly against his lips, parting just enough to look into those beautiful red eyes of his. He smiled at your words, as if those were the most beautiful words he would ever hear. And that was definitely true. “I love you more than anything, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for saying all that to my family..”

“You’re not upset?” He asked, caressing your cheeks gently. You shook your head immediately. “Why would I ever be upset at you standing up for me..? That’s the first time I felt someone protect me like that..”

His eyes softened, as he kissed your forehead. His gaze was full of love, as he spoke gently “Sweetie, I will always stand up for you. I will always protect you. You can lean on me, yeah? You’re never alone when I’m here.”

You smiles even wider at his words, nodding in response as you took a moment to hug him tightly. “You were always right, I should’ve cut them off long back..I just…I don’t know why I couldn’t do it..”

“It’s because you have a heart of gold, sweetheart. You are pure and loving, even to those who do not deserve it. But don’t love someone at the expense of the love you should give to yourself. You’re worth more than all of that, okay? You deserve only the best.” God, how was it that Sylus always knew the right thing to say?

“You’re right, Sy..thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you..” you spoke, your eyes genuine and loving.

He smiled at you, kissing your lips softly as you felt him whisper a lingering promise “You do not need to know sweetie, because I will always be there with you. Forever.”

#love and deepspace #lads #lds sylus #sylus x you #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus #sylus

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 day ago

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

i also i too use girl as gender neutral sLAYYY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💯 no notes

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

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

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

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

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

ur so me fr bestie

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

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

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

ALSO DAEMON YOU LITTLE RAT,

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

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

😬 yeesh fr.

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

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

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

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

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

UR LITERALLY ME FRRR HAHAHHAHHAHA

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

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

Tormented Spirit | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

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

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

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

@arabellasleopardcoat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"HOPSCOTCH!"

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

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

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

Erryk's face only contorts further.

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

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

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

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

You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Say what?" you knit your brows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel bile rise up your throat.

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

You shake your head, and gather your skirts.

"As has the prince."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare blankly at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw clenches.

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

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

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

You whip your head to him and pull away.

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

"W-what?"

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

You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Perhaps you should sit down first."

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

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

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

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

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

"Princess."

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

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

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

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

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

He stares at you wordlessly.

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

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

You nod, "I know."

"Go to him," he says softly.

"I-"

"Go to him!" he snaps.

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

Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.

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

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

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

Daemon does not move.

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

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

You stare.

"You do not want to go to him?"

Your lips part.

He raises his brows.

"I... I do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm fine."

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

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

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

"No."

You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,

"This is glass."

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

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

You pull your head back, "on accident?"

"On purpose," he tilts his head.

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

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

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

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

"..."

"You were not there."

You do not tear your gaze from his injury.

He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"

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

Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.

You continue wrapping up his hand.

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

"Why?"

His brows furrow.

"Why was I being a bitch?"

"..."

You spare him a quick glace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.

"How do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

His eyes meet yours.

"I am here to care and comfort you."

He leans back, taken by the thought.

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

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

You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.

"I don't-"

"Daemon."

He stills.

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

He feels himself getting hard.

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

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

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

"I..." he starts.

You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.

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

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

"I want you."

You nod, "I will tend to you—"

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

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

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

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

He hums, nipping your flesh in response.

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

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

"Please, Daemon, wait-"

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

Your breath hitches as he sinks down.

"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"

"I- that's not-"

"Do you or do you not?"

"I... I do—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You begin to grit your teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.

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

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

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

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

Your heart races as he takes your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Daemon."

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

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

"I will stay."

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

He frowns, wiping your tears.

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

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

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

#prettybiching cutie #prettybiching my beloved #tormented spirit #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon smut #you can have my heart #n my kidney

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urfavlarry · 3 days ago

Text

Cinematics

A/N. this is set in the modern era, so basically the marauders but it’s in 2024, no voldemort, everyone is just happy and alive !! plus this isnso bad istg💀🙏 im so sorry

summary. looking back on soft launching your relationship with Severus during your youthful years at hogwarts and comparing it to present time

requested. yes || no

not.yn

liked by s.snape, jamie.potter, b.rregulus and 17 others

not.yn Hey lover<3

ׂ╰➤ jamie.potter, b.rregulus and 3 others commented

jamie.potter maybe the schools weirdo can pull after all

b.rregulus when???? what???

lils.evans so happy for the both of u!! >w<

╰➤ jamie.potter yh me too or whateverׂ

╰➤ not.yn simp

posted 8 years ago

s.snape

liked by not.yn, lils.evans, rj.lupin and 39 others

s.snape You’re my, my, my.. My kind of woman 🤍

╰➤ not.yn, lils.evans, and 6 others commented

not.yn 🤍🤍🤍

lils.evans the best couple at hogwarts 🥰

╰➤ jamie.potter what about uss 💔

╰➤ rj.lupin and you called severus weird…

╰➤ jamie.potter THAT WAS IN 4TH YEAR???? STOP??

╰➤ s.snape i know what you did

╰➤ jamie.potter IM LIT GETTING ATTACKED RN YOU FORGAVE US LIKE HALF A YEAR AGO??

╰➤ not.yn bully allert cancel him🙏

posted 7 years ago

mary.macd0nald

liked by s.snape, b.rregulus, mars.mckinns and 25 others

mary.macd0nald enemies to friends (and some to lovers) 🌻

╰➤ not.yn, lils.evans, and 2 others commented

not.yn never would’ve thought we would all be a big friend group one day 🥹🤍

╰➤ s.snape tell me about it

lils.evans yesterday was so funn!! love you guys

mars.mckinns we need to do this again sometime!

posted 7 years ago

not.yn

liked by s.snape, jamie.potter, lils.evans, mary.mcd0nald and 68 others

not.yn welcome to the world baby girl 🤍 13/10/2024

╰➤lils.evans, s.black and 7 others commented

s.snape my two beautiful girls ❤️

lils.evans shes so cute 💞 proud of you mama

s.black uncles are gonna teach her how to have fun 🥰

╰➤ not.yn hell nah 🤺🤺

╰➤ jamie.potter hell yes ;)

╰➤ rj.lupin leave the poor baby alone she hasn’t even been home for a week yet (congratulations 🤍)

mary.macd0nald was just looking back on our teenage years!! so happy to have a new addition to our little group ❤️

b.rregulus can’t wait to meet her

mars.mckinns girl that speed ticket to the hospital was so worth it. happy for the both of you ❤️

posted 1 month ago

“Hun, what are you doing?” Severus whispered as he closed the door of your daughters room. He layed down on the coach next to you, putting a hand over your shoulders to bring you close, a smile spreading across your face, heart thumping even after so many years of being together. Severus looks down at your phone and his eyes turn to one of shock once he notices the photos he thought he’d never see again.

“You still have those? Thought you deleted them since it was like.. when we were 16?” He raised a brow and scrolled through the many pictures that had been taken in your younger years. “Yeah I just felt.. nostalgic. I’ve never deleted them off my account and I don’t plan to.” A chuckle leaves Severus’ throat and shows you the picture of him you took at the time you announced your relationship, putting it next to his face. “You think I’ve changed much?”

“Not really, you just don’t have your long-long hair anymore. We’re just 23 Severus, what were you expecting at this age? Wrinkles?” You flick his forehead and he winces sarcastically, giving you a dramatic pained expression. “You hurt me, darling.” He sits up and cups your cheek, pulling you into his lap with a sweet smile. “And I must say you’ve grown out of your shy phase and you do smile a lot more.. however I can’t say the same when were around other people.” You smirk, tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear. “And you haven’t grown out of your constant teasing.” He grunted into your neck and embraced you to hide the small smile forming on his lips. “What can I say? I guess adulthood hasn’t quite kicked in yet.”

