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mochie85 · 1 year ago

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Blue Christmas

One-Shots Masterlist | Complete Masterlist | Secret Santa Masterlist

Summary: You ask Loki to give you something special for Christmas. A/N: This is a Secret Santa gift for @divine-knight-hand. I wanted to give you everything you requested, my love, but I already wrote something similar a while ago. For the sake of not sounding repetitive, I altered your request just a little bit. I hope you still like it. However, please check out the other story because it checks off all your points! And is Christmas-themed! Mayari: If You Let Me. Also, sorry for the cringy title. I couldn't think of anything else. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: Over 2.7k Warnings: Explicit. Smut. P in V. Jotunn Loki (yes, cuz he's a whole warning!)

You crossed your legs as the last rays of the sun were trickling down on your body. Your book was discarded on the ground as the condensation from your Pina Colada dripped down onto the side table.

Loki had surprised you and whisked you away to the Fiji Islands for Christmas— no more crowded New York streets. No more dirty ice falling onto you from the splash of an oncoming taxicab. And certainly, no more missions and assignments till the New Year.

It had been an exhaustive nineteen-hour flight. Especially since he didn’t tell you anything he was planning. When you came home to your room earlier that day, you were greeted by Loki with two suitcases on either side of him.

“Merry Yuletide, Darling,” he said as he rolled your luggage over to you and kissed you on your lips in greeting.

“Loki- what?”

“No time to explain, we need to leave now in order to catch our flight,” he said ushering you out the door by patting you on the bum. You jumped up with giddiness, planting a lipstick-stained kiss on his cheek. He was always surprising you with little trinkets and excursions.

“Thank you, sir,” you said in a deep voice.

“Ooh, you dangerous nymph. Go on. I need my wits about me till we get on the plane. I can’t have you distracting me.”

“Then, after?” you asked luring him to a sinful promise.

“After,” he promised in the same breathy tone.

That was two days ago. Loki had kept his promise, and then some- inducting you both into the mile-high club several times over.

Now, here you were in a private villa surrounded by an infinity pool that stretched towards the Pacific, watching your godly boyfriend come out of the water. He ran his hands through his hair, combing the droplets from his tresses. Beads fell down the defined lines of his muscles causing you to heat up in the already balmy weather.

The sight of Loki, wet and in nothing but short swim trunks, was enough to make you convulse. You were sure that if Michelangelo had a model for David, it would’ve been Loki. And knowing Loki, you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was him.

He came up to you, lounging on your chair, and shook his wet hair in front of you to tease you. “St-stop!” you laughed as you playfully pushed him before you got completely wet.

“Awe, come on, Darling. I thought you liked me wet?” he charmed as he sat next to you and leaned in for a kiss.

“I have to admit, it is kind of refreshing.” You said as your hands guided themselves around his slick body. “It’s so hot here. I might need something to cool me down,” you tempted.

There was a flash of understanding in his face. Nights of hedonistic pleasure and anticipation of his moods taught you how to read him. If you weren’t so attuned to him- so zealously infatuated with him and his praise over you, you would have missed it. But you didn’t.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing. I just-” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words. “There was a reason why I chose Fiji.”

“You mean, the beautiful waters and sandy beaches weren’t enough of a reason?” you joked.

“It’s in the southern hemisphere. Which means that it’s summer here whilst still cold and winter back home.”

“Why would the season be an issue?”

“Contingency.”

“Contingency, for what?” you asked confused.

“It was about what you wanted for Christmas,” he answered slowly. Confusion still clouding your memory. Little bits and pieces of a long-forgotten conversation nipped at your mind as you tried to piece together what you had asked him to give you.

As if to remind you, Loki raised his hand and cupped your face. As he did so, his fingers turned a beautiful shade of blue. It was fair, yet sharp. It reminded you of the color of blue thistles on a cold afternoon.

As he touched your cheek, a shiver ran down your skin making you shudder for the first time since you arrived. Realization struck you as you remembered the conversation you two had a month ago.

“I think I know what I want for Christmas,” you lured him in. “And what is that, my Darling?” Loki said absentmindedly while looking through his mission briefing. “You." “You already have me,” he scoffed, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I meant…all of you…the other you…” you trailed silently. Loki looked at you bewildered. There were many nights he had dreamt of taking you in his other form, wondering how you would react to him. He’s postponed showing you this long because he was afraid of his feral nature. He would be at the mercy of his urges and base needs. Loki wasn’t quite sure how to ease you into that new situation. Would he be too much for you? Knowing your adventurous spirit, you wouldn’t mind having his beastly side take you. “Why, you little nymph. Now, why would you want to see that side of me, hmm?”

Excitement bubbled up inside you. “Loki, I-” you started, but he quickly put a finger to your lips to quiet you.

“I want this, Darling. And I want it with you. So, if at any point in time, you want to stop, you know our safe word.” You nodded your head enthusiastically and Loki chuckled. “But I should let you know, that…there was a reason why I’ve waited this long to show you. I become somewhat different when I change. Jotunns, in their very nature, are severe. Harsher. They have to be, to live in the climate they do, and survive.”

You sat there, fervently hanging onto every word Loki was saying. “We relied upon each other for strength, for warmth, basic needs…” Loki trailed off, tracing your lower lip with his cold finger. “You can imagine the creativity we had in finding ways to keep our blood warm and stave off the frigid climate.” You nodded solemnly at his words as if they were gospel.

“If we do this, I need you to be in control. Do you understand me, Darling?” he asked, inching closer to you. You felt a shiver run down your body. You focused on his eyes as his lips weaved a spell for you to follow. “I won’t know how much is too much. How rough is too rough.”

Loki grabbed your hips and sat you on his lap. The sudden move made you yelp into his arms. “Sorry, my dear. You see, I’m already too excited. My body is reacting to you.” He ran his nose up and down your neck. His cold hands encircled your back, caging you on top of him. “I’ve wanted to take you like this for so long.” His hands entwined themselves with your hair and pulled as his lips met yours in a crushing kiss.

You held on tightly, with your legs wrapped around his waist, as Loki stood up and walked both of you to the edge of your bed. When he broke the kiss, you heard him moan before he continued to suck a bruise onto your neck.

You felt his body change. The hairs atop your skin began to stand as the temperature began to drop. The once-sweltering heat that prickled your skin was replaced by the cool tingles of his touch. It surrounded you and enveloped you in a cold caress. You finally understood the need for a warmer climate. With a slight force, he released you from him, falling onto the soft mattress below.

That was when you had your first glimpse of his true self. The beautiful shade of blue you had seen earlier spread throughout his body. His form was somehow sharper, more jagged. Yet still soft and giving. He had markings defined by fine lines and grooves. They traced over his muscles and sinew, highlighting the best parts of himself. You followed them with your eyes as it led your stare down to his protruding cock. Your jaw went slack as you noticed how hard he was for you already.

Loki watched you appraise him. Your wanton eyes grew darker, and your breathing got quicker. His senses picked up every reaction that your body was going through. He was prepared to confront your fear or disgust, but he couldn’t see that in your face. Instead, he saw hunger and need. He could smell your desire growing for him and it made him feral. He wrapped his hands around his shaft, stroking himself to the sight of you, ready and waiting on his bed.

Loki felt ravenous as he knelt over you on top of the sheets. He spread your legs apart, seating himself in between the warmth of your thighs. His heavy cock resting atop your wet cunt. His hands eagerly tore up your swimsuit as they explored and venerated your body. His lip’s sole mission was to mark bruises where his hands had trailed, following the chill of his touch.

“…Loki…”

“Shh, Darling. I won’t hurt you. Unless you want me to,” he winked as he nipped the underside of your breast. Too many emotions. Too many thoughts. They were swirling at the forefront of his mind wanting to be said. His desire for you was overwhelming him.

In this form, he felt more primal. His emotions were stronger and almost frightening, but all he felt was fire. Everywhere. An all-consuming heat that wouldn’t dissipate until he had claimed you. His need for you was never as aggressive as it was right now. If he wasn’t careful, he knew he could easily hurt you. He needed you to be in control.

“Don’t stop,” you begged him.

“And what would you have me do my Darling?” he breathed onto your skin. “Tell me, and I will comply.” Loki was giving you the green light. The authority to take over because he wasn’t sure if he could be gentle enough not to harm you.

Oh, but the fire. The fire inside him wouldn’t relent. “Shall I force my cock down your throat till you gag for me to stop?” he suggested with a grin. You bit your lip and moaned as the image took hold in your mind. You moved your hips involuntarily, rubbing against his hefty shaft.

“Maybe I’ll edge you for the rest of our stay. Keep you here tied to our bed, my little slave, until I’ve properly bred you.” Loki seized your lips and held you down on the bed. His cold hands capture your wrist in an icy grip.

“S’cold,” you gritted.

“You can take it. You don’t mind a little bit of frostbite. Don’t you, my love?” He ground his hips as he bit into the soft flesh of your shoulder, leaving teeth marks in their wake. You felt his hard cock rub against your sensitive nub. It elicited the most erotic noise from your lips. Loki fought to keep his composure. With every moan you made, it got harder and harder for him to control his urges.

“I thought this was supposed to be my Christmas present,” you sighed, regaining some form of authority and clarity. You intertwined your fingers with his and signaled him to turn over with your hip. You pushed his shoulders down onto the bed as you straddled his waist.

Loki looked up at you in all your glory. Your beautiful face shining down with love and adoration was enough to heal the worry and anxiety he was feeling. “I want to admire my present,” you pouted as your eyes took all of him in.

His mischievous smile broke through as he raised his arms and placed his hands behind his head. “As you wish,” he hissed as the corded muscles in his biceps swelled.

You traced his beautiful blue markings down from his arms to his pecs. “You’re beautiful,” you whispered absent-mindedly, getting lost in the exploration of his body. Loki blushed at your words. He had never heard that word describe his Jotunn form before and it ignited a warm glow inside of him. Different than the fire, but still heated.

You leaned over him as your study led you to his neck and handsome face. You traced his dark lips as he opened them. His bright ruby eyes concentrated on you. “I love my present,” you whispered before you gently kissed him. “Thank you.”

Loki deepened the kiss, his tongue invading yours, as he wrapped his arms around you once again. His cold touch left a trail of goosebumps as he squeezed and grabbed your ass. He raised you slightly with one hand. And with the other, he guided himself into your entrance. The slick of your arousal coating the tip of his hard cock. “Are you ready for me?” he grunted. You nodded your head, keeping your lips on his, not wanting to break contact.

He thrust deep into your body. His heels held on against the mattress of the bed. He held your hips stable as he continued to drive upwards slowly- savoring how snug you were around him. Every pull of your tight pussy made him moan your name. “…yes…” he whined.

You sat up, holding onto his shoulders for support. “I need you, Loki,” you pleaded. Your nails dug into his dark skin as your hips took over his strokes. “…deeper…faster…”

“Take me then, Darling. Use me.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to do this for you. To be good for you. With each push of your hips, he unraveled each time. Crowning to a tight knot in his abdomen.

You waited patiently for him to open his eyes and see the love and pride you had for him. When he did, you were met with an intense sparkle of carmine. Desire and vulnerability shone through, swirling in his gaze. His brows furrowed with pleasure as he bit his lip. “…oh, fuck…” he cried.

You moved faster. Your swollen clit rubbed against his dark curls adding to the already heightened pleasure you were building. You took his hands from your hips and guided them up your body. You placed them over your bouncing tits and he squeezed- rubbing your hardened nipple with his thumb.

“That’s my good little whore,” he gasped. “You like it rough don’t you?” You squeezed tighter around him in answer and Loki couldn’t stop the wolfish grin on his face.

He swallowed thickly watching you enjoy his touch. “Loki” you screamed. The only indication that you had reached your climax and was about to topple over. You trembled over his body screaming his name over and over as you came down from your bliss.

“Don’t stop, Darling.” He pushed harder into you. “Ride me,” he commanded. Loki watched as you clenched around his hard cock- disappearing into your wet folds. The sight was enough to make him tremble.

God, he was so much bigger in this form. You had to push hard to meet the hilt of his shaft. You raised your hips and dipped back down eliciting the deepest groan fleeing his lips. “That’s a good girl,” he whispered. “Fuckin’ good girl.” His head tilted back and the desire to claim you came back. He had to take you faster. Harder.

He dug his heels back into the mattress and slammed his hips upwards. The gasping air leaving your lungs, the wicked moans filling his ears. All of it coerced him to cum inside you- finally releasing his pent-up yearning. Loki couldn’t stop the moans or praises leaving his lips. Your name peppered in with teasing curses and praises. “You always know how to make me feel good, don’t you, pet?” he prized as he took a deep breath to steady his exhaustion.

“Mmm, yes sir.” You kissed him ardently, taking his breath away from his already spent lungs. You trailed your kisses down to his neck and onto his panting chest. Each kiss made your lips tingle and chilly.

“We should probably get ready for dinner. What say you, my love?”

“Hmm? Maybe in a while…I’m not done playing with my Christmas gift yet.” You responded as your lips traveled further down towards his already hardening cock.

Loki smiled as he closed his eyes, savoring the feel of your warm tongue on his cool skin. “In a while,” he repeated. “Fuck…in a while.”

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish ++

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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 year ago

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Hangovers and Hickeys

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: no idea rn lmao probably like 700

A/N: some Spence content before the new year (on the western calendar). Hope you all get to enjoy the day!

“Good morning sunshine.”

You winced at the sheer volume of his voice. “If I could, id shove you off of the roof Derek Morgan.”

“Fun night?”

You snorted and finally lifted your head off of the desk. “You should be a profiler.”

That caused Derek to laugh, which made you wince and close your eyes. The sunglasses perched on your nose were supposed to be helping. They weren’t.

“That’s a nice hickey you got there.”

You grunted in response and tried to adjust your sweater collar so it would cover the hickey you missed this morning when you didn’t look in the mirror. You had basically rolled out of bed, and into your car to make sure you got to work on time.

“Who gave it to you?” “Why don’t you use your super duper profiling skills to deduce it or whatever Sherlock shit you wanna do.”

Derek snorted and shook his head. ”or you could just….tell me.”

“Don’t worry about it Derek.” You grumbled.

When Derek realized he wasn’t going to get any answers out of you about it, he decided he was going to change tactics.

“Moving on from Boy Wonder?” It was no secret that you had a crush on a certain nerdy doctor. And so Derek tried to use this knowledge to his advantage.

You crossed your arms and just raised your eyebrows. “I’m not dignifying that with a response,”

“Pretty sure that was my answer.” He chuckled, sitting down in his chair and swiveling to look at you.

When you decided to just ignore Derek, and face your desk, he piped up again. “Where is he anyways?” “No idea.”

It was like he was waiting for his cue from you. Spencer pushed open the doors to the bull pen and strolled in. He had his purple scarf around his neck, over his new coat that Henry (JJ) had gotten him for Christmas. It was a beautiful grey pea coat that kept him warm during these freezing winter months. Spender was carrying a tray with two coffees on it and what seemed like a bag from McDonalds, which seemed to be for you, since he was headed in your direction.

The smell of the food caused you to groan with joy and smile at the man walking towards you.

“My knight in shining armor.” You muttered as he placed the whole tray in front of you. You placed a kiss on his cheek hasilty, causing him to blush a little.

“I got hashbrowns from both McDonald’s and Dunkin’, a little smorgasbord of grease for your pallet.” He whispered before taking one of the cups out of the tray.

“I’m going to marry you Doctor Spencer Reid.” You muttered, digging into the bag and pulling out one of the McDonald’s hash browns and biting into it. The groan you let out leaned a little on the pornographic side, which made Derek raise his eyebrows at the sound you let out, and then at tinge of pink on Spencer’s cheeks.

You continued eating, clueless about the silent interrogation happening to your left, enjoying every single bite and sip of your hangover cure.

“Derek I can hear you thinking and it’s making my head throb.”

Derek’s eyes snapped back to you, as your figure swiveled in the chair to face him, casually munching on some of the fries, in a completely different mood then from two minutes ago before Spencer had walked in the room.

“Sorry your highness. I’m just curious as to why Boy Genius here is bringing you hangover cures.”

“Well it’s his fault I’m this fucked up so he owes me.” You grumbled, swiveling around in your chair to face your desk. You pulled your lap top out of your canvas bag and started to set up for your work day.

“Wha-how is it his fault.”

That’s when Spencer turned bright red and tried to change the conversation, or at least get out of it. “I—well it’s not…I….hotch is…”

Spencer basically ran across the bullpen and up the stairs to Hotch’s office, avoiding the conversation he almost just had.

“I don’t think you wanna know.” You smirked and bit into the muffin from Dunks that Spencer had got you, not looking at the man behind you.

“I’m starting to think that too.” His eyes narrowed and he looked between where Spencer had run off to, and you.

Something was going on between the two of you, and Derek Morgan was going to figure it out.

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 month ago

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Tormented Spirit | 12

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

"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 | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i would just like to bring everyone's attention to the fact this fic is called tormented spirit. BTW some of yall might wanna read my weasely twins fluff cuz 😀 yeah you should read some fluff! leave comments/reblogs ok!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Since your sister's wedding, there were two things you no longer did: speak to your sister and go to your father. Everyday, instead of having the Lord Hand accompany you to your maester, you were accompanied by one of your wards.

At first, you were apprehensive with the change. After all, they were your knights, but neither of them were the father to your babe, and even fathers were rarely involved with prenatal care. Though, the patience they extended is not unusual, you were surprised that Erryk and Arryk took time asking the maester additional information concerning things that might need their attention in the future.

Today, you walk to the maester's ward, one hand on your belly the other on Erryk's bicep. As he opens the door, you freeze when you hear the voices in the room.

"Daughter." "Sister."

These words are spoken at the same time. You clench your teeth and turn to Erryk, whose jaw is set. You take a breath and decide to simply come back later.

Alicent stands the cot she sat upon and raises a hand, "please! I'm finished. You can come now."

Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?

Otto is angered by your persistence to ignore them. He scowls and glares at Erryk, "you remind your princess to practice some humility," he points a finger, "her actions are affecting the queen, who is now carrying an heir."

Your face drops as you turn to her.

She is already staring at you. You watch her pick her nails. You catch the redness of her cuticles.

Erryk is equally shocked. He stutters before nodding in regard, "congratulations, my queen."

Alicent shakes her head, forcing a smile, "t-thank you, ser."

Your father's eyes remain on you. He waits for you to offer the same sentiment, but his anger only intensifies at your continued silence. He scoffs, "will you not even congratulate your sister?"

You clutch your pronounced belly and turn to your maester, "may we please do the examination? I cannot bear to stand for long."

Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."

Your sister spares you a glassy glance before taking Otto's arm and leaving with him. You watch as they leave, feeling yourself grow hard of breathing.

The maester asks you to sit, but before you do, you snatch his arm, "is she truly with child?"

He looks at your teary face. He feels the tremble of your hand as he places his own atop of it. He carefully speaks "it is joyous news, is it not?"

You release a shaky breath as he helps you sit.

"Princess," the maester warily says, "breathe for me. We cannot proceed if you overcome by your affliction."

You place both your hands on your belly and take a couple deep breaths. You close your eyes and resist the sob that threatens to come. A couple of tears wet your cheeks, but you manage to remain intact. You wipe your face and mutter to yourself, "it's barely been a moon since they've wed."

Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."

You wish he had not tried to comfort you with such an idea.

You try not to think of Alicent as you do your daily examination, but she is all you think of. You think of how frightened she must be. You think of how your father surely told her about your daily visits to the maester. You wonder if he would force her to do the same, just to get you to talk to her. She wouldn't need daily examinations like you; she is perfectly healthy, stronger than you, as she said herself.

You are so deep in thought, you don't even realize the maester was finished with you, up until he says something that demands your full attention.

"What?" you knit your brows at him.

"We will be more certain of it as the moons wax and wane, but considering you are a twin yourself, and, again, because of the rather rapid growth of your belly, chances are my deduction is correct."

He helps you up and Erryk is quick to take your arm. You mutter through a shaky breath, "I'm carrying twins?"

Your maester nods, "highly likely."

You turn to Erryk, who offers you a reassuring smile, "I... congratulate you, my princess."

You stare at him for a moment and blink rapidly.

"You might give birth to a boy and girl who will have the same devotion you and your brother have," Erryk says in an attempt to take away some of the fear written across your face.

It does actually. You recall your visit to Oldtown and find yourself nodding, "I... I must write a letter at once."

Many moons come and go, but across the sea, the sun shines. Daemon's day has just started. His mood is nothing but sour, as it always is. He is loathe to start his day, but he does, and with a grunt, and leaves his tent to break his fast.

We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.

"My prince," Corlys greets him in their mother tongue. He hands Daemon a plate, "duck."

Daemon raises his brow at it, "with salt?"

"And pepper," Leanor says with a half-amused expression.

"My," Daemon sits down with them, "I am spoiled."

Corlys waits for Daemon to have a few bites before continuing conversation. He clears his throat, "before the day passes, allow me, my brother, and my son-" he looks between the said people, earning furrowed brows from Laenor, "-to greet you, both on behalf of House Velaryon, and as your comrade in battle for you—"

"Oh, yes!" Leanor interjects once he remembers, "congratulations, my prince!"

This earns him a look from his father, and his uncle. Laenor, who had been grinning, slowly raises his brows, "a-... apologies for interrupting, father."

Corlys sighs, "as I was-"

"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.

Corlys is confused by this, "I... no." He slowly tilts his head, "does your lady wife not write to you?"

Daemon is immediately on edge at the mention of you, "and what of her?"

Corlys narrows his eyes. He puts him to the test, "... you are aware your brother, the king, has remarried?"

Daemon whips his head his direction.

"And that also he expects an heir to be delivered come spring?"

"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"

Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."

His eyes widen. He looks between the Velaryons, then scoffs dryly. He begins to laugh, "that roach of a Hand has Viserys's bollocks shoved down his fucking throat."

Their faces contort at the foul language. Vaemond, in particular, is so offended that he cannot help but ask, "doesn't the princess write to you every day?"

Daemon clenches his plate

"And she never mentioned thi—"

"WHAT USE HAVE I TO READ THE WEEPY WRITING OF MY WIFE?!" the prince snaps, coming to a stand as he chucks his plate to the ground.

Corlys understands then Daemon's initial shock. However, he is still confused, "have you not read any letters from your wife?"

"Would you rather I be distracted, Corlys?" he snaps again, hands now clenched into fists.

Corlys is not intimidated by Daemon's anger, but he is also unincited by the idea a fight. He raises his hands in surrender, "most men gladly welcome distractions in the heat of war."

Daemon chuckles dryly, "I am not most men," then storms all the way back to his tent.

"Jiōragon hen ñuha ñuhoso!" he snaps in High Valyrian still, shoving the unwitting soldier aside. Get out of my way!

He returns to his tent. Another unwitting victim is there. "My prince," he bows, "a letter from Lady H-" Daemon snags the letter from him and shoves him away with exceeding anger and force.

He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.

You were his. You were meant to be his! Yet here you were, a pawn in someone else's game. His lust and infatuation has blinded him from this truth. You and your sister were mere tools of your cunt father to manipulate the throne.

He continues to trample your letters until they are brown with the dirt. He catches a lone letter that managed to evade his violence. He picks the unscathed object and only now does he realize its red waxen seal had an imprint of a dragon with a long neck that resembled Caraxes. Daemon scoffs, even his dragon you covet.

He breaks the seal. The letter was sent nearly a moon ago.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢; ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠�� 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢, 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔲�� 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢

A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.

He's read enough.

Back in the Keep, you too receive a letter. It is from Gwayne, whose weekly response has finally arrived. You do not mind that he does not write to you daily as you did; you are grateful to receive a response at all.

You were set on reading his response, but as is was, you were experiencing terrible nausea and found yourself unable to sit or lie still. For some reason, the only thing that could combat this was walking around. You instead had your ward read your brother's words aloud for you.

Arryk's eyes trail back and forth you and your letter. He comes to your side when you gag, "princess."

You place a hand on your mouth, walking away from him. He watches as you circle your bed, "perhaps, I-"

"Please," you sigh, "do not make me beg you to read it."

Arryk stiffens and shakes his head, "my apologies, your grace." He turns to the parchment, "my twin."

" Louder," you grunt as you momentarily lean on your bed.

"My twin," Arryk repeats slightly louder, "I pray that your health is good, that you have been eating and sleeping as goodly as you did in the days of your visit here."

You take a deep breath and walk towards nothing in particular.

"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."

"What?" you gasp softly, turning to Arryk.

He looks at you and hesitates, "I... will not honey my words: you disappoint me with your coldness towards our youngest."

You clench your teeth as you feel another gag coming up, "fucking, Gwayne."

"She has written to me more than once to lament your severed relations since she's wed."

Your scoff makes Arryk pause. You look at him as you walk over, "do not stop."

He looks at you as you walk past him. He clears his throat, "I did not speak of it until now, for I believed you to be wiser than your betrayal."