However your statement got cut short once you heard your daughters sobs, which died down just as quick as they started. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as Severus breathed out a laugh. “You were saying?” He whispered, looking deep into your eyes im which he could’ve gotten lost in during that very moment. He lifted you in his arms and walked with you in his arms to your bedroom, laying you down onto the bed.

“How about we.. get a bit more nostalgic tonight, hm?”

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

#ᯓ★ urfavlarry #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape #young severus #snape x reader #snape #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #young snape x reader

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shrimpybbq · 2 days ago

Note

sarah finally meeting high school gf!au reader and maybe reader is super excited but also nervous bc she wants this to go well for rafe and sarah so badly

¡I hope I’ve interpreted this right!

I’ve kind of touched on this before, but Sarah and high school gf have always had a good relationship. For a long time, Sarah was all high school gf had when Rafe was out, unavailable and unwilling to partake in the raising of his son. They spent hours cooped up in Tannyhill together, dealing with a screaming baby and learning how to take care of baby together. Sarah had always liked Rafe’s girlfriend, thinking she was far too sweet for him and surprisingly kind and gentle - not at all the type she thought Rafe would go for. When she heard her brother and high school gf were going to be parents at 18, she was so disappointed, but she knew she couldn’t just leave her alone. High school gf had always been kind to Sarah, spending time with her when Rafe was out and Topper suddenly decided to cancel his and Sarah’s date. The pair would watch movies together and gossip, and then one day their gossip changed from boys to babies.

So when Rafe did what he did to Sarah (not that high school gf was aware) and she pulled away from him and their family, the older girl was heartbroken. Sarah was her family, and now she was gone. They would often see each other around the island and have small conversations, maybe a quick greeting from Charlie, but nothing like they used to. She knows Sarah isn’t ready to speak to Rafe again, and she honestly doesn’t blame her.

When Sarah showed up at their door in season 4, she’s secretly ecstatic. She knows how much this means to both of the Cameron siblings and when she grabs Emmy from Rafe’s lap, she can’t help the tremor in her hands as she picks her daughter up. She’s so nervous. High school gf places Emmy on her playmat in the lounge room and presses herself against the open balcony doors, desperate to hear the conversation. It’s not what she wants to hear, to be truthful, but it’s progress. At least they’re in the same room as each other - that’s more than can be said for the past 18 months.

Before Sarah goes, she gives high school gf a hug, squeezing her tightly. They’ve both missed each other so much and being separated was hard on both of them. Not to mention how much they miss Wheezie. Wheezie loved her nephew more than anyone, they used to say. Sarah has her found family with the pogues, but before them, she had her sister-in-law. She asks Sarah to come around again sometime soon, but when she hesitates, she suggests brunch at a cafe instead. To her relief, Sarah smiles and nods at her and the pair make tentative plans.

The born Cameron and the wedded Cameron have both been through a lot, but they have always found a lot of peace and security in each other and for them to begin to rebuild that is so important and valuable to them.

Sarah and High School Gf are each others number one supporters!!!! My girls!

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hnslchw · 3 days ago

Text

not what we wanted - LN4 x Reader

Summary: You haven’t felt this kind of ache in years. As memories of your relationship with Lando resurface, the lines between love and loss blur, leaving you grasping at the emotions you thought you’d buried. With every lyric you write, you’re pulled deeper into the bittersweet realization of what was—and what will never be.

Based on "the apartment we won't share by NIKI"

Themes/Warnings: angst (ofc), commitment issues??, no comfort, singer!reader, daddy and mommy issues (lando prolly doesn't have daddy issues but let's pretend pls) (Please let me know if I missed anything)

Word count: 1.1k

Author's note: Hello!! im so proud of this one i really hope everyone likes it. Please let me know what you think! Also if you want to suggest new drivers, characters, or new genres Ill try to make one for them, even though i only write once every two months HAHAH please feel free to ask <3 Anyways hope you enjoy!

The candle flickered on the desk as you stared at the half-filled notebook in front of you. The melody played faintly in the background, guiding the flow of your pen. Words scratched their way onto the paper, raw and unfiltered, each line peeling back the layers of a love that once felt indestructible. A love that belonged to you and Lando.

Two years ago, you had walked away from the man who, for a time, had been your entire world. The memories came rushing in as you tried to put them into lyrics, their weight settling in your chest.

The apartment we won't share.

I wonder what sad wife lives there.

Have the windows deciphered her stares?

Do the bricks in the walls know to hide the affairs?

You remembered the day you went apartment viewing with Lando. It was a sunlit afternoon, and the air buzzed with excitement as the two of you dreamed about building a life together.

“This one’s perfect,” Lando had said, his voice echoing in the spacious open floor plan.

You weren’t alone at the viewing. A couple—a woman with tired eyes and her distracted husband—wandered the space, too. The wife’s stares lingered on the window, and the unspoken tension between them was palpable.

When you and Lando got home that evening, he joked, “I swear, if we ever get like that, just put me out of my misery.”

You laughed, nudging his side. “Deal. Though you’re too busy to turn into a grumpy husband anyway.”

The irony cut deeper now. You hadn’t seen it then, but that couple was a reflection of what you and Lando were becoming—two people holding on to a love they couldn’t maintain.

The dog we won’t have is now one I would not choose.

A flash of warmth filled your chest as you thought about the day you met Charles’ dachshund, Leo.

“Now this is a dog,” Lando had said, crouching down to let Leo excitedly sniff his hand. “When we get one, it’s gotta be just like him—small, but full of personality.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You mean stubborn and impossible to train?”

“Exactly,” Lando replied, grinning as Leo flopped onto his back for belly rubs.

The idea of a dog—a small, tangible piece of the future you were trying to build—felt so easy back then. But now, even the thought of it was bittersweet.

The daughter we won’t raise still waits for you.

You wiped at your eyes, forcing yourself to stay present. The memory of late-night talks with Lando replayed like a broken record.

“I want a little girl someday,” he’d confessed once, his voice soft with vulnerability. “She’d be a daddy’s girl. Spoiled rotten.”

You had smiled, nodding along. You wanted to want the same thing, but deep down, you weren’t sure if you ever saw yourself as a mother. You had never told him that, though. Maybe you should have.

The girl I won’t be is the one that’s yours.

I hope you shortly find what you long for.

The breakup came rushing back, a scene you had replayed a thousand times in your head. It was late at night, and the exhaustion of trying to keep the relationship alive had worn you both thin.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you had said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. “I know.”

You wanted to be angry, to yell at him for not fighting harder. But deep down, you both knew the truth—you had drifted too far apart. You cupped his cheek, a sad smile on your lips. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Lando.”

The filthy joke that won’t

Burrow in the corner of your

Smirking lips, I mourn it to this day.

A laugh escaped your lips as you thought about the gala. You could still see the way Lando leaned in, whispering a dirty joke in your ear that was so wildly inappropriate for the setting.

Your cheeks had burned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scold him. Not when he looked at you with that stupid grin, his dimples on full display. You had never loved anyone more in that moment.

The story we won’t tell

Is my greatest fantasy.

The passion I won’t feel again

Isn’t lost on me.

You paused, letting the pen hover over the page. The weight of regret settled heavily on your shoulders. You had loved him deeply, even as the relationship unraveled. And now, the thought of never feeling that kind of love again terrified you.

The son you never wanted

Is the wound your father left.

And the mother I won’t be is

Probably for the best.

Your mind drifted back to one of your many late-night talks. Lando had opened up about his childhood, his compilcated relationship with his father. “I don’t think I’d know how to be a dad to a son,” he had admitted.