"Ha!" you scoff, eyes immediately watering, "incorrigible pest," you grunt and rub your belly. You pace faster, "unyielding. Unfeeling."

Arryk watches you pace and takes a few steps back and forth so to remain arms reach of you.

"Continue!"

He stiffens, "I—," he turns back to your brother's words, "you've written you believe it will be better for you both that you away, lest your childbearing interlope with hers. I disagree. Consider me a fool-"

"He is," you scratch your eyes.

"-a man who knows nothing of childbirth, which I am, but I know my sisters— I know you at the very least." Arryk watches you as he says the next words, "leaving Alicent will haunt you, your satisfaction short-lived."

You stop in your tracks. You feel your dress tighten around you.

"Lay down your pride and allow yourself to reach for your sister who understands your struggle unlike anyone in the Seven Realms now more than ever."

You feel sick, sicker.

"Upon doing so, see then if you still wish to come to home."

You heave as you continue walking around.

"I offer many prayers to the Mother for both you and our sister. We are truly grown from the same womb, for I too share in your hope that you give birth to a twin boy and girl."

You rub your belly, as the thought softens you a fraction.

"Mostly, I speak thanks and praise for I am to be doubly an uncle. I pray your births come timely and smoothly, and I pray the Lord Hand has extended nothing but gentleness to you both," he folds the paper, "Your Twin."

"See now," you turn to Arryk, "even my twin betrays me, abandons me," you feel tears run down your cheek.

He slowly walks towards you, "that is not what he's done, my princess."

"Then what?!" you shake your hands, "am I not allowed even my anger now?!"

He is taken off guard when you shove him back.

"Even you are against me!"

Arryk steps back, though you barely mustered enough force for him to need to. You quickly pace around again. He feels the flesh beneath his steel you touched begin to push. His lips part "do not accuse me so harshly."

You whip your head back, glaring at him with red eyes, "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO A LORD IN THE RIVERLANDS! OR HIGHGARDEN!" You throw your hand out, "ANYWHERE BUT HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS!"

His face falls when your rage makes you crumble. He gasp your name out as he catches you just before you fall.

"And for what?!" you wheeze as you are dragged to your bed. You rip at your collar as your chest tightens and tightens and tightens, "for me?"

"Princess," the knight's voice breaks with worry as he sits you down, "I beg you, ple-"

"Undress me," you mutter as you strugggle for air, "unlace my dress, I-"

He does not wait. He is quick to undo your bodice. He is so frantic, he nearly cuts your ties.

You moan as you feel a pressure leave you. You rip your dress off you, thinking of nothing else but catching your breath. Arryk helps you undress and you find it slightly easier to breath once you are left in nothing but your chemise.

Your ward struggles with himself; he does not wish to take advantage of this moment to ogle you, but he also cannot avert his gaze completely, lest you need his assistance. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze to his lap, muttering your name softly.

"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."

"Princess," he shakes his head, "I do not wish to-"

"I am used to his insistence of my dimness," you rub your chest, "of my capacity only for tears and succumbing to my own pain," your lips wobble, "but my sister—"

He stiffens and turns to you as lean into him. Your breath is too short and your head too heavy for you to keep yourself upright. Arryk calls our your name as he shifts, bringing his arm around to pull you upright.

"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."

He is immediately alarmed by how you clutch your side, "princess, are you-"

"Please," you rest your head on his armor, "hold me, even if you do not want to."

His hand twitches before, placing it your bare arm. He leans close, close enough to press his lips on your head, but he does not dare. He rubs your skin and whispers, "I want for nothing else."

You are too distracted by yourself that you do not hear him. Uncomfortable as the feel of his armor was, he lulls you into calmness.

When you feel well enough to realize how compromising it would be if someone were to witness you both, you pull away.

He says nothing, does nothing. He simply sit besides you, taking in your sad face.

You a tear drip from the tip of your nose. You rub it away before mumbling, "I had well-made plans for her... plans to shield her, to prosper her."

His eyes fall. He looks at the hand you had on your lap and dares to take it. It is cold and clammy, which is why he rubs it, eager to spread warmth.

The gesture makes goosebumps form on your arms. It makes your breath hitch, but not in a painful way. His gentleness encourages you to continue, "I once thought she looked up to me," you sniffle, "but when she said she was stronger than I," you lower your head.

He frowns.

"I knew then," you look back at him, "she sees only my weakness, along with the rest of the world."

He cannot help himself. He reaches for your cheek and wipes your tears.

You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"

The gesture makes his heart break. He squeezes your hands in return, "you need not prove such a thing to me," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "perhaps she does not want you to be strong... not for her."

You huff, "I am her older si-"

"But for your babe."

You are frozen by his words. You open your mouth but find nothing to say.

"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."

The thought brings a tear from your eye, "Arryk."

"My princess."

"Should I speak to my sister come the morrow?"

He squeezes your hand again before slowly nodding.

The next day, you do everything in your power to do just that. You found Alicent breaking her fast, but you did not want to inadvertently ruin her appetite with your sudden appearance, for you knew how fickle it was in these times. Later, you found her in her chambers napping, but you didn't wish to interrupt her then either.

The rest of the day, you started feeling unwell, and you could not find it in you to leave your own chambers. When you finally did, the sun had set and Alicent was nowhere to be found. As a last resort, you ventured to the king's chambers.

Erryk announces you once you reach Viserys's door. You look at your knight with apprehension but he only returns a reassuring nod. There is a rather... sickly smell that assaults your senses when the door opens. The king himself answers, brows quirked in surprise.

"My king," you barely manage a curtsy. Erryk nods, "your grace."

Viserys regards you both then asks, "what brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

"I wanted to know if my sister was here," you absentmindedly rub your belly, "I wish to speak to her."

The king catches your belly, "oh, yes." He places a hand on your shoulder, "you are also with child," he chuckles, "I keep forgetting to congratulate you face to face."

You are taken aback by the half-hug he pulls you into.

Viserys chuckles as he pulls away, "well done, my dear. You have made the realm, and more importantly my brother, all the more richer for this."

You are rigid as he beckons you inside. Viserys motions to Erryk dismissively, and he nods. You wards gives you a silent look, and you know he'll wait for you outside.

Once you enter, you are assaulted by a scent that has clearly been attempted to be masked by fragrances. It makes you gag slightly, but it is not so bad that you cannot comport yourself.

You had expected to be lead to your sister, but instead, the king leads you to a massive diorama of what you could tell to be King's Landing.

"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"

His regard to your sister makes you clench your jaw.

"-but she visits me oft at this time of hour. Might as well show you my miniature figurines whilst waiting," he grins as he motions to the said object.

You feel an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach as you walk over to him.

Viserys immediately beams over his creation, recounting the trouble he had carving out the tower, exclaiming how much he enjoyed shaping the bridge. You have never seen him in such a light and it makes you wonder if this was his true self. Did he regard your husband this way? What were they like as children?

As he handed you two separate failed attempts of carving his fallen dragon, Balerion, you listen to him muse how the beast's skull was preserved in the basement bellow, and how he would gladly bring you there if you wanted to see. You groan and slightly lurch when another painful sensation ripples within you.

Viserys notices this. He quickly takes the figurines from you, "oh, where are my manners," he pulls a chair to your side, "sit, sit."

You gratefully take a seat and take a couple deep breathes as the king continues to drone about his diorama.

"You know, I used to make toy soldiers for Daemon growing up. I was aghast when he came back to me with severed heads."

You chuckle at his words, but instantly regret it when it adds to your pain.

"I still made him new ones, but this time, I put less effort and detail," Viserys speaks before noticing your reaction, "are you alright?"

"Mmm," you shake your head, "I think my babes are moving."

His brows quirk, "ah. That's right. You are expecting twins, are you not?"

You release a sigh when the uncomfortable sensations finally wane. You take a breath and offering a smile, "so says my maester. I hope it to be a boy and girl, like me and Gwayne."

He smiles, "it is quite fortunate that you and your sister are to have children at the same time," he looks over his miniature castle, "don't you think?"

"I think..." you turn to your belly, another groan leaving your lips, "Alicent is not ready to have children."

Viserys turns to you.

You look up at him and purse your lips, "nor am I."

He chuckles softly, "none of us are," he places a hand on your shoulder, "but I assure you, you learn as you go."

You find no comfort in his words.

"You know who has been ready though," he raises a finger, "Daemon."

The thought nearly makes you flinch.

He chuckles, "do not look so averted. There is gentleness in him," he turns back to his diorama, "do you not perceive it?"

You begin to feel sick.

"I tell you, when Rhaenyra was born, his face shone."

Your brows tighten at the smile the king offers you.

"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."

His words make your heart tinge. You are blindsided by how genuine, how vulnerable your conversation is. You wonder if Alicent saw this amidst the cruelty of the world and decided to settle for it rather than the uncertainty from another man. As he falls deeper into another fond tale of his brother, you feel a dull pain spread across your hips.

"That reminds me," he claps his hands, "do you have any names picked out yet?"

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, "well... I've-" you huff, "gone through some books that held Valyrian names," you inhale, "and found a few names for boys, namely Vaerus,—"

"Ah, Vaerus," Viserys repeats, "meaning genuine."

"Eadan—"

He grins and points, "little fire."

"—and Alaeric," you huff.

"Hmm," he turns to the ceiling in thought, "no, I don't know that one."

You are restless because of your pain. You groan as you stand, "I- mmm- prefer the last one the most because it is similar to my mother's name, and I should like to name my boy and girl after her."

He chuckles, "you seem quite set on a boy and a girl."

"Mmm," you hum uncomfortably, "I- I hope for it." You rub your belly, "I hope they have fondness for each other like me and mine own twin."

He knits his brows at your demeanor, "a son and a daughter would suit you well," he smiles fondly, "what was the name of your late mother again?"

"A-" you groan, "Alyrie."

Viserys finally reaches for you, "are you quite certain you're alright?"

You hum as you take the king's bicep, squeezing him tightly, "mmm, I should like to lie down now."

"Yes, of course," he shakes his head, leading you to the door.

Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"

You are in too much pain to react to the king's screams. You can only screw your eyes shut.

Erryk bursts through the doors, face white, heart racing.

"CALL THE MAESTER AT ONCE! SHE'S BLEEDING!"

Your eyes widen at the word, "bleeding?" You momentarily manage to gather enough wits to see what Viserys was speaking of.

Erryk does not linger in his horror. He bolts out and sprints down the halls, screaming for a maester as if his life depended on it because yours did.

The sight of your blood is mortifying. You lift your skirt as pain continues to seizes and a horrified noise leaves you when you find the red that pools by your foot.

It all happens at once after. An ache so great forces you to the floor. You are burning hot yet shivers run down your spine. You do not know if Viserys is speaking as you slowly crumple your knees but you do know that you are screaming loud.

Then it passes. Serenity ebbs and flows. You manage to sit on your bum, but then it's back with a vengeance. You resist the squeal that morphs into to a shriek and then— you gasp, "no."

Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.

Your scream makes his stomach curdle.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.

Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."

The words arrest Viserys. He recalls holding Baelon as life left him. He cherishes now more than ever that at least his boy gazed upon him once. He shares in your misery, yet does not know if how he should approach you; he does not know if he should. He does anyway, no matter how haunting the sound of your wails are.

You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."

The thought is gutting.

You gently pull at one babe's eyelid, finding a violet eye looking back at you. Except it isn't looking at you at all and the thought makes you squall. You clutch your children tightly into your chest, rocking them back and forth, "forgive me, my loves. Forgive me for birthing you too soon."

Erryk finally arrives with the maesters. He is stunned in his spot whereas the maesters run to your side. He falls to his knees as you lift your children up. They do not touch them, but instead look at each other before muttering something that makes you pull your twins back into your chest.

Your ward is ashamed to face you. He has failed you. Erryk comes to a stand and dares to come near you. You do not notice him. You do not care for anything or anyone else in this moment.

Crimson grief trails behind you as you make your way to the maester's ward. Erryk meant to carry you, but you refused, knowing the walk there would be the last time you'd ever get to hold your children. He silently walks beside you, eyeing your every move.

You freeze when you see your sister by the door. Erryk looks between the two of you, ready to give you space.

Alicent is distraught. Her eyes are nearly as red as yours and you can how her hands tremble even as she picks at them, "sister, I-"

"I wanted to talk to you earlier today."

Her face falls and she immediately runs up to you. She reaches for you but stops herself.

You frown at it, thinking it was because you had been cruel to her, "forgive me, sister."

She rapidly shakes her head, "do not even mention it."

A tear fogs your vision, "very well," you sniffle as you lower your gaze, "would... would you like to see them?

She wordlessly agrees.

You step closer to her, "this is Alaeric... and Alyrie."

A hand comes to her mouth, "sister."

"They're perfect, are they not?"

She nods rapidly, "yes—" she shudders, "they are."

You sob with her as she brings her arms around you. Erryk cannot bare the sight. Hot tears run into his armor. Both him and Alicent stay with you as the maesters see to your health. They let you hold Alaeric and Alyrie until your examination commences, and then you confess that if they do not take them now, you will never let them be taken from you ever again.

You were exhausted as you lie in bed. Your body yearned for repose, but you could do nothing of the sort. You groggily stand and walk to your door.

Erryk starts. You caught him in the middle of scratching tears away from his eyes. You frown, "forgive me."

"No, princess," he shakes his head and turns to you, "how might I serve?"

You bite your lip, hating yourself for what you were about to request, "I know it is terrible..." you sigh deeply, "I know it is inappropriate, and wrong, and an abuse of my power over you," you tremble, "but please you sleep with me."

"My princess, I-"

"Please," you raise a hand, "if it is too horrible, per- perhaps-" you hiccup, "you can drag the set— the settee beside my bed-"

He silences you by taking your raised hand. You continue to sob as he shakes his head, "I would do anything you ask of me."

You sob and throw your arms around him. Erryk embraces you back, though he was afraid his hard uniform might hurt you.

Otto sees this exchange from across the hall. He had not been moved to tears until this moment. He scratches his eyes before they fall and steels himself away as he walks off. He mentally takes note to observe the Cargyll brothers and to sternly remind them of their duty and vows.

Erryk follows you to your bed. You crawl into your bed as he drags the settee from across the room beside you. You offer him a pillow and he gratefully takes it. You knit your brows when he lies down. You sniffle, "will you not take your armor off?"

"I..." he starts, about to explain it is inappropriate.

"Is it hard to remove by yourself?" you sit up, "I can help."

"I-" but his words go dry when you begin to undo his steel uniform with much ease.

All your years assisting Gwayne in and out of his armor has made the act come easy for you. You think nothing of it, but Erryk's heart races as you undo his chest plate. He sucks in a sharp breath as you put the metal down, then refuses your help, resigning to undo the rest himself.

You sink into your sheets as you watch your knight lay his armor down. It occurs to you in this moment that this was the first time you'd ever seen him without it. Even through his loose dress shirt, you can see his defined arms and torso. You even see a sliver of a scar from where his shirt opened on his chest and it makes you avert your gaze, knowing you've looked where you should not have.

Your lips begin to wobble as you think of Daemon and the scars he had on his skin. You feel pathetic as you begin to sob again.

Erryk hates the sound. He sits down on the settee and sniffles, "would you like me to sing for you?"

You wipe the snot on your philtrum as you look at him.

"I do not think I inherited her voice, but my mother used to sing to my brother and I when we were younger."

The word mother makes you feel sick, but you do not tell him that, and simply nod.

He clears his throat and takes a breath, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."

A chuckle is drawn amidst your tears as Erryk continues to sing.

"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.

The day breaks and Arryk comes to your door for his shift. He holds a basket of flowers and a frown. He knocks on your door and announces himself. He is surprised when he hears footsteps approaching. His eyes widen when Erryk opens the door for him. His mouth falls at the messiness of his hair, then it clicks. Arryk nearly drops his basket as he grabs his twin by the collar, "what in seven hells have you done, you fool?"

Erryk is stoic as he responds, "my duty."

"Your-" he looks over his shoulder and pushes his brother into the room, closing the door behind him. Arryk makes sure to keep the silence and spares you a quick glance. The sight of your sleeping form makes him slightly soften, but he still manages to glare at his brother, "did you sleep here?"

Erryk turns to you, "she asked-"

"Did you sleep with her?" Arryk snaps.

The twins glare at each other. Erryk's face contorts in disgust, "I slept on the settee, brother. What do you take me fo-"

"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.

Erryk scoffs, clenching his fist, "and you would have left?"

"I would have waited for her to sleep and resumed my post outsi-"

"Please."

The twins turn, finding you sitting on your bed, rubbing your puffy face. They both instinctively step forward and speak in unison, "princess."

"Please," you repeat, "I asked him to stay."

Arryk turns to Erryk.

"I do not want you to argue because-" you cannot continue because you begin to cry.

Both their faces fall, but Erryk wastes no time in coming to you. He kneels beside your bed and takes your hand, repeating the song he sang to you last night.

Arryk immediately recognizes the tune. His heart tightens as he watches the display. He mutters under his breath, "what have you done?" He walks over to him and watches the way you squeeze his brother's hand. He thinks of how you did the same for him just yesterday and clenches the basket's handle tightly. He begins to sing with his twin.

"The fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head.

The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.

Alicent was with child again, and you were giving her a much needed reprieve from her energetic boy who was now nearing his second name day. Aegon happily reached for flowers as you carried him through the gardens. He laughs with not a care in the world. It is strange how deeply happy and deeply sad the boy makes you feel.

Through it all, you smile as you sing. You bounce him in your hip once you finish, "right, shall we go back now?"

Aegon blissfully ignores you when his hand brushes against a flower. You pull him away before he can grab it, and push his hand down, "no, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

Aegon cares little for your words and raises his hand again, "flower!"

You push his hand down and look at him, "you want the rose?" You adjust him in your arm, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

"Mummy?" Aegon repeats, turning to you to reach for your brown curls.

You chuckle when he tries to eat it and pull your hair away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon

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danburys · 1 month ago

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12 days of leverage christmas — day 01 family

you know, i never had that cool a time on a job. it's a walk-away. and i got focus issues, brother, you kept me right on. i'm really good at one thing. parker. only one thing. but, you, you know other things, and i can't stop doing my one thing, can't retire, and-- wanna know what i think? not really. how long before you fall apart again? oh, i'm touched. yeah, well, a guy like you can't be out of the game, alright? that's why you're a wreck. you need the chase. yeah, i'll manage. [...] you pick the jobs. my job is helping people. i find bad guys. well, go find some bad guys. bad guys have money. black king. white knight.

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notquitecanon · 28 days ago

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Not Quite Canon's Masterlist:

Just another multifandom imagines blog. All works are dated- so you can date my progress and track as my ADHD brain jumps from one hyper-fixation to the next

** Indicated NSFW. 18+ MDNI

Do Not Repost! Please and Thanks <3

Requests/asks are always open, the rat in my brain likes receiving little messages and notes of inspiration :)))

Works & Playlists below the cut!

Criminal Minds x Marvel crossover 2019, unfinished (masterlist)

Marvel:

Spangled Stars || Steve Rogers x Reader (2019) Whiplash || Peter Maximoff x Reader (2019) Like a Good Neighbor || Bucky Barnes x Reader (2019) Chance Encounter || Spiderman x Reader (2020) Look at You || Moon Knight system x reader (2023) ** Call Me… || Matt Murdock x Reader (2024)

See Also: Miguel O' Hara Playlist on Spotify 🎧 Criminal Minds / Marvel Crossover listed above ^^

Criminal Minds:

Christmas Vacation || Spencer Reid x Reader (2019) Fun Facts || Spencer Reid x Reader (2020) Thief! || Spencer Reid x Reader (2020) Missing || Spencer Reid x Reader (2020)

See Also: Criminal Minds / Marvel Crossover listed above ^^

John Wick:

First Impressions || John Wick x Reader (2020) With & Without || John Wick x Reader (2021)

DC Comics:

Zero Stars || Adrian Chase x Reader (2022) Beverage Napkin || Adrian Chase x Reader (2022) Stop Worrying || Adrian Chase x Reader (2022) Ghosting || John Constantine x Reader (2023)

See Also: Adrian Chase Spotify Playlist 🎧

Ghostbusters:

Here, Let Me || Dr. Egon Spenger x Reader (2021) Mandatory Attendance || Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader (2021) Happy Golden Days || Dr. Ray Stantz x Reader Snow || Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader (2022) For Emergencies Only || Dr. Egon Spengler (2022) >Part 2 (Metaphorical Rescue Eggroll) >Part 3 (The Love Hypothetical) Dust and Motor Oil || Dr. Ray Stantz x Reader (2022) Stardust & Fungi || Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader (2022) Tell ‘em bout the Twinkie || Dr. Egon Spengler x extroverted!Reader (2023) Hypno!kink headcanon (2022) (plotbunny free to good home) ** See Also: Ray Stantz Spotify Playlist 🎧 I Wanna Be Ghostbuster Playlist 🎧

That 70s Show:

First Dates || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020) Snowed In || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020) Comfort || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020) Slippery & Cold || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020) ** 4 Things Steven Hyde Agreed To & 1 He Didn’t || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020)

Star Wars:

From the Start || Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Reader (2019) Strings || Obi-Wan Kenobi x Politician!Reader (2020) Disappointment || Kylo Ren x Reader (2020) ** Sacrifice and Devotion || Din Djarin x Reader ( 2023) See Also: Din Djarin Playlist on Spotify 🎧

Twilight:

Cowardice || Jasper Hale x Reader (2020) Bad Moods || Jasper Hale x Reader (2020) Attitude Adjustment || Jasper Hale x Reader (2020) The Moment Before Eternity || Carlisle Cullen x Reader (2020) Firsts || Carlisle Cullen x Reader (2020) Spiked Punch || Jasper Hale x Reader (2021) GTA || Jasper Hale x Reader (2021)

Baldur’s Gate 3:

Insufferably Admirable || Astarion x Reader (2023) > Part 2 (Foolishly Admirable - 2024) See Also: Astarion || The Pale Elf playlist on spotify 🎧

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare:

Keep Talking || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2024) ** Warmth || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2024) Dense || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2024) A thought about Poly!141 x Reader (2024) ** >>Search History || Poly!141 x Reader (2024) ** >> Virtual Breadcrumbs || Poly!141 x Reader (2024) (Part 1.5) ** ~~~~Any additional asks or headcanons are posted under the #searchhistory on my blog!

Familiar and Whiskey || Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (2024)** Some clever sleep pun title || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2025)

See Also: POV: ur in love with Johnny "Soap" McTavish playlist 🎧

POV: ur in love with Simon “Ghost” Riley 🎧

#masterlist

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novaursa · 1 month ago

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Legacy (of bloodline)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: dragonstone

- Next part: castle black

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal

- A/N: Merry Christmas! 🎄❤️

The sun was beginning its descent over the jagged peaks of Dragonstone, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The salty tang of the Narrow Sea lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of smoke from the distant forges. You sat on a stone bench beneath the arch of an ancient alcove, your gaze fixed on the rolling waves beyond the castle walls. Damon played nearby, toddling around with a carved wooden dragon in his chubby hands, his laughter ringing out like a melody against the stillness of the evening.

Standing a short distance away, Ser Barristan Selmy, clad in his gleaming white armor, observed you with the same vigilance he had honed over decades. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, though his demeanor was calm, almost contemplative.

"You’ve been awfully quiet, Ser Barristan," you said softly, not turning to look at him. "I’m used to you offering wisdom, not silence."

The old knight allowed a faint smile, though his eyes remained watchful. "It’s not often I find myself with nothing to say, my lady," he replied. "But watching over you and your son has reminded me of… other times."

You glanced at him, curiosity flickering in your violet eyes. "Other times? Do you mean my father?"

Ser Barristan hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. "Your father, yes," he said finally. "But also your brother. And your house. I’ve served many Targaryens, my lady, each of you unique."

You nodded faintly, folding your hands in your lap. "And how do we compare to them?"

He chuckled softly, a rare sound. "It’s not a comparison, my lady. It’s a legacy. One that you carry with grace… and fire."

"Fire," you repeated, your voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and solemnity. "That seems to be all anyone sees in us. Fire and blood."

"That is your house’s motto," he said gently. "But it is also its truth. You wield both with wisdom, my lady. Not many can claim the same."

Your gaze drifted back to Damon, who was now crouched in the dirt, intently examining a line of ants. His innocence, his unbridled joy in the simplest of things, made your heart ache with both love and fear. "Sometimes, I wonder if that fire will consume us all," you said quietly.

Ser Barristan stepped closer, his tone firm but kind. "Fire, when tamed, can be a tool. A light in the darkness. It is only when it is left unchecked that it becomes destructive."

You met his gaze, searching for the wisdom behind his words. "Do you believe my fire can be tamed?"

He hesitated again, his expression thoughtful. "I believe it already has been," he said finally. "By your love for your son. And by the choices you make each day."

A soft smile touched your lips as you looked back at Damon, who was now holding up his wooden dragon as though it could truly fly. "He is my world," you admitted softly. "Everything I do is for him."