You hadn’t realized it then, but that fear had mirrored your own doubts about being a mother. Maybe that was why you had hesitated to dream too big about a family with him.

Your demons I won’t meet

Now someone else’s word to keep.

I’m sure she’s beautiful and sweet.

The song was nearly done when your phone buzzed on the desk. You picked it up, and the screen illuminated with a headline: Lando Norris and Fiancée Announce Engagement.

Your breath hitched, but you couldn’t look away. The woman in the photo was stunning, her smile radiant as she stood beside him. He looked happy—happier than you had seen him in years.

You closed the notebook, staring at the final line you had written:

Not what I wanted, but what we need.

The song was finished, but the story wasn’t just about you and Lando anymore. It was about letting go, about making peace with the love you had lost. You set the notebook aside, exhaling deeply.

Some endings weren’t tragic. They were just necessary.

#lando angst #lando norris angst #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #ln4

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paulyenvol6 · 2 days ago

Text

Bound by Flame (Chapter 2)

Contains: manipulation, gaslighting

Wordcount: ~2.43k

Masterlist of this story

The rest of the afternoon Maera spent in the safety of her chambers trying to calm herself and praying that her uncle wouldn't spread this rumour in the keep.

Because it really wasn't the truth, she simply had enjoyed Ser Harwin's company and hadn't intended to seduce him at all. She was a good daughter, virtuous and well-behaved and she knew how important her innocence was. Never, in no situation would she give her maidenhead to someone who wasn't her husband.

In the evening Maera couldn't avoid another encounter with her uncle though because she had to attend supper with her family. And so she entered the dining room where her father, her brother and Daemon were already waiting for her. Viserys noticed the traces of her tears at once even though the girl had looked to the ground rather than meeting the gazes of any of the men around the table.

"Daughter. Are you quite alright?", her father asked.

Maera just nodded, her eyes still on her feet and then sat on her chair next to Aegon and on the opposite to Daemon.

"Maera. Did you cry?" The king seemingly didn't believe her and furrowed his brow.

The girl felt the blood rushing in her cheeks and she didn't know what to do. Her father had sensed that something was bothering her but she couldn't tell him what had happened for two reasons. For one thing, the content of Daemon and her discussion could make Viserys question her virtue as well and secondly her uncle was at the very table. She couldn't speak about it with him here, it would be too embarrassing.

"No, it's fine, father. Really."

"Look at me Maera."

She hesitated for a moment but then slowly raised her gaze.

"Is this because of our conversation?" Silence.

"I know that this is hard for you, child, but you will see that it is for the best." Silence.

But then to her surprise Daemon started to speak and folded his hands on the table in front of him.

"Your father only wants what is good for you, niece. He wouldn't arrange this betrothal if he didn't know Ser Brandeth to be a good man."

Viserys clearly was surprised by the support of his brother and gratefully glared at him. Now was the first time that Maera herself looked at her uncle and when he met her eyes he fortunately didn't look angry anymore. Mayhaps he hadn't spread the word of her special connection to Ser Harwin after all.

"I know all of this.", the girl mumbled and dropped her gaze again.

"Good.", Daemon spoke and leaned back in his chair.

His brother wasn't entirely satisfied yet but as the conversation seemed to be over he grabbed his cup of wine and took a sip. In the meantime Maera's brother Aegon had ignored the whole discussion and just boringly ate the food in front of him. In any other case she would have tried to speak with him and have a proper conversation about his day but Maera knew all too well that he currently wasn't in the mood for such things.

She had observed him multiple times talking to the stable girl Tonya and the moody boy had seemed like a different person. And as much as she felt for Aegon she had to smile to herself a little. At least she wasn't the only person who was fancying someone she wasn't supposed to be with.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days Maera had multiple encounters with her uncle and luckily their ugly fight seemed to be forgotten. In the beginning it had been odd to simply not talk about the matter anymore and Maera had felt like there was a tension between them but minutes later everything was the same again.

He took her on Caraxes once more and they read together by the fire late at night. She enjoyed and savoured these hours with him when she felt almost the way she had felt years ago. The only difference now was that Maera didn't have this childish admiration for him anymore. She loved him because he was her uncle and because he was there for her but she was wiser now and too mature to fancy the handsome warrior she had once wished to marry.