"As it should be," Ser Barristan said, his voice warm with approval. "You are a mother before anything else, my lady. That is a strength few can match."

You turned back to him, a question lingering in your eyes. "And yet, there are those who would see that as weakness. Who would take it and twist it against me."

Ser Barristan’s expression hardened slightly, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. "Let them try," he said simply. "They will find no weakness in you, only resolve."

You let out a quiet laugh, though it carried a note of gratitude. "You always know what to say, Ser Barristan."

"It is my duty to protect you, my lady," he said, bowing his head slightly. "Not just with my sword, but with my counsel."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sounds Damon’s laughter and the distant crash of waves against the cliffs. Finally, you spoke again, your voice quieter now.

"Do you ever wonder if my father saw any of this coming?" you asked. "The dragons returning, the battles for power, the… uncertainty of it all?"

Ser Barristan’s face grew somber, his gaze distant. "Your father… saw many things, my lady. Some of them real, others… the product of his mind’s decline. But I do believe he knew that the Targaryen fire would one day burn brightly again. Perhaps he saw it in you."

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "Perhaps," you murmured. "Or perhaps he simply wanted to believe it, even as the fire consumed him."

Ser Barristan said nothing, his silence a quiet acknowledgment of the truth in your words. But as the sun set lower, casting the courtyard in warm hues, you felt a flicker of hope amid the uncertainty.

For now, at least, you were not alone. And with Damon’s laughter filling the air and Ser Barristan’s steadfast presence by your side, you felt ready to face whatever the future held.

The courtyard of Dragonstone was filled with the sounds of clinking steel and the rhythmic stomp of boots as a few soldiers sparred near the barracks. The volcanic rock beneath their feet radiated a faint warmth even in the cool sea breeze, a constant reminder of the island’s fiery heart. The castle’s dark spires loomed overhead, their ancient stone stark against the pale sky.

Tywin Lannister stood at the edge of the courtyard, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. His pale green eyes surveyed the activity below with his usual air of authority, though his expression betrayed no particular interest in the proceedings.

Beside him, Jaime Lannister, clad in his gilded armor, leaned against the stone parapet, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He tilted his head slightly, watching the men train as the sea wind ruffled his hair.

“Still feels strange,” Jaime said, breaking the silence.

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver. “What does?”

“This,” Jaime replied, gesturing broadly to the castle around them. “A Lannister living here, ruling Dragonstone. If you’d told me a few years ago, I’d have laughed.”

Tywin turned his head slightly, fixing Jaime with a cool stare. “And yet, here we are. You’d do well to adjust.”

Jaime chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Oh, I’ve adjusted, Father. Believe me. It’s just surreal, that’s all. The House of the Lion, sitting comfortably in the lair of dragons.” He glanced at Tywin, his smirk widening. “You have to admit, it’s not exactly what anyone expected.”

Tywin’s lips tightened, though his tone remained measured. “The unexpected often proves the most valuable, provided one knows how to use it.”

Jaime turned back to the sparring men, his tone turning more reflective. “And what of Damon? One day, all of this will be his—Dragonstone, Casterly Rock. It’s a lot for a boy who hasn’t yet seen his second name day.”

Tywin’s gaze flickered toward the horizon, his expression unreadable. “He is my son. He will learn.”

Jaime raised a brow, his voice tinged with amusement. “You sound confident.”

“I am,” Tywin said simply. “Damon is young, but he carries the blood of two powerful houses. He has his mother’s intelligence, and he will have my discipline. He will be prepared.”

Jaime nodded thoughtfully, though his tone remained light. “And what if he doesn’t want all this? What if he grows up and decides he’d rather ride away from all this and live a simple life?”

Tywin’s gaze snapped to Jaime, his eyes sharp. “A Lannister does not have the luxury of simplicity. Damon will understand his duty, just as you were meant to.”

Jaime held up his golden hand in mock surrender, though his smirk didn’t falter. “Relax, Father. I’m not questioning your plans. I’m just… imagining.”

Tywin’s expression softened slightly—though only slightly—as he returned his gaze to the courtyard. “Damon’s future will not be left to imagination. He will have what is his by right, and he will rule it with strength.”

Jaime studied his father for a moment, his smirk fading. “You care for him, don’t you? I mean, really care for him.”

Tywin didn’t answer immediately, his eyes fixed on the sparring men below. “I care for my family. And Damon is the future of that family.”

Jaime nodded slowly, his tone quieter now. “He’s lucky, you know. To have you here.”

Tywin glanced at Jaime, his expression softening imperceptibly. “He will need more than luck, Jaime. The world is not kind to those who inherit power. It will test him, as it tests us all.”

Jaime said nothing for a moment, his gaze drifting to the distant sea. Finally, he let out a quiet chuckle. “Well, if nothing else, at least he’ll have the Rock and this… charming fortress of Y/N’s. A lion ruling a dragon’s lair. It has a certain poetry to it, doesn’t it?”

Tywin allowed himself the faintest of smiles, though it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Poetry has no place in politics, Jaime. This is about legacy.”

“And Damon is that legacy,” Jaime said, his tone laced with a rare sincerity.

Tywin inclined his head slightly, his gaze returning to the courtyard below. “Indeed. And I will see that he is ready for it.”

The two men stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. The distant crash of waves against the cliffs echoed through the courtyard, a reminder of the unyielding strength of Dragonstone and the family now tied to its destiny.

The evening air on was heavy with the scent of salt and the faint metallic tang of volcanic rock. Outside, the sea crashed rhythmically against the cliffs, the sound both soothing and ominous in the quiet of the night.

You sat in a high-backed chair near the fire, your hands loosely clasped in your lap. The soft fabric of your gown pooled around your feet, and the golden glow of the flames danced across your silver hair. Tywin Lannister stood at the window, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight as he gazed out at the endless expanse of water. His presence filled the room as it always did, commanding even in stillness.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was not uncomfortable, but weighted with the thoughts each of you carried. Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice steady but soft. “Tywin.”

He turned to look at you, his green eyes reflecting the firelight. “Yes?”

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking… about what we discussed last week.”

He raised a brow, his expression curious but guarded. “And?”

You shifted slightly in your seat, your fingers brushing the edge of the armrest. “About having another child,” you said quietly. “I’ve thought about it—truly—and I’ve decided… I’m willing.”

Tywin’s gaze sharpened, though he did not immediately respond. He stepped away from the window, crossing the room with measured steps until he stood before you. “You’ve made up your mind?” he asked, his tone calm but probing.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “I have. Damon is a blessing, Tywin, and he deserves a sibling. Someone to share his duty with. And I… I want this.”

For a moment, Tywin said nothing, his expression unreadable as he studied you. Then, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek before resting beneath your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. “You’re certain?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“I am,” you replied firmly, your violet eyes unwavering. “It’s not just for Damon, or for the legacy. It’s for us.”

A flicker of something softer passed through Tywin’s eyes, though his composure remained steady. He nodded slowly, his hand lingering for a moment before he stepped back. “You’ve always understood the weight of what we carry,” he said, his tone laced with something resembling approval. “This is no small decision.”

“I know,” you said softly, standing to face him. “But it’s the right one. And it’s one I want to make with you.”

Tywin’s expression softened—just barely—as he reached for your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “You’ve always been strong, Y/N,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of rare affection. “Stronger than most realize. Perhaps stronger than I deserve.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his hand. “You deserve more than you allow yourself to believe, Tywin. And you will be a father worthy of both our children.”

For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, leaving only the quiet intimacy of the room and the connection between you. Tywin leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against your forehead before resting his hand at the small of your back.

“We’ll do this,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “For Damon. For our family.”

You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled the silence. In that moment, there was no fire, no blood, no legacy weighing you down—only the promise of the future and the strength you found in each other.

Ten moons later

The chambers within Dragonstone were low lit, the heavy drapes pulled to block out the rising storm outside. The air was thick with the mingled scents of burning herbs, seawater carried in by the howling winds, and the faint metallic tang of blood. The hearth blazed brightly, its warmth doing little to stave off the tension in the room.

You lay propped against a mound of pillows on a sturdy birthing bed, your silver hair damp and clinging to your flushed skin. The midwives bustled around you, their soft murmurs blending with the distant rumble of thunder. A damp cloth dabbed at your forehead, its coolness providing brief relief against the heat building within you.

Nearby, Tywin Lannister stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his gaze locked on you. He was a looming figure of composure, though the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed the concern he refused to voice.

“You’re certain you won’t allow the maester?” one of the midwives asked tentatively, her hands wringing a clean linen cloth. Her voice was calm but edged with worry.

Your gaze flickered toward her, and despite the pain gripping your body, your tone was firm. “I’ve told you already—no maesters. I trust you, not their potions and knives.”

The midwife bowed her head, murmuring, “Of course, my lady.”

Tywin’s gaze narrowed slightly as he stepped closer to the bedside. “You’ve always been stubborn,” he said, his voice low but carrying its usual authority. “But if this becomes difficult, you will reconsider.”

You turned your head slightly to look at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the beads of sweat on your brow. “If I endured Damon’s birth without them, I can endure this.”

“This child may be different,” Tywin countered, his tone measured but edged with concern.

“Every birth is different,” one of the midwives interjected gently, glancing nervously between the two of you. “But Lady Y/N is strong, my lord. She’ll manage.”

“I always do,” you whispered, though your words were cut off by a sharp gasp as another wave of pain gripped your body.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the sheets, but you refused to scream. The sound that escaped your lips was more of a muffled yelp, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. The midwives exchanged worried glances but continued their work, checking the progress of the birth with practiced hands.

Tywin’s jaw clenched as he watched you, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t need to swallow your pain,” he said quietly, his tone softer than usual. “There’s no shame in it.”

You shook your head weakly, your breath coming in shallow pants. “It’s not… shame,” you managed to say, your voice strained but determined. “It’s control. I won’t let this… defeat me.”

His gaze softened fractionally, though his face remained impassive. “Stubborn, as always.”

You let out a faint chuckle, though it turned into a sharp inhale as another contraction rolled through your body. One of the midwives stepped forward, adjusting the pillows behind you and murmuring soothing words you barely registered.

“How far along?” Tywin asked the head midwife, his voice calm but clipped.

“Still early, my lord,” she replied cautiously, wiping her hands on her apron. “It may take some time yet.”

Tywin nodded curtly, his gaze returning to you. “I’m staying,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

You glanced at him, your lips twitching into a faint smirk despite the pain. “I didn’t expect otherwise.”

The storm outside grew louder, the wind howling like a dragon’s roar as rain lashed against the windows. Inside the chamber, the anxiety was at a high, every movement and sound magnified by the weight of the moment.

You gritted your teeth as another contraction built, your hands gripping the edge of the bed. The midwives hovered nearby, their voices low but reassuring, as they prepared for what was to come.

The storm outside raged on, its fury mirrored in the intensity of the final moments of your labor. Thunder rolled across Dragonstone, shaking the ancient walls as rain lashed against the windows in unrelenting torrents.

You gripped the edges of the birthing bed, your knuckles white with effort. The midwives hovered around you, their voices calm but firm, guiding you through each agonizing moment. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your hair plastered to your forehead as the tension in the room built to a crescendo.

“Almost there, my lady,” the head midwife said, her tone both encouraging and resolute. “Just one more push.”

You nodded weakly, summoning the last reserves of your strength. With a guttural sound that was more force than scream, you bore down, your body trembling with the effort. The pain was blinding, searing through every nerve, but then, like the breaking of a storm, there was release.

A sharp cry pierced the air—a new life taking its first breath.

The midwives moved quickly, their hands gentle yet practiced as they swaddled the infant in clean linen. The head midwife turned to you with a wide smile, her face flushed with relief and joy. “It’s a boy, my lady.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body sinking back into the pillows as the weight of the moment washed over you. Your heart pounded in your chest, but a sense of overwhelming relief and love began to fill the void left by the pain.

Tywin, who had remained a steady presence by your side, stepped closer, his attention fixed on the squirming bundle in the midwife’s arms. His expression was unreadable, though his gaze softened as the midwife handed him the child.

“Here, my lord,” she said, bowing her head slightly as she placed the infant into Tywin’s arms.

For a moment, Tywin stood perfectly still, his strong hands cradling the newborn with a gentleness that seemed almost uncharacteristic. The child’s tiny fists waved in the air, his cries strong and fierce, as though already asserting himself in the world.

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze unwavering as he studied his son. “He’s strong,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of approval.

You watched the scene through half-lidded eyes, exhaustion pulling at you even as a faint smile graced your lips. “What will you name him?” you asked softly, your voice hoarse from the effort of labor.

Tywin’s gaze shifted to you, his expression briefly unreadable before he looked back down at the infant. He was silent for a long moment, the weight of his decision felt in the room.

“Maelor,” he said finally, his voice firm and deliberate. “Maelor Lannister.”

The name hung in the air, resonating with strength and tradition. It was a name that carried the weight of both Targaryen and Lannister heritage—another bridge between fire and gold.

The midwives exchanged glances, murmuring their approval as they began tidying the room. One of them approached to take the child from Tywin, but he held up a hand, his gaze fixed on his son.

“I’ll take him to his mother,” Tywin said, his tone brooking no argument.

The midwife hesitated, then stepped back with a nod. Tywin moved to your side, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed as he gently placed Maelor into your arms. The baby’s cries softened as he settled against you, his tiny face scrunching in curiosity as he opened his violet eyes for the first time.

You gazed down at him, tears welling in your eyes as you ran a finger gently over his cheek. “Maelor,” you whispered, tasting the name as though it were a gift.

Tywin’s hand rested on your shoulder, a rare gesture of affection that spoke volumes. “He will be strong,” he said quietly. “Like his mother.”

You glanced up at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “And cunning, like his father.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Tywin allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to cross his lips. “A good combination,” he said simply.

The storm outside began to subside, the thunder growing distant as the rain softened to a steady patter. Inside the chamber, the atmosphere shifted, the anxiety giving way to a quiet, shared sense of triumph.

The great hall of Dragonstone was alive with subdued activity, the ancient volcanic stone echoing with the murmurs of lords, knights, and attendants who had gathered to await word. Despite the flickering firelight from the massive hearth, a chill hung in the air—an notion born of expectation. Large banners, emblazoned with both the lion of House Lannister and the sigil of House Targaryen, adorned the walls, their contrasting colors a stark reminder of the union that had shaped the future of this hall.

At the far end of the chamber, Tywin Lannister appeared, his stride purposeful as he descended the steps from the private corridors that led to the birthing chambers. His crimson cloak, lined with gold, swept the floor behind him, and his eyes were sharp, commanding the attention of everyone present. The room quieted instantly, a silence falling like the weight of a drawn blade.

Tywin paused at the head of the hall, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with the precision of a general surveying his troops. Without preamble, his voice rang out, strong and steady.

“My wife has given birth to a son,” he declared, his words echoing through the vast space. “He is healthy and strong. His name is Maelor Lannister.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall, the gathered lords and knights exchanging nods and whispers of approval. Tywin allowed the moment to settle before continuing, his tone brooking no dissent.

“Let the celebrations proceed,” he commanded. “But with restraint. The child’s health and my wife’s recovery take precedence. Keep your revelry within reason.”

The hall erupted in a wave of applause and cheers, though they were tempered, as if even the joy of the occasion bowed to Tywin’s authority. Goblets were raised, and servants scurried to ensure the wine flowed freely.

At the edge of the hall, Ser Barristan Selmy, ever vigilant, lingered near the entrance to the private chambers. His armor caught the flickering firelight as he stood with one hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword. His watchful eyes scanned the crowd, noting every movement and face with the precision of a seasoned knight.

It was then that he spotted Varys, the spymaster’s unmistakable figure leaning casually against a column. Varys’s hands were folded neatly in front of him, his silken robes flowing as he inclined his head in greeting toward Ser Barristan. His smile was subtle, yet unmistakable—a smile that spoke of secrets known and yet to be revealed.

Ser Barristan frowned slightly, his expression hardening as he straightened. “You seem… pleased,” he said, his tone careful but edged with suspicion.

Varys’s smile widened faintly as he stepped closer, his soft footsteps barely audible against the stone. “It is always a joy to witness the continuation of a noble bloodline,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying the practiced calm of a man accustomed to intrigue. “And what a bloodline it is, Ser Barristan. Another son born of lion and dragon. A moment worthy of the histories.”

Barristan’s hand remained steady on his sword. “And what role do you imagine yourself playing in this history, Lord Varys?”

Varys chuckled softly, his gaze flitting briefly toward Tywin at the head of the hall. “Why, none at all. I am but an observer, Ser Barristan. A humble servant of the realm, as ever.”

The knight’s gaze didn’t waver. “Some would call your humility suspect.”

“Some would,” Varys admitted, his smile never faltering. “But we each have our roles to play, do we not?”

Before Barristan could respond, Jaime Lannister approached his father, he strode through the crowd with his characteristic ease. His golden hand rested casually at his side, his expression equal parts curious and amused.

“Father,” Jaime said, his voice cutting through the murmurs around them as he came to stand beside Tywin. “So, another lion to the den. You must be pleased.”

Tywin turned to face Jaime, his expression as impassive as ever. “I am,” he said simply. “Maelor will strengthen our family’s future.”

Jaime smirked faintly, tilting his head. “You’ve always been about the future. What about the present? Will we be allowed to see him, or is he to remain cloistered with his mother for the next year?”

Tywin’s gaze narrowed slightly, his tone sharp. “Your new brother is with his mother, where he belongs. You’ll see him in due time.”

Jaime raised a brow, his smirk widening. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to disrupt the carefully laid plans.”

Tywin didn’t rise to the bait, his focus returning to the hall. “This is not the time for your flippancy, Jaime. This is a moment for the family, and for the legacy we build.”

Jaime glanced toward the gathered lords and ladies, raising his golden hand in mock surrender. “Far be it from me to interrupt the legacy.”

Nearby, Varys’s gaze lingered on the Lannisters, his expression thoughtful as the celebration continued. Ser Barristan kept his eyes on the spymaster, his unease unspoken but palpable.

As the wine flowed and the hall buzzed with muted revelry, the weight of the evening hung heavy in the air. The birth of Maelor Lannister was not just a moment of joy—it was a statement, a promise, and a warning to all who dared to challenge the combined strength of lion and dragon.

And though the great hall was filled with warmth and light, shadows loomed at the edges, whispering of the challenges yet to come.

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deepdisireslonging · 6 months ago

Text

Reassurance

Bruce and the Reader are kidnapped by Two-Face. Their kidnapper wants to make the Batman choose, unknowing that the Batman who shows up isn’t the one he expected. After being rescued, Bruce reassures you and himself that you two are safe. Which is something he needs after being completely helpless to do anything to protect you.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reporter!Reader

Warnings/Promises: canon-level danger and violence, near-death experience, angst, SMUT, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, fluff

Word Count: 3500

Note: This heavily reliant on the events of the Dark Knight trilogy. As well as being inspired by the 1995 “Batman Forever” situation with that version of Harvey Dent. It’s a bunch of plot for the express purpose of getting Bruce Wayne into ravenous, desperate smut with his lady-love. With that in mind, happy reading!

It had all happened so fast.

One minute, Bruce had been giving a toast. It had been another successful fundraiser downtown. The next, guns were stuttering and the guests were pressed against the floor as their valuables were removed. You were separated from the diamond bracelet Bruce had given you last Christmas. And Bruce hesitantly gave away his father’s signet ring. (But at ease knowing it was a replica. As was your bracelet.)

Two Face strode through the room. He paused between you and Bruce. With his charred face, he glared at you. You with your constant stream of news releases and exposés that kept uncovering his plans. And you, always able to evade him, until tonight. With his unblemished face, contorted with hate, he glared down at Bruce.

“Harvey –” he tried.

“Shut up!” Harvey Dent aimed his gun at Bruce’s chest. In his other hand, his fingers twiddled his fateful coin. He didn’t toss it. With a growl, he shot the ceiling instead. “Come on, before the Bat gets here. Bring both of ‘em with us.”

Bruce had pleaded with him to leave you there, playing up his more cowardly public image. He begged for them to come up with a different solution. And with a wave of his hand, Two Face ordered them to gag him.

There would be no resolution. No peace. Not until Two Face had what he wanted.

***

One of these days you were really going to have to talk with Bruce and the city council members about how many abandoned warehouses there were in Gotham.

You couldn’t budge. The ropes around your arms and legs, tying you to the chair, were too tight. At least you could breathe. A few feet from you, Bruce was tied up in a similar way, but still gagged. Unmoving and observant as he was, you could still see that he was uneasy. He kept glancing between you and Harvey.

The walls of the warehouse were practically gone. The one remaining concrete walkway you were on was at least four stories up, with only rubble on the ground-floor below. Two Face stared off into the distance as if he could watch Batman’s approach in the darkness. The make-shift Bat-signal he’d rigged together sat at his feet.

Only Bruce wasn’t startled when Batman showed up from the opposite direction.

“What is this about, Dent?”

Harvey turned slow, his unburnt side making eye-contact first, before he glared at Batman fully with both halves of his face. “Does this situation look familiar to you?”

You wondered if it was Jason or Dick under the mask. Neither of them had been in the life yet when Harvey Dent had fallen into working as Two Face. But Bruce’s thorough report of that night wasn’t too hard to find on the Bat-computer after a few hours of digging. When “Batman” nodded, you knew it was Dick. Part of you already knew your fate was sealed.

“The two of them had nothing to do with that night.”

“No, that’s true.” Dent took to flipping the coin. Up and down. Catching and flipping. The coin landed flat in his palm, unread and unacted upon. He grinned at you with his burned face as each flip made you shudder. “But each has… cost me greatly here of late. Instead of flipping a coin for each of them and being done with it, I thought this time I could give the choice to you.” Dent caught his coin and gripped it tight. “With half a chance, would you change the choice you made that night?”

Dick/Batman hesitated before answering. “Nothing about this is like that night. We both know now that the Joker lied to me, switching where each of you were. He’s bragged about it to you himself. As for Rachel—”

“Don’t.” Both sides of Dent’s face twitched with rage. He hissed, “you don’t get to say her name.” Sucked through gritted teeth, the breaths he took made his chest heave. A final sigh leveled out his control. “We were on opposite sides of town that night. The two of them are right here. Maybe you can save both. Maybe not. Which will it be? Heads: Bruce Wayne. Billionare playboy with more brains than he shows to the media. How many hospitals, grants, scholarships has he funded over the years?” Dent flipped the coin a couple of times. “How many suits has he replaced for you?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying—”

“I know Wayne tech when I see it. Don’t try to deny it.” Dent shifted his focus to you, making you flinch back in your seat.

As a young reporter you’d attended the funeral of Rachel Dawe. She’d been a role model for you. But this was the last second on earth that you’d mention that in front of him. You breathed a sigh of relief as he faced Dick.

“Or heads: the reporter. A lifetime ago, she would have been a huge help to my cause. What the courts couldn’t decide fast enough, she could write and share with the world the research we all needed to hear. As she’s doing now. She’s your source of information, isn’t she? Isn’t she!” He grimaced. “Time to choose.”

At his feet, Dent kicked at a device bolted to the floor. On second glance, you noticed the wires traveling through holes bored into the concrete. They led under your chair, and another set ran under Bruce’s. Your eyes widened as you noticed the collection of explosives poking out from under the edge of the walkway… right behind his chair. You assumed you had a set too. Both of them ready to crumble your square of concrete towards the rubble below. Or to blow you to kingdom come the second Dent stepped on the device to set off the charges.

Dick slowly moved his hand toward his tactical belt. “Your men are on the bottom floor. Right under us. If you set that off, this floor will crush them. You yourself will have nothing left to stand on. It looks like the choice is yours: eliminating two thorns in your side, or being able to continue your business ventures.”

A slick smile slid across Dent’s face. “I made my choice years ago. As for my men… they made their choice when they accepted pay from me.”

“Dent—” In a very Nightwing motion, he held his palms out before returning them to his side to hold the stoic Batman pose.

“It’s Two Face. And would you point out the same double-sided leadership to your protégé turned ‘businessman,’ Red Hood? How is his war in weapon sales going against Black Mask these days? I’m tired of this.” Dent stepped forward, placing the toe of his patent-leather shoe on top of the device. “Ready to make your choice?”

Dick’s glance flicked towards Bruce first, who furiously shook his head. When he looked at you, you slowly shook your head. “It’s okay. Bruce Wayne can do more in one night,” your voice cracked, “one night of fundraising than I can do with ten stories. It’s okay.” As Bruce struggled in his bonds, tears began to course down your cheeks. You knew when those charges blew, he’d only be able to race gravity for one of you. And Bruce Wayne, the billionaire and the real soul of the Batman; he was more important to the future of Gotham than you.

As the charges fired, Bruce screamed behind his gag.