She had been stupid back then. A naive child who had looked at her uncle with big eyes because he had been the first man she had ever loved beside her father. But Maera had grown up now, had developed into a noble woman of her father's court and had met many men and women from all over the seven kingdoms. She had learned about love and friendship, about what she wanted and had put aside her childish crush.

~~~~~~~~~~

A week after Daemon's arrival Maera was awakened in the middle of the night because there was something touching her shoulder and she opened her eyes at once. It had to be the middle of the night because it was so dark in her chambers that she could barely see her own hands.

The thing or better the person that had touched her shoulder turned out to be her uncle who sat by her bed and had brushed over her arm to wake her.

"Uncle? What is it?", she whispered and winked a few times trying to blink away the sleep in her eyes.

"I want to take you on a ride on Caraxes, little one."

"It's the night of the owl.", Maera scoffed. "Can't we go in the morrow?"

But Daemon shook his head. "You trust your uncle, don't you?"

The girl nodded without hesitating. "Of course."

He smirked. "Good. I'll keep you safe. Just come with me and you'll see what I have in mind."

Maera felt a mixture of curiousity and fear inside of her but first and foremost did she trust her uncle with her life, even though she hadn't seen him in years. He was her Daemon after all, the person that she had always turned to when something was bothering her and she would let him guide her blindly to the edge of the world when it came down to it.

So his niece got off from the bed and Daemon offered her a cloak to keep her warm. She had only worn a thin night dress and was glad about the coverage. Then the two of them left Maera's chambers and sneaked through the dark and empty corridors of the red keep, then out of the walls and down to the dragon pit. At nights there were no dragon keepers and Caraxes laid in his caves sleeping peacefully.

That was until Daemon and Maera appeared in front of him and the dragon was torn from his sleep. Daemon approached him, caressed his rough skin and then turned to his niece.

"Come, sweetling."

She did and once she was close to Caraxes smelling his familiar scent, her uncle heaved her through the air to help her mount the dragon as he had done a hundred times in the past. Then her uncle followed and took his place in front of her. Daemon softly ran his hand over her thigh and turned to her with a croaked smile. "Hold on tightly, love."

Despite still feeling unsure and a little overwhelmed with his visit Maera additionally felt this familiar warm bubbly feeling in her stomach. This smell of adventure and this deep trust she felt for Daemon filled her. So Maera smiled brightly.

"I will, uncle."

Then Daemon commanded Caraxes to fly and the dragon slowly crawled out of the cave and then when she saw the stars on the clear nightsky Caraxes pushed himself off the ground and shot up in the air. Maera closed her eyes as the air danced over her skin and all she heard was the wind in her ears. She had her arms tightly wrapped around Daemon and pressed her face against his back.

She felt good and light and knew that in the end her uncle would always protect her. Maera watched the stars who reflected in the deep darkness of the sea and didn't even really pay attention to her surroundings. It was like her mind had drifted far away and only when something changed in the corner of her eye did she turn her head and frowned when she recognized the outlines as Dragonstone.

"Uncle. Why are we at Dragonstone?"

She didn't receive an answer but also wasn't sure if he had even heard her. So Maera remained patient but when she realized that they were landing she squeezed her eyes and an odd feeling spread in her tummy. They were on the ground now and the wind didn't overshadow her words anymore so Maera tightened her grip around her uncle's body.

"What are we doing, Daemon?"

This time he turned around and gave her a mischievous smile.

"A nice trip to our ancestral seat. I thought it's just the right thing for you to spend more time here."

She bit her lip feeling uncertain about all of this. Of course she enjoyed spending time with Daemon and she also always liked to come here but in the middle of the night? Everything just seemed a bit weird to her but her uncle just climbed off his dragon and then helped Maera to the ground. And then he wrapped an arm around her and guided her to the stoney path that would lead them up to the castle.

"Are we going to sleep here? Does my father know about it, I just don't want to upset him."

Daemon assuringly ran his thumb over her shoulder.

"We can sleep here if you want to. And your father is going to be fine with it. You know how much he appreciates it if you know about our ancestors."

Maera chewed on her lower lip as she let her uncle guide her through the darkness. Of course she still trusted him, he was her uncle after all. She knew that Daemon had a mind of his own and it wasn't new to her that he came up with spontaneous and exciting adventures. Maera decided that she would try it, why not? She hadn't seen him in years and she was really looking forwards to spending some time and catching up with him.

And so the two of them strolled up to the castle talking about this and that. It was still a warm and light harmony between them and Maera felt herself relax. Once they had arrived at the castle Daemon greeted a knight guarding the castle who let them in as soon as he had recognized who it was. The princess raised an eyebrow but stayed silent while her uncle led her through the corridors as though he knew exactly where he was heading.

"Are you tired, little girl?", Daemon asked when she yawned and she truthfully nodded. It was true, the dark and quiet atmosphere of the castle influenced her state of mind and she felt her eyes getting heavier with every moment.

"Come on then. Let's get you to sleep."

Maera followed her uncle and only when she stood in the middle of a comfortable and big room did she realized what Daemon intended. She widened her eyes and stepped away from him.

"B-But we… You don't mean… I'm going to sleep somewhere else, right?"

Her uncle chuckled quietly and glared at her. "Oh little one. It's no big deal."

But Maera didn't relax and almost looked panicky.

"We can't sleep in the same bed, uncle. It wouldn't be appropriate." She felt the blood rising in her cheeks and looked to the ground, ashamingly toying with her hands.

"We're only sleeping, little one. Nothing more. It's the only way I can make sure to protect you. You know your father and you know that he is going to be fine with this trip of ours as long as he knows that you've been safe at all times. What do you think he would say if I told him that you spent the night alone in a bedroom with so many servants and guards around you we can't fully trust? How do you think my dear brother would react to that? Do you think he would ever trust you again?"

Maera looked worried now and inhaled deeply.

"B-But… Are you sure?", she doubtfully whispered and her uncle took a step towards her.

"Yes, sweetling. I will protect you. And that way your father won't be furious with you. If he knows that you've been in my presence the whole time he will know that you've acted responsible and with reason. Because your father knows that you're safe when you're with me."

Daemon observed his niece who looked like she was thinking for a moment but then she exhaled.

"Alright. If you think so."

He nodded contendly and turned to walk towards the bed. Daemon started to remove one layer of clothing after the other until he only wore his breeches. Maera's eyes fluttered and she couldn't help glance at him doubtfully but then she found that she had on other choice but to trust him. So she removed her huge cloak and slipped under the blanket only wearing her night gown. Her uncle joined and sighed as he folded his hands over his stomach.

"Remember when we were here last time?"

Maera turned her head to watch his profile. "Yes. You showed me around the caves. And in the evening we sat by the beach and you lit a fire and we roasted lamb over it." She giggled. "We were up all night and the next day I fell asleep during my lessons with septa Julvra."

Daemon smirked and glared at her. "Yeah.", was all he said but now Maera became sad and examined the side of his face.

"Why did you leave me, uncle? I was alone and I… I would've needed you."

His chest heaved and then he finally also shifted his head to look at his niece.

"It wasn't my choice, little girl. I didn't want to go, you know that, don't you?"

Maera nodded but with tears glistening in her eyes.

"I know. But… I don't know, I just… it was so hard.", she pressed and Daemon reached out to caress her hair.

"I know, little one. I know." Maera looked absent as she chewed on her thumb and Daemon thoughfully took her hand.

"Sleep now, Maera. And don't chew on your finger."

She nodded unwillingly, turned on her back and entered a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss @coffeebooksrain18

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myloviestar · 3 days ago

Text

Babies & Long nights

The days following Ava's birth felt surreal. The hospital room was a sanctuary in its own way—a cocoon shielding them from the chaos of the world outside. Rafe couldn’t stop staring at her, his daughter, wrapped snugly in a pink blanket, her tiny fists peeking out as she squirmed in her sleep.

Y/N lay in the bed, her exhaustion evident, but the soft smile on her face told Rafe everything he needed to know: she was happy. Truly happy.

“She looks like you,” Rafe murmured, brushing a finger gently over Ava’s tiny hand.

Y/N smirked. “If she ends up with your attitude, we’re doomed.”

Rafe chuckled, though the thought struck him—would Ava grow up to see him as a good man? Would he be the kind of father she deserved? The fear crept in like a shadow, but Y/N’s voice pulled him back.

“You’re doing great already, Rafe,” she said, reading his thoughts like she always did. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just love her. That’s enough.”

A Few Weeks Later

Life with a newborn wasn’t easy. The sleepless nights, the endless diaper changes, and Ava’s knack for crying just as they sat down to eat tested them in ways they hadn’t anticipated.

One night, Rafe found himself in the nursery, pacing back and forth with Ava cradled against his chest. She was wailing, her tiny face scrunched in frustration, and nothing he did seemed to help.

“C’mon, baby girl,” he whispered, bouncing slightly. “Work with me here. What do you need? A new diaper? A bottle? Daddy’s losing it.”

From the doorway, Y/N appeared, her hair messy from sleep and a tired smile on her lips. “Let me try.”

Rafe handed Ava over reluctantly. “She hates me tonight.”

Y/N chuckled softly, rocking Ava in her arms. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s just dramatic. Wonder where she gets that from?”

Rafe raised an eyebrow but said nothing, watching as Y/N hummed softly, Ava’s cries quieting within minutes.

“How do you do that?” he asked, both impressed and slightly envious.

Y/N shrugged, a twinkle in her eye. “Mom magic. You’ll get there.”

#myloviestar rafe #rafe x black reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe #rafe fanfiction #outerbanks rafe

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amethystarachnid · 2 days ago

Note

Thank you for writing my little Tony story 🤍

If it's not too much, can you write a second part for me please? Tony and reader finding out the baby's gender, Tony surprising her with a beautiful surprise proposal, maybe the other Anvegers can even help 🤍 the marriage and the baby's birth? 🤍🤍🤍 I lobe family man Tony too, it's so cute 🤍🤍🤍

Thank you!

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: it's almost time for the baby's arrival so Tony decides that it's the perfect time to propose, as he drops to one knee you're sure you've found your happy ending,

ᯓ★ TW(s): childbirth

ᯓ★ I love family man Tony so much, matter of fact, I love every character seen as a family man I don't know why lol.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The baby shower is shaping up to be a bigger event than you ever expected, though you probably should’ve seen it coming. With the Avengers involved, nothing is ever subtle. Tony, of course, is no help in scaling things back. In fact, he’s leaning into the chaos, throwing out extravagant suggestions like hiring live performers or setting up a drone fireworks display. You shoot most of his ideas down, insisting that this is a baby shower, not a red-carpet event.

Still, the excitement is infectious. Natasha takes charge of the planning—she’s surprisingly good at it, efficient and precise, down to the last detail. She ropes Bruce into helping, and the two of them become the only ones who know the baby’s gender. The rest of the team, including you and Tony, are kept in the dark, much to Tony’s annoyance.

“I don’t see why I can’t bribe Banner,” Tony grumbles one afternoon as he paces the kitchen. “He’s a terrible liar, anyway. A few drinks, a little sweet-talking, and he’d spill.”

“Good luck with that,” you reply with a smirk, stirring a cup of tea. “Natasha would kill him if he said anything. And you know she could.”

“Fair point,” Tony concedes, though he still looks annoyed. “Still, I’m calling it now: it’s a girl. She’s going to be brilliant, gorgeous, and way too smart for her own good. Just like her mom.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, really? Because I’m thinking it’s a boy. Stubborn, full of energy, and probably way too much like you.”

“Not possible,” he says with mock seriousness. “There’s only room for one of me in this world.”

Clint chimes in later that evening when the team gathers in the common room, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he munches on a bag of chips. “I’m betting on a boy,” he says, pointing a chip in your direction. “Gotta have someone to teach archery to. Plus, Stark with a son? That’s comedy gold.”

Thor, who’s been helping decorate the living room with streamers and balloons (many of which are Asgardian-sized), disagrees. “A daughter would be most fitting,” he declares, his voice booming. “She will have the strength of her father and the grace of her mother. A true warrior!”

Steve, predictably, tries to stay neutral. “I think you’ll be happy no matter what,” he says diplomatically, though there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looks at Tony. “That said, I wouldn’t mind seeing Stark try to handle a teenage girl someday.”

“God help us,” Natasha mutters with a smirk.

On the day of the baby shower, the compound is transformed. There are decorations everywhere—streamers in pastel pinks and blues, balloons shaped like baby bottles, and a banner reading Welcome, Baby Stark! stretched across the main wall. The table is laden with food, drinks, and an elaborate cake that looks too beautiful to eat. There’s even a pile of gifts in the corner, ranging from practical items like diapers and onesies to absurdly expensive gadgets Tony probably ordered himself.

Natasha and Bruce are the picture of calm, though you know they’ve been coordinating the big reveal for weeks. The two of them exchange knowing looks every time someone tries to guess the baby’s gender, clearly enjoying their role as gatekeepers of the secret.

The main event comes after everyone’s had their fill of food and games, including a hilariously chaotic round of diaper-changing races featuring Steve and Thor. Natasha steps forward, holding a small box wrapped in neutral-colored paper. She taps a spoon against her glass to get everyone’s attention.

“All right, everyone, it’s time,” she says, her tone firm but playful. “Y/N, Tony, come up here.”

You exchange a glance with Tony, who’s grinning like a kid at Christmas, and follow Natasha to the front of the room. Bruce joins her, carrying what looks like a smoke cannon with pastel-colored confetti inside.

“Are we sure Banner knows how to use that?” Tony whispers to you, earning a chuckle.

Natasha ignores him and gestures for Bruce to hand the cannon to Tony. “This is simple,” she says. “On the count of three, you twist it. The confetti will tell you the gender. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tony says, his grip tightening on the cannon. He looks at you, his grin softening into something tender. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready,” you reply, your heart pounding.

The room buzzes with anticipation as Natasha begins the countdown. “Three… two… one!”

Tony twists the cannon, and an explosion of pink confetti fills the air, raining down in a sparkling shower. The room erupts into cheers, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the cloud of pink with wide eyes.

“A girl,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly as the reality sinks in. “We’re having a girl.”

Tony turns to you, his grin splitting his face as he pulls you into his arms. “I told you,” he says, laughing as he spins you around. “I knew it!”

You’re laughing now too, tears streaming down your cheeks as the team gathers around, offering congratulations and playful jabs. Thor claps Tony on the back hard enough to make him stumble, while Clint pretends to look disappointed but quickly admits, “She’s probably gonna be cooler than a boy anyway.”

Natasha smirks, crossing her arms. “Told you it was worth the wait.”

As the excitement settles and the confetti begins to drift to the floor, Tony kneels in front of you, his hands resting gently on your growing belly. He looks up at you, his expression soft and filled with a kind of awe that takes your breath away.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “It’s official now. You’ve got one hell of a team waiting for you out here. But you know what? Your mom and I? We’re the lucky ones.”

Your heart swells, and you reach down to run your fingers through his hair. In that moment, surrounded by your friends, your family, and the overwhelming love in Tony’s eyes, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

The nursery preparation becomes a joint project, though you suspect Tony might be using it as an excuse to turn every design meeting into a spectacle. It starts with a simple conversation over breakfast about colors and furniture, but within hours, Tony’s drawing up blueprints for a room so high-tech it could double as a lab.

“Tony,” you say, leaning over his shoulder as he sketches a design for a mobile with holographic planets orbiting a glowing star. “This is a nursery, not the International Space Station.”

He turns to you with an exaggerated look of shock. “Why settle for ordinary when our baby can have the universe in her room? Imagine it—she’ll look up and be inspired every night.”

You can’t help but smile, even as you roll your eyes. “She’s not going to care about any of this for at least a few years. Let’s focus on a crib that doesn’t look like it’s from the future, okay?”

“Compromise,” he says with a smirk. “The crib will be traditional. The rest? Cutting-edge Stark tech.”

Choosing the color scheme turns into its own adventure. You veto pink almost immediately, wanting something more neutral and calming. “What about soft blues and grays?” you suggest one afternoon as you hold up a paint swatch.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Blues and grays? What is she, a baby or a Zen monk? Let’s go bold—deep purples, maybe some gold accents.”

“She’s a baby,” you remind him with a laugh. “She needs soothing, not a nightclub.”

Eventually, you settle on a compromise: a soft starry theme with muted blues, silvers, and whites, accented by golden stars and constellations painted along the walls. Tony insists on installing a custom ceiling projector that will display a moving galaxy, complete with twinkling stars and nebulae, for bedtime. You draw the line at installing an AI assistant in the room—at least for now.