The ground fell out from under you. It was no surprise when the dark black blur darted away from you to fall over the opposite edge. Even so, you screamed out your fear, your pain, your goodbye. Only for it to cut off mere feet from the bottom as a blue blur snagged you out of the air. Your scream turned to frantic laughter. It took some effort, flying through the air as you were, but “Nightwing” (who had to be Jason) was able to cut the ropes so the chair dropped to the earth. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I thought you were supposed to be in Blüdhaven.”

Your rescuer alighted next to the Batmobile, where Dick was just landing with Bruce. The brothers shared that Two-Face’s goons had been collected long before Dick had shown up and were on their way with Damian to Commissioner Gordon. Two Face had been harnessed into the ceiling. It had lifted him out of danger and ensured his get-away. Dick smiled under the cowl.

Jason glared at his brother-in-arms. “Say nothing.”

“Blue looks good on you.”

They would have bickered longer, but Bruce darted between them. He held you fast in his arms. He kept patting you down, searching for anywhere you could be hurt.

“Darling, I’m alright.”

“Couldn’t do anything.” He glared at Dick. “You scared the hell out of me, not going after her.”

Dick’s jaw clenched. But he managed not to break eye-contact. “Red Hood was already on her side of the building. We were in constant communication throughout. Neither of you were in any danger of the fall.”

With the way Bruce’s shoulders were still tense, he didn’t seem to fully believe that. You knew he trusted his sons totally. But tonight had cut close. You smoothed your thumbs across his cheeks. “Let’s go home.”

Apologetically, Dick tried to say, “there’s not a back seat. Red was going to—”

“We’ll manage.”

Bruce sat in the passenger seat first, and you sat on his lap. All the way home, he ran his hands over your limbs, still checking you over. And his eyes kept flicking to the road. To the dials and buttons on the dash as they flashed. To Dick as he drove, still in his cowl and cape. And all the way home, you did your best to put him at ease. Your blood was still pumping and your nerves were alight, but you ran your fingers through his hair. Ran your forefinger down his nose and cheeks. You pressed your forehead to his. As much skin contact as you could give him, you gave. As much calm as you could give him, you borrowed back.

Wayne Manor eventually loomed. Dick let you two out at the door. If anyone asked for it, the front cameras would provide visual evidence that you had been returned by the Batman. He drove off in a scuttle of gravel after watching Alfred let you into the house.

“We’re alright, Alfred.” You managed to wave him back to bed before Bruce lifted you in his arms and carried you up the stairs.

Thankfully, he waited until Alfred was long out of sight before sitting you down on a random hall table and latching his lips onto your pulse point.

“Can’t you get us to the bedroom?” You smiled through his kisses. “The boys could walk through and…”

“It’s my house.” Bruce shed his jacket and dress shirt, and he began fumbling with the hem of your dress. “I can ravage you where I want… where and when I need to.”

Still, he froze as your hand spread across his bare chest. “I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t tell Dick to save you instead of me.” He panted. Sweat was beaded across his brow. “I can’t do this without you. Not anymore.”

“You have me.” You kissed him. “You’ll always have me.” Hugging him close, you cried into the crook of his neck.

Batman hadn’t been able to save both Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawe that night. In the end, he still lost both. The choice, distorted as it was by the Joker, still weighed on him. The guilt had woken him up many a night. Like with every nightmare, you soothed him back to sleep. He was constantly afraid that he’d lose you like his childhood friend. Always afraid that he’d be out on patrol and some underworld power would grab you. No ransom would be too high for Bruce Wayne. No number of obstacles would be too much for Batman. What if he was a second too slow? What if the money wasn’t the point, and they harmed you anyway? What if… The what-ifs swirled in his mind constantly. They were swirling now, blinding him to anything but feeling you safe in his arms.

As for you? You still stood by what you told Dick to do. Nothing could change it. And you stood by your promise to always be with Bruce, even if only in memory should the worst occur. In your mind, he had been Batman long before he met you. He could be Batman long after you’d gone. You swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring that fateful possibility. He had you. Here. Now. Home and safe. In his arms.

“You’ve got me,�� you whispered. “We’re alright. I’m okay.”

Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours and his hands were smoothing up your thighs. You rolled your hips forward, and wrapped your legs around his thick torso. You knew every muscle. Every scar. And every bruise long after they’d faded. Bruce ran his hands over your body, feeling your form still trapped under your dress. He knew the same points about you. Every muscle honed from self-defense training with Damian. Every papercut and bruise from archive drawers. And every inch of skin that he’d kissed a thousand times before. He couldn’t get enough.

You laughed as your dress ripped, pulled apart at the seams by a desperate man. His hunger paused as he finally saw the surprise you’d had in store. The entirely black set was your gift to him last Valentine’s Day. He trailed his fingers over the lace on your breasts before diving his face between them. You arched, digging your fingers into his hair. While he left open-mouthed kisses across your chest, you whispered as much comfort as you could. But your ability to speak was quickly degrading into soft moans and whines.

You wanted to be held. You wanted to be held so tight you could barely breathe. You wanted the space to wrap yourself around him like a snake looking for heat. Only his body would be able to warm the shiver out of your spine.

When you sighed as much, he only grunted.

He was lost in you. Lost to the word and the weight of it’s brokenness.

You were home. You were safe. You were in his arms. Skin to skin wasn’t enough anymore. Now he needed to be in you.

Bruce’s wandering touch finally drifted down across your tummy to the apex of your thighs. His fingers curled through the gap in the crotch of your panties. The wetness there made his knees give out. Face level with his target, he dove in, more hungry and hazy-eyed than when he kissed the valley of your breasts. While he ate you out, you gripped the back of his head, steadied yourself on the wall behind you, gripped the edge of the hall table, and you held onto anything you could while your vision blurred. One finger, two fingers curled while his tongue did the rest. He sucked hard on your clit, nearly toppling off your seat. Bruce took advantage of your folded position and hefted you over his shoulder.

Trapped there, you could do nothing but writhe as he continued to play with your wetness as he carried you down the hall. The fancy dress was left in shreds on the floor. You clenched on his fingers. With a growl, he dropped you to your feet. He pinned you to the wall, pressing close. Where your nails clawed into his shoulders, rough and desperate, his kisses to the underside of your jaw were soft and languorous. On the other hand, he never stopped wringing pleasure out of you by quickening the curling of his fingers. His thumb circled on your clit, weakening your knees. But he wouldn’t let you fall. The press of his body over yours was what he needed.

“You’re mine. You’re safe.” He hovered his lips over yours. “Tell me: how are you?”

Now? Your mind reeled. But every time you were about to answer, he’d change the pace of his fingers, or scissor you open, or change the direction of his thumb on your clit. Then your mind would blur. And speech left you. Finally, you managed, “you bastard.”

He smiled against your mouth. “Good.” If you could sass him, then you were completely at ease. His tongue curled into your mouth.

You accepted it, sucking on it like your walls were clamping down on his fingers. But as he quickened both, your breath stuttered. Your nails carved deep half moons into his skin as your body convulsed. Pinned to the wall, your body had nowhere to go as you shivered head to toe. Pinned back, you had nowhere to go when Bruce kept moving through your release. Your mouth fell open, panting with the onslaught of pleasure.

Bruce grinned against your cheek. Once again, he picked you up. This time, he wrapped your legs around his waist. He finished the journey to the master bedroom. When he laid you down, you were still hazy with release. It gave him time to rake his gaze across you again. He took in the heaving of your breasts in the lingerie you picked out. And the way your thighs tried to cover up the mess he’d made of you already. The only remnant of the fancy evening were your heels. Nearly passed out on his bed, there was nothing left of what Dent tried to do to you. He frowned. On second glance, your wrists were beginning to bruise.

From under your fluttering lashes, you took time to look him over too. How his torso shimmered with that fine layer of sweat. How his hair was mussed and his gaze was wild for you. But from the waist down, he was still presentation ready. Give or take the muddy patches on his suit pants.

“You’re wearing too much,” you said.

The frown shifted into a smirk. Slowly, he began to undo his belt. He leaned one way, then the other, as he removed his shoes. With a bit of shimmying, he bared every inch of skin for your view. He slid his hand into the one you reached towards him. His grip between your fingers was just short of painful. Carefully, he loomed over you, pupils blown wide, and his breathing heavy. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Please, Bruce.” You closed your eyes as he slowly sheathed into you. A tiny whimper slipped out as he gripped your wrists, pinning them to the sheets on either side of your head.

When he moved, it was like he was trying to relearn you. Each twist and spear of his hips searching out your sweet spots reassured him that you were the same woman who had woken up by his side that morning. You were the same woman who took days or weeks to research an article topic, only to type it up an hour before the due date. Your cries were the same. How you moaned his name was the same. You were the same woman who walked into his life and immediately made it better.

He was the same man as that morning too. Even after a night of keeping Gotham safe, he could aways make you forget your own name. But you remembered his. Every drag and spear that made you quake brought it up like a talisman. Here was the man who knew your every worry. He listened to your every ramble and collection of convoluted theories for hours. And he came back to you. Triumphant or bloody and bruised, he always came back. Right now, he was replacing the bruises on your wrists with his own. And he was replacing the worries in your mind with nerve-blinding pleasure.

“Darling,” you keened, “please. So close.” You didn’t say you needed him. Or that you needed him to do anything, even to cum. He was taking what he needed from you.

Bruce pressed his forehead to yours. “Look at me.” He pleaded, “look at me, please.”

Taking a deep breath, you forced your eyes open. And you almost collapsed under the desire in his gaze.

He turned his hips in that certain way, and you did collapse. Crying out his name and clawing the air, your body seized. Bruce stuttered and moaned, held in place by your walls and by the sight of you falling apart beneath him. He filled you. Thrusting to chase those last sparks of release, he hummed your name.

Finally, he pulled out and fell next to you on the bed. You curled into his warmth with his chest against your back. When his arm draped across your hip, you smiled.

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Bruce pressed his nose into the spot right behind your ear. He inhaled deeply. “We’re okay.” “Yes. We’re okay.”

***

General Masterlist

DC Masterlist

More smutty goodness with Bruce Wayne: A Night at the Theater

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne angst #dc comics #batfam x reader #dick grayson #jason todd #two face #harvey dent #reader insert #batman smut

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fandomnerd9602 · 3 months ago

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Halloween Bug

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

It was your first Halloween season with your lovely doe Wanda. Honestly it felt great.

You had spent the evenings watching scary movies and not so scary movies with Wanda. Having her curled in your lap while you fed each other candy and popcorn was amazing.

Natasha was happy for the two of you. She noticed Wanda running back and forth down the hallway of the Sanctuary, bits of fabric in her fists.

“Where are you going, Bambi?” The red haired wolf asked with a chuckle.

“It’s a surprise!” She replied before taking off to the arts and crafts room.

Wanda wouldn’t allow you to see it just yet. Halloween was fast approaching and the glee in Wanda’s eyes grew.

She loved this time of the year. She used to spend Halloween with her family and now she gets to spend it with you. She was gonna be able to forge new memories with you and wanted it to be perfect.

Halloween day had arrived and your pal Stark got a little Halloween party going for all the hybrids.

You came out of your room dressed as a knight, a reminder of your love and devotion to your mate.

“Wanda,” you said, your mate still hiding in her room. “We’re gonna be late for the party”

“I’m ready for you to see my costume. Are you ready?” Her sweet voice said through the door.

“I’m ready my doe” you said with a chuckle.

And then she stepped out. Red cape, a custom red bathing suit with pink stockings and red boots. Your mate’s antlers were blended perfectly with the red crown she wore.

She was stunning. You almost found yourself kneeling before your forest queen.

“I’m a Sokovian Fortune Teller,” she says with a giggle, “and I take it you’re my knight”

“To always guard you, my queen”

Wanda puts a gentle hand on your armored shoulder. “I love you my knight. I always feel so safe in your arms”

You stand up and wrap her in a hug, “by your side Wanda, that’s where I wanna spend my life”

Wanda giggles, her nose scrunches and her tail wiggles. Just a few little things that make you love her even more so.

The party was a success. You and Wanda made your way home, happy and content as can be.

“You know,” your mate giggles, “my costume is a two parter”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she bites her lip playfully, “I’m not just a fortune teller.”

She kisses you and pulls different parts of your knight armor off of you. You tug at her cape, letting it flutter to the ground.

“I’m also a cuddle monster” she purrs, getting you out of your armor before gently pushing you to the couch.

You share kisses, nuzzling and cuddling as you grab the TV remote.

“Wanna watch Harry Potter, my little cuddle monster?” You ask, kissing her nose.

“Can we watch Chamber of Secrets?” She asks excitedly.

“Of course!”

“And tomorrow we start on Christmas movies!!” She adds excitedly.