The naming debate, however, proves to be even more challenging.

It starts casually one evening as you both lounge on the couch, flipping through baby name books. “Okay,” you say, running your finger down a list. “How about something classic? Elizabeth? Grace?”

Tony shakes his head. “Too stuffy. She’s going to be a Stark; she needs something unique. How about Nova?”

You pause, considering it. “Nova’s not bad,” you admit. “But it feels… incomplete.”

Tony grins. “Well, it’s lightyears ahead of Grace.”

You toss a pillow at him, laughing. “Fine. What else have you got, Mr. Genius?”

He leans back, pretending to think deeply. “Aurora. You know, like the northern lights.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Beautiful, but maybe a bit too Disney princess?”

The conversation goes on like this for days. Tony throws out names like Vega, Lyra, and Andromeda, while you try to steer him toward something more grounded. Neither of you seems willing to budge, though secretly you both enjoy the banter.

It’s during one of these discussions, late at night, that the perfect name finally emerges.

You’re lying in bed, the lights dimmed, and Tony’s hand rests protectively over your belly as he rambles about constellations. “Sirius is too much,” he says, more to himself than to you. “But it’d be cool if we could tie it back to something celestial. Something meaningful.”

You hum in agreement, half-asleep, when a thought strikes you. “Stella,” you say softly, testing the name on your tongue.

Tony freezes, then sits up slightly to look at you. “Stella,” he repeats, his voice thoughtful. “Latin for ‘star.’ Simple, beautiful, and meaningful. I love it.”

You smile, your heart warming at his reaction. “You really like it?”

“I don’t just like it,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s perfect. Stella Stark. Our little star.”

The next morning, you tell the rest of the team about the name, and everyone agrees it’s fitting. Thor, especially, is thrilled. “A name worthy of the cosmos!” he declares, raising his coffee mug like a goblet.

Even Clint, who usually teases Tony at every opportunity, nods in approval. “Stella’s solid,” he says. “Classy, but not pretentious. Good pick.”

As the nursery nears completion and Stella’s name starts appearing on everything—from personalized blankets to a tiny plaque above the crib—you find yourself growing more excited with each passing day. The walls are painted, the furniture is assembled, and Tony’s holographic mobile is, admittedly, a work of art.

One evening, as you both stand in the finished nursery, Tony wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “You know,” he murmurs, looking around at the room, “we might’ve gone a little overboard.”

“A little,” you agree, though you can’t help but smile.

“But she’s worth it,” he adds, his voice soft as he rests his forehead against yours.

“She is,” you whisper, your heart full.

As the galaxy projector casts a soft glow of stars across the ceiling, you know that Stella is already surrounded by more love and wonder than you ever could’ve imagined.

The shift in behavior starts subtly. At first, you think you’re imagining it—the way Natasha ends phone calls the moment you enter the room or how Clint suddenly has a reason to leave anytime you try to ask what he and Tony were whispering about. Even Steve, who’s usually a beacon of honesty, seems unusually tight-lipped when you catch him and Bruce exchanging cryptic looks during a mission debrief.

Tony, of course, is no better. If anything, he’s the most suspicious of them all. Normally, he shares every detail of his day with you, but lately, he’s been “working late” more often than usual. When you ask what he’s working on, his answers are evasive, laced with a nonchalance that you don’t buy for a second.

“Just tweaking some tech,” he says one evening, typing furiously on a holographic keyboard that he closes the moment you approach. “You know, the usual.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “The usual doesn’t usually involve secretive meetings with the entire team or you hiding your screens from me.”

Tony looks up, flashing you one of his patented grins. “Paranoid much, sweetheart? Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.”

You roll your eyes, but you let it slide—for now.

The day of the proposal dawns like any other. You wake up to the sound of Tony humming softly beside you, his hand resting protectively over your belly, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of him. At seven months pregnant, your body feels heavier and more tired than usual, but Tony’s been nothing if not attentive—sometimes to the point of hovering. Still, there’s something in his gaze this morning, a kind of nervous energy that makes you suspicious.

“What’s with the grin?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“No grin,” he says, though the corners of his mouth betray him. “Just appreciating how stunning you look, as always.”

“Mmhmm,” you murmur, giving him a skeptical look. “If you’re planning something, Stark, I’ll figure it out.”

He smirks, leaning down to kiss your belly. “No secrets here, baby girl. Daddy’s just got work to do today.”

That afternoon, Natasha convinces you to go out for some “girl time,” which in itself feels suspicious. Nat rarely suggests spa days or shopping trips, but she waves off your questions with a smirk.

“Can’t a friend treat her very pregnant bestie to some pampering?” she says, steering you toward the door. “Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do while Tony tinkers in the lab.”

By the time you return to the compound, you’re relaxed but even more curious. The hallways are quiet—too quiet—and the usual buzz of activity is strangely absent. As Natasha leads you toward the common area, your suspicions grow.

“What’s going on?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. “Why do I feel like I’m walking into an ambush?”

Natasha just smirks, tugging you forward. “You’ll see.”

The doors to the common area slide open, and your breath catches. The room is transformed. Soft, glowing lights hang from the ceiling like stars, casting a warm, ethereal glow. A pathway lined with rose petals leads to the center of the room, where Tony stands in a perfectly tailored suit, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. Behind him, the rest of the Avengers stand in a loose semicircle, all wearing knowing smiles.

“Tony,” you whisper, your heart pounding as Natasha gives you a gentle nudge forward.

He takes a step toward you, his usual confidence tempered by the kind of vulnerability he rarely shows. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the world fades away.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “You’ve already given me so much. You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and in just a couple of months, you’re going to give me the greatest gift of all—our daughter.”

You feel tears welling up as he continues, his hand reaching out to take yours. “But before she gets here, I want to give you something, too. I want to give you my heart, my name, my everything. I want us to be a family, officially, because… well, because I love you more than words can ever say.”

He drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a dazzling engagement ring. The diamond sparkles like a star, and you can’t help but gasp.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice soft but firm, “will you marry me?”

For a moment, you’re too overwhelmed to speak. Tears spill down your cheeks as you nod, a laugh bubbling up through your emotions. “Yes,” you finally manage, your voice breaking. “Yes, Tony, of course!”

Tony’s grin is so wide it looks like it might split his face. He slides the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling slightly, and then he’s standing, pulling you into his arms. He holds you close, burying his face in your hair as you cling to him.

“You’re crying,” you murmur against his shoulder, your voice teasing despite your own tears.

“I am not,” he protests, though his voice wavers. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glistening. “Okay, maybe a little. But don’t tell anyone, all right? I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You laugh, wiping at your own tears as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Behind you, the Avengers erupt into cheers and applause, Clint letting out a loud wolf whistle while Thor raises his hammer in triumph.

“About time!” Clint calls out, grinning from ear to ear.

Natasha smirks, her arms crossed. “Told you she’d say yes.”

Later that evening, as you sit together in the nursery, the engagement ring glittering on your finger and Tony’s hand resting over your belly, you can’t help but marvel at how far you’ve come. He looks at you like you’re his entire world, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like nothing could ever go wrong.

“You’re happy,” you say softly, studying his face.

Tony looks at you, his expression filled with a love so deep it takes your breath away. “I’m more than happy,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “You and Stella… you’re everything I never knew I needed.”

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder as the baby kicks gently against his hand. “We love you too,” you whisper, and in that moment, the universe feels just right.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day starts out completely normal—or at least as normal as life gets when you’re living with Tony Stark and the Avengers. You’re lounging on the couch, rubbing your enormous belly, when you feel the first contraction. It’s mild, more like a cramp than anything else, but enough to make you pause mid-sentence while you’re trying to convince Tony that the name Stella is not negotiable for her middle name.

“Everything okay?” Tony asks, looking up from where he’s fiddling with one of his many gadgets.

You nod, brushing it off. “Yeah, just… I think she’s practicing her escape plan.”

Tony chuckles. “Smart kid. Of course, she’s my daughter. She’s already planning ahead.”

You roll your eyes but let the moment pass. That is until another contraction hits—not unbearable, but definitely noticeable. You wince, shifting in your seat.

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Okay, that wasn’t just a practice run. What’s going on?”

You try to play it cool. “I think it might be starting, but it’s fine. First labors take a while. No need to—”

But before you can finish, Tony is up and moving like the house is on fire. “FRIDAY! Get the car! Clear a path! Call Banner! Wait, no, call Bruce AND the hospital! Get Nat to pack a bag—do we have a bag? Where’s the bag?”

You laugh despite yourself, waving a hand to calm him down. “Tony, relax. I’m not even sure it’s—”

Tony is already pacing, pulling his phone out to make calls. “Relax? RELAX? You’re about to bring an entire human into the world, and you want me to relax? You know who doesn’t relax? Tony Stark. I plan. I execute.” He points to your belly. “That tiny genius in there is counting on me!”

Another contraction interrupts your attempt to reassure him, this one stronger than before. You grip the edge of the couch, exhaling sharply. Tony’s eyes go wide, and his face pales.

“That’s it,” he declares. “We’re going now. FRIDAY, where’s the car?”

By the time you get to the hospital, Tony’s nerves are a full-blown circus. He’s barking orders at the nurses, double-checking every piece of equipment they wheel past, and generally acting like a man whose entire world is on the brink of chaos.

“Are those sterilized?” he asks one poor nurse, gesturing to a tray of instruments. “Because I know a guy who can check for microscopic contaminants.”

“Tony,” you groan from the wheelchair they’ve put you in. “Let the professionals do their job.”

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “Right. Sorry. Carry on.”

Once you’re settled in the delivery room, the contractions intensify, and so does Tony’s panic. He’s pacing again, alternating between squeezing your hand and apologizing for squeezing your hand too hard.

“Why is this taking so long?” he mutters, glancing at the clock. “Is there a way to, I don’t know, speed this up? I mean, we’ve got science, right? Lasers? Something?”

Your labor nurse gives him a patient smile. “Babies come on their own time, Mr. Stark.”

Tony points at her, dead serious. “I’ll have you know I’ve streamlined multi-billion-dollar manufacturing processes. I could totally streamline—”

“Tony!” you snap, gripping his hand through another contraction. “If you don’t stop talking about lasers and streamlining, I’m going to throw you out of this room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says quickly, wincing as your grip tightens. “You’re doing great, by the way. Absolutely phenomenal. Ten out of ten.”

As the hours pass, Tony alternates between being overly helpful and hilariously unhelpful. At one point, he tries to "coach" you through the contractions, repeating advice he clearly Googled five minutes earlier.

“Breathe, babe,” he says, crouching next to you. “In through the nose, out through the—OW!” He yelps as you squeeze his hand, your patience wearing thin.

“I am breathing!” you growl. “You breathe!”

“Right, got it,” he says, shaking out his hand. “I’ll breathe quieter.”

By the time you’re ready to push, Tony looks like he’s aged ten years. His hair is a mess, his suit jacket is nowhere to be seen, and he’s nervously chewing on his bottom lip as if he’s the one doing all the hard work.

“Okay,” the doctor says. “It’s time to meet your baby. Dad, are you ready?”

Tony blinks, his face going pale again. “Wait, me? What am I supposed to do?”

“Just stay next to me and try not to pass out,” you deadpan, glaring at him through gritted teeth.

The actual delivery feels like a blur, but Tony’s reactions are crystal clear. As soon as Stella’s first cry fills the room, he freezes, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and disbelief. The doctor places her on your chest, and you look down at the tiny, wriggling bundle of perfection. Tears stream down your face as you cradle her, overwhelmed with love.

Tony leans over, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s afraid to touch her. “She’s… she’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

You glance up at him, smiling through your tears. “She is.”

He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as if trying to fight back tears of his own. “I’m not crying,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… dusty in here.”

“Sure, Tony,” you say, laughing softly. “Whatever you say.”

He finally reaches out, gently running a finger along Stella’s tiny hand. When she grips his finger, his face lights up like you’ve never seen before.

“Hi, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “It’s me. Your dad. I’m the guy who’s going to spoil you rotten and probably embarrass you in front of all your friends someday.”

You laugh again, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. As Tony leans down to kiss your forehead, then Stella’s, you know this moment—this messy, chaotic, perfect moment—is one you’ll never forget.

The ride home is surprisingly smooth, considering Tony’s usual flair for drama. He insists on driving, despite your gentle protests, and the way he handles the car like it’s made of glass is almost endearing. Stella, snug in her carrier, sleeps through the whole thing, her tiny face scrunched in a way that makes your heart ache with love.

“Are you sure she’s breathing?” Tony asks for the third time, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, Tony,” you reply, trying not to laugh. “Babies sleep. It’s kind of their thing.”

He huffs, clearly unsatisfied. “Well, it’s nerve-wracking. I’m used to things that come with a manual, not ones that just… exist and rely on me not to screw up.”

“She’ll be fine,” you reassure him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The Avengers are waiting when you arrive at the compound, their faces pressed against the windows like eager kids waiting for Santa. Even Clint, who normally pretends to be too cool for this sort of thing, looks uncharacteristically excited.

The moment you step inside, carrying Stella in her carrier, they descend like a swarm.

“Oh my God, she’s so tiny!” Natasha coos, her usual stoicism replaced with pure, unfiltered awe. “Look at her little hands.”

Steve grins, leaning down to get a better look. “She’s beautiful,” he says warmly, his voice tinged with a kind of reverence.

“She’s definitely got your nose, Y/N,” Bruce chimes in, smiling shyly. “Lucky kid.”

Even Clint, who’d joked for months about how he wasn’t going to fawn over “just another Stark,” can’t help but soften. “She’s pretty cute,” he admits, though his grin betrays his attempt at nonchalance.

“Cute?” Tony cuts in, feigning offense. “Try perfect. Absolute masterpiece. My finest work.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “She’s not one of your inventions, Tony.”

“No,” he agrees, his gaze softening as he looks at Stella. “She’s better.”

Thor, meanwhile, looms in the background, looking uncharacteristically nervous. You catch him shifting his weight from foot to foot, his brows furrowed as he watches the others coo and fuss over Stella.

“Thor,” you call gently, motioning him over. “Do you want to meet her?”

He hesitates, his usual bravado replaced with uncertainty. “I am unsure,” he admits, his voice low. “She is so small. What if I… break her?”

Tony snorts. “Relax, Point Break. She’s sturdier than she looks.”

Thor’s eyes widen. “Are you certain? For I have been told I am… exuberant in my movements.”

You can’t help but smile. “You’ll be fine. Just be gentle.”

Carefully, you unbuckle Stella from her carrier and place her in Thor’s massive hands. He cradles her like she’s made of glass, his expression a mix of awe and terror.

“She is… radiant,” he says after a moment, his voice soft. “A tiny warrior in the making.”

Stella squirms, letting out a small gurgle, and Thor immediately panics. “What is this sound? Is she displeased? Have I offended her?”

You laugh, taking her back before his nerves get the better of him. “She’s just waking up. You did great, Thor.”

He exhales in relief, looking visibly proud despite his earlier fear. “Then I shall strive to earn her favor, as a worthy uncle should.”

As the evening wears on, the Avengers take turns holding Stella, each of them surprisingly adept in their own way. Natasha rocks her gently, whispering something soft and sweet in Russian. Steve looks completely at ease, cradling her with a quiet confidence that makes you wonder if he’s done this before. Bruce hums softly, his gentle demeanor soothing Stella when she stirs.

Clint, ever the showman, gets her to grab his finger and immediately declares, “She likes me best. Sorry, everyone else.”

Even Thor eventually works up the courage to hold her again, this time with less fear and more awe.

Tony, meanwhile, hovers nearby, alternating between beaming with pride and trying to direct everyone on the proper way to hold her.

“Support her head,” he says for the fifth time, gesturing like he’s leading a workshop. “And don’t jostle her too much. She’s had a big day.”

“Tony,” you say, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “She’s fine. Look at her—she’s surrounded by love.”

He glances around the room, taking in the sight of his teammates—his family—cooing and fussing over Stella. His shoulders relax, and a small, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“Yeah,” he says softly, slipping an arm around your waist. “She’s going to be okay.”

You lean into him, watching as Stella lets out a tiny yawn, completely unfazed by the chaos around her. In this moment, surrounded by your unconventional but loving family, you know she’s going to grow up in the best possible way.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day is perfect—blue skies, warm sunlight, and the hum of excitement in the air as friends and family gather in the garden of the Stark estate for the wedding. You stand in the bridal suite, adjusting the lace sleeves of your gown, the soft fabric hugging your body comfortably enough to accommodate the postpartum changes you’re still embracing. In your arms, Stella squirms, her tiny hands tugging at the delicate veil trailing over your shoulder.

“Mommy’s trying to look fancy,” you murmur, kissing her chubby cheek. “Try not to drool too much on the dress, okay?”

Natasha appears in the doorway, dressed elegantly in a flowing gown but still managing to radiate her usual aura of cool confidence. “Ready to knock Tony off his feet?” she asks with a smirk.

You laugh nervously. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Natasha leans in to take a peek at Stella, who’s now gnawing on her fingers. “And what about you, little one? Ready to steal the show?”

“She’s been ready since birth,” you say, smiling fondly. “I just hope she doesn’t start screaming halfway down the aisle.”

The music starts—soft, romantic, and unmistakably orchestrated to perfection because, of course, Tony insisted on hiring the best string quartet money could buy. You step out into the aisle, holding Stella securely against your chest.

All eyes are on you, but your gaze locks instantly with Tony’s. He’s standing at the altar in a sharp tuxedo, his hair immaculately styled, but it’s his expression that floors you. His eyes are shining, his lips trembling slightly as he takes you in—his fiancée, his daughter in your arms, walking toward him like a vision straight out of his dreams.

When you’re halfway down the aisle, you catch him discreetly wiping at his eyes, though his attempt to play it cool is utterly transparent. You can’t help but smile.

“Crying already?” you tease softly as you reach the altar.

Tony’s voice cracks as he replies, “It’s allergies. Don’t get used to it.”

The officiant clears his throat, gesturing for everyone to sit. You pass Stella to Natasha, who holds her with practiced ease, but not before Tony sneaks a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “Don’t cause too much trouble for Aunt Nat, okay?” he whispers.

The ceremony is beautiful, filled with laughter, a few tears, and vows that manage to be both heartfelt and hilariously Tony.

“I promise to always make you laugh,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “To build you anything you need—even if it’s just a better coffee maker. And I promise that no matter how big our family gets or how crazy life becomes, you’ll always be the center of my world.”

You smile, your heart full as you reply, “And I promise to keep you grounded—even when you’re flying. To stand by you, even when you’re being insufferable. And to love you, completely, for the genius, ridiculous, wonderful man that you are.”

The guests cheer when you kiss, and you can hear Clint shouting something about “finally making an honest man out of Stark,” but you’re too caught up in the moment to care. Tony’s hands are on your waist, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispers, “You’re stuck with me now, Mrs. Stark.”

The reception is lively, filled with laughter and champagne toasts, but the true star of the evening is Stella. At six months old, she’s the smallest guest but easily the most adored. She’s passed from one Avenger to the next, each of them taking turns cooing and playing with her. Steve lets her grab at his finger, grinning like a proud uncle. Bruce gently bounces her on his knee, her giggles drawing smiles from everyone around. Even Thor takes a turn, holding her aloft and declaring her “the mightiest of babes” before you quickly retrieve her, worried he might throw her like Mjolnir.

Despite the joy of the day, you and Tony find yourselves constantly glancing toward wherever Stella is. When you see her reaching for a cupcake, her tiny hand almost toppling the entire dessert tower, you excuse yourself mid-conversation to intercept.

“She’s got your appetite,” you say, placing Stella in her high chair and handing her a safer option—a teething biscuit.

“And your stubbornness,” Tony adds, crouching next to you to adjust her little headband. He kisses her forehead before looking up at you, his expression soft. “We did pretty good, didn’t we?”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him. “We did amazing.”

As the night winds down, you dance with Tony under the fairy lights, Stella dozing peacefully in Natasha’s arms nearby.

“Today was perfect,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

Tony pulls you closer, his hand warm on your back. “Because of you,” he murmurs. “You and Stella—you’re my whole world.”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love. “And you’re ours.”

The music swells, and for a moment, it’s just the three of you in your own little world, the rest of the party fading into the background.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Four years later

Four years later, the Stark household is as lively as ever. Stella, now a spirited and endlessly curious four-year-old, is the undeniable star of the compound. She’s sharp like her dad, determined like her mom, and, to everyone’s ongoing astonishment, utterly enamored with Thor.

“Where is Uncle Thor?” Stella demands one morning, her tiny hands on her hips in a perfect mimicry of your stance when you're irritated. “He promised we’d go find worms for the garden!”

You chuckle as you rest a hand on your growing belly. “Honey, Uncle Thor’s busy with work. He can’t always come running every time you call.”

“Why not?” she counters, pouting. “He’s the Mighty Thor. He’s not too busy for me.”

You shake your head, smiling. “You’ve got your daddy’s charm, you know that?”

Tony walks in just in time to hear the exchange, a cup of coffee in one hand and a slightly sour expression on his face. “I don’t know what he’s done to brainwash her, but I don’t like it,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your cheek before ruffling Stella’s hair.

“Uncle Thor is the best!” Stella declares, throwing her arms up dramatically. “He’s teaching me how to lift Mjolnir!”

“Is he now?” Tony says, narrowing his eyes. “I thought I told him no godly powers until after kindergarten.”

Later that afternoon, Thor arrives as promised, and Stella runs to greet him, her excitement so infectious even Tony can’t entirely suppress a grin. Thor sweeps her up, spinning her around like she weighs nothing.

“Ah, my favorite little warrior!” Thor booms. “Are you ready to brave the wilderness?”

“Yes!” Stella squeals, clutching onto him tightly. “Let’s go, Uncle Thor!”

“Wilderness?” Tony interjects, crossing his arms. “You mean my backyard?”

Thor just grins. “Every great adventure starts somewhere, Stark.”

As they head outside, you and Tony watch from the window, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders.

“I can’t believe she picked him as her favorite,” Tony says with mock despair. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“A magic hammer?” you suggest, smirking.

Tony gasps in mock offense. “Unbelievable. After all I’ve done for her.”

“Don’t worry,” you tease, patting your belly. “Maybe this little guy will be Team Dad.”

Tony’s face softens immediately, his free hand coming to rest gently on your growing bump. “He better be,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss it. “Otherwise, I’ll have to build another suit—Baby Iron Man Edition.”

Stella eventually drags Thor back inside, both of them covered in dirt but grinning like co-conspirators. Thor greets your belly with a reverent nod, placing a hand on it like he’s bestowing a blessing. “He stirs with strength already,” he declares. “A future warrior.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “He’s not even born yet, Point Break. Let’s not start handing out titles.”

Stella crawls onto the couch next to you, her small hands carefully pressing against your belly. “Mommy, when will the baby come out?”

“In a few months, sweetie,” you say, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “He needs to grow a little more before he’s ready.”

“Will he be bigger than me?”

“Not at first,” Tony interjects, scooping her up onto his lap. “But don’t worry, Stella. You’ll always be the boss. It’s your job to teach him everything you know.”

Stella beams at that, puffing out her chest. “I’m going to be the best big sister ever.”

Tony chuckles, kissing her on the forehead. “I have no doubt.”

The rest of the day is filled with the usual chaos—Stella insisting she help with dinner (which mostly means spilling flour everywhere), Thor recounting dramatic tales of Asgardian battles to an enraptured audience, and Tony tinkering in his lab while occasionally glancing over to check on you.

Later that night, as you’re tucking Stella into bed, she clings to your arm, her wide eyes full of curiosity.

“Mommy?” she asks softly. “Do you think the baby will like Uncle Thor too?”

You laugh, stroking her hair. “Probably. But I think he’s going to like you the most.”

Her face lights up, and she snuggles deeper into her blankets. “Good. I’ll share Uncle Thor with him, but only a little.”

After kissing her goodnight, you return to the living room, where Tony is waiting on the couch, a glass of sparkling water in hand for you.

“Is she down?” he asks, pulling you gently into his side as you sink onto the cushions.

“Out like a light,” you reply, taking the glass. “She was asking if the baby will like Thor.”

Tony groans, tipping his head back dramatically. “That man is a menace.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “You know you love how happy he makes her.”

Tony’s arm tightens around you, his voice softening. “Yeah, I do. But you know what makes me happiest?”

“What?”

“This,” he says, resting his hand on your bump again. “All of us. Together.”

You smile, your heart full as you lean into him. “Me too.”

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