You’re gonna love watching all things Christmas with your doe. You just know it.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @olsenmyolsen

#marvel #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #elizabeth olsen #bambi #Bambi Wanda #halloween #scarlet witch

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holdmytesseract · 1 year ago

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Birthday Magic

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everybody around you tends to forget your birthday, because of all the Christmas trouble. Except Loki, of course...

Warnings: none, except a tiny bit of suggestive smut (Blink and you'll miss it.), fluuuuff

Word Count: 1,9k

a/n: This fluffy lil' oneshot is a part of @fictive-sl0th 's Secret Santa Event! 🎅🏻🎁 I had the honour to write mine for @give-me-a-moose ! 🤗 I really hope you like this! 🥰 And happy belated birthday! 💚

Secret Santa 2023 Taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficionaldomina @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @cultofcarter @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @glitchquake @holymultiplefandomsbatman @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @quirkiest-turtle

Tags: @huntress-artemiss @chennqingg @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @goblingirlsarah @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds

divider by the lovely @jiyaxedits <3

Yawning, you stretched and opened your eyes; blinking, before you reached over to turn off your alarm clock. The winter sun shone through the big French doors of your bedroom. You immediately saw that it had snowed over night; a white blanket covering New York City. It was beautiful - and yet was a certain sadness overshadowing the wonders of winter...

You sighed and rolled out of bed; finding a little note on your bedside table - like every day. Even when Loki was on a mission, the note appeared on your night-stand magically.

'Good morning, angel. Have a great day. I love you. x'

Your boyfriend's words made you smile at least a little bit, until realisation hit you. He didn't remember. Of course he didn't remember. Nobody ever does.

You hung your head; trying to suppress the upcoming tears. Today was your birthday, but since it was December and Christmas in not even two weeks, hardly anyone remembered your birthday. Everyone was just too caught up in the preparations for the holidays. And as sad as it sounded... You got used to it. Perhaps that was the reason why you stopped telling people about your birthday.

With another sigh, you made your way into the kitchen to eat a little something for breakfast. Then you got ready, put on your winter coat, boots and beanie and went to work.

Luckily, it was at least a normal day at the office. The regular every-day madness. You quickly got all the things done on your to-do list and were even able to call it a day one hour earlier than usual. After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you took the subway and headed back home. On your way, you got a chocolate cupcake - a little something for yourself to celebrate your birthday. You could already picture it... You, the cupcake, decorated with a single candle and a big glass of alcohol. Perfect.

Sighing, you turned the key in the lock of your apartment on the 5th floor. You absolutely had zero expectations of today and expected not the slightest thing to happen. Therefore, you were more than just surprised, when you walked inside a literal pool out of balloons, birthday decorations and... confetti? You frowned; thinking out loud. "What...?"

You weren't able to finish your thoughts, when suddenly Loki jumped around the corner. "Surprise, my love!" He wore the biggest smile on his face - and a party hat on his head. "And the happiest of birthdays to my ray of sunshine!"

You blinked; felt like a deer caught in the headlights. It was beyond your wildest dream. Never ever surprised you somebody on your birthday like Loki just did. Sure, your parents did, back when you were a child, but... Late teens and early adult years? Nope.

"L-Loki? I-I... What... What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be o-on a mission?" You stammered out; trying to grasp this. Your boyfriend was still smiling like a Cheshire cat. "Of course not, darling. It was just a little white lie, so that I was able to set this up while you're at work." Then his smile faltered a little. "Do you not... like it?"

You could've cried then and there out of happiness.

"What? No! No! I do like it! Gods, I love it! It's been years since the last time somebody surprised me on my birthday like this!" You couldn't help yourself but to jump into his arms; wrapping your legs around his waist. "Thank you. Thank you so much, baby." Loki chuckled; his big hand stroking your back in a reassuring, loving manner. "I-I thought you forgot my birthday... Just like everyone else and-" "Darling..." Loki interrupted you immediately. "I could never forget the birthday of the person I love the most in all the nine realms - and especially not the first birthday we are about to share together."

A few tears ran down your cheeks. Tears of happiness. "You're the best." A low chuckle rumbled through your boyfriend's chest again, before he gave you a wink, "I know." and a smile. "And this..." He gestured around the hallway. "This is only the beginning."

Loki didn't exaggerate when he said that this was only the beginning. Oh no... After he had carried you through the sea of balloons into the kitchen, he showed you the cake he had baked for you. You were absolutely thrilled of course, and it tasted delicious. You blew out the candles and ate a big slice, just like Loki.

After that, he told you to wrap yourself up in warm clothes, because you were going outside. And again, you weren't in the slightest prepared. You wouldn't have thought that Loki rented the ice rink only for the two of you... For as long as you wanted.

"Loki, are you... Are you insane?" You laughed; not believing what was happening right now. The god just laughed and tied the laces of his ice skates, "Insanely in love, perhaps." before he glided gracefully on the ice rink. "Are you joining me now, my love?" He asked with a mischievous smirk, while he skated like the ice prince he was past you. You smiled brightly and quickly exchanged your boots with ice skates.

After you and Loki have been enjoying yourselves on the ice rink; making races and even tried to 'dance' to the music playing in the background together, you went back to your apartment. Cold and with frozen toes, but happy.

"I think I need a hot shower now," you said; feeling the goosebumps on your skin. "You do just that, darling." "Won't you join me?" You asked suggestively; wagging your eyebrows. Loki chuckled. "I'd love to, but I have a few more things to organise. I'll see you later. Take all the time you need." He pressed a sweet kiss on your lips and left you alone to shower. You were slightly sad that Loki wasn't going to join you, but you were also super excited. This birthday was already the best you ever had. What would be able to top that?

Wallowing in the memories of the wonderful hours you already spent with Loki today, you showered and stepped thirty minutes later out of the bathroom. To your surprise was your apartment immersed in darkness - and your boyfriend vanished.

"Loki?" You hesitatingly called down the hall, but received no answer. "Where is he?" you mumbled to yourself; making your way to the bedroom. Arrived there, you switched on the lights and immediately saw a large, thin box laying on the soft mattress. Frowning, you approached the bed. A note was laying on top of it, on which you could clearly make out Loki's handwriting.

'I hope this dress is worthy of the goddess who is going to wear it. You will be awaited downstairs at eight o'clock.'

Your heart almost stopped at his words. A big smile formed on your face. Biting your lip, you carefully opened the box - only to find a beautiful emerald green dress inside it. It was so stunningly beautiful, it took your breath away. With wide eyes, you lifted it out of the box; gasping. "Oh he can't be serious... He can't..." You let your eyes roam the fabric. "Wow..." You breathed in awe, then squealed; excitedly getting ready and dressed. The dress fitted you perfectly; molded against your dips and curves.

Five minutes before the clock stroke eight o'clock, you made your way downstairs. Excitement and nervousness coursed through your body. You couldn't wait to see what Loki had planned.

When you stepped out of the main door to the rather small building you lived in, you felt your breath catch in your throat - again.

Loki was standing on the sidewalk, in front of a black limousine; dressed in a green velvet suit with a black dress shirt and bow tie. A bouquet of black roses was in his right hand; his other stuffed in his trousers pocket and a bright smile on his face.

He looked devastatingly handsome.

You felt like fainting and crying out of happiness at the same time.

"There you are, my love." He said in a happy voice; "You look ravishing." giving you that smouldering look. You blushed. "T-Thank you. You look handsome, t-too." The god softly shook his head; causing his long raven curls to sway. "Not remotely as beautiful as you look."

He then stepped closer; gave you a soft kiss and handed you the bouquet of roses. "T-Thank you. For everything. For the cake, the ice skating, the dress, the roses..." Loki only chuckled; placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the limousine. "Like I said, darling... It's only the beginning. We are not finished yet." Mischief twinkled in his beautiful blue orbs, as he opened the car door for you.

"After you, my goddess."

You blushed even more and sat in the car.

A fifteen minute car ride later, you stopped in front of one of the finest, noblest restaurants in whole New York City. Once more, your jaw dropped. "No, Loki... You... You are kidding me, right?" Your boyfriend chuckled; shaking his head "I'm not." "B-But Loki, this... This is way too expensive! I-I don't deserve this, I-" He interrupted you by taking your hand in his and placing a soft kiss upon your knuckles. "You, my love, deserve the world. Especially on the day you were born."

He led you inside the fancy restaurant then, to a table he had reserved for the both of you.

The time you spent there with Loki was splendid - just like the food. It had been quite a while since you ate so good. Especially at a restaurant. The ambience was lovely and the waiters absolutely kind and friendly. You enjoyed the talks with Loki, the glasses of wine and also the soft jazz music in the background.

After the dinner, the limousine took you and Loki back home.

"Thank you for this wonderful day, baby. I didn't have such a wonderful birthday in years. Thank you for thinking of me and giving me all this. And especially... Thank you for your love." Loki smiled and embraced you; gently, lovingly swaying you from side to side. It almost felt like you were dancing.

"You don't have to thank me for that, my love. It goes without saying. I love you - and my purpose is to make and see you happy. Oh, which reminds me of something... Your actual birthday present..." Your eyes widened once again. "No, Loki, stop you've given me enough..." Loki shook his head; still smiling. "It's not a physical present."

Now you were confused. Something the god noticed immediately.

Loki took both your hands in his. "Your birthday present is a trip to Asgard."

You stared at Loki; speechless. "W-What?" He just smiled. "I know that you always wanted to go there; see my home and... I... I think I'm ready to go back with you and show you everything you wish to see." "R-Really?" He nodded. "Really."

Tears formed in your eyes. The realisation hitting you that Loki was willing and ready to open up the doors to his past for you was touching you deeply. "Thank you. Thank you for trusting me this much, I- Wow, I... I love you."

Loki smiled. A gentle hand caressed your cheek and wiping your tears of happiness away. "I love you too."

You couldn't help but to stand on your tiptoes and kiss the god.

"This is the best birthday ever!"

#secret santa event #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

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deepperplexity · 2 months ago

Text

Prompt 6: Wrapped Tightly [OS]

Pairing: Young Severus Snape x Young Female Hufflepuff You

Set in: Year Seven of Yours and Severus’s Hogwarts time

POV: Second, Reader

A/N: I wanted to write something sweet, something cute, something fun and warming in a one-shot to take a little break from the serials of Brandon, Gruber, and Turpin that I have going on so far this Rickmas so here we are with a young Snape 🥰 Now, it was supposed to be short but… umh, yeah… 👀 P.S the potion in this story is completely made up.

Also, side note, we had a family Christmas crafts day at work (the library) today and there was so much happening I feel like I've been in a whirlwind and I need to finish tomorrow's prompt but I'm all drained after the super-energy at work 😅

Tags/TW’s: Mutual Secret Pining, Young Love, First Kiss, Hand Holding, Knight In Shining Armour Vibes, Illegal Potion Making, Rule Breaking, Sneaking Around After Curfew, Disastrous Potion, Slight Banter/Teasing (fun kind!), Nervousness, Low Self-esteem

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name | Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Word Count: 4.6k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Wrapped Tightly

Your hands ached, your mind solely focused on counting the stirs of the cauldron. …forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one… On and on it went, you would count until you hit eighty-three and then stir the potion counter-clockwise sixteen times before setting it to simmer for the upcoming eleven hours — perfectly timed for when you’d return from breakfast the day after. You’d have to get an early breakfast to make it in time but curfew was coming closer for this Friday evening so you had no choice but to make it at this time.

What you were doing wasn’t exactly allowed, but then again, no great things are discovered or created by strictly following rules and regulations, right? There, switch to counter-clockwise and one, two, three, four, five… It was a relief to move your arms in the opposite direction while you focused on counting — trying not to let the potentially disastrous outcome of brewing an illegal potion in a restricted tower of your school could yield; especially if the potion didn’t go as planned.

You pulled the wooden spoon of honey-waxed oak out of the potion at the exact right time, staring into the still-swirling potion for any signs of it changing colour for a long minute. It did not, and you let out a sigh of relief. The icy blue liquid was thick and white fumes with what looked like minuscule crystals wafted up from the cauldron as you adjusted the burner beneath it. Nothing happened, the potion remained the same and you clapped your hands giddily.

Before leaving the cold room with a slight shimmer to their walls as the fumes filled the space, you cast another three secrecy charms and a trespass hex for good measure. Rather someone gets a bit of a headache than discovering what you were up to, honestly.

The clock struck nine, the giant clock tower not far from the tower you occupied boomed it out and you closed the door to get yourself back to Hufflepuff quarters. You were on the wrong end of the school, and at the top of it which also happened to be opposite to where your dormitory was. Hufflepuff wasn’t as deep down as Slytherin in the dungeons but still, like the badger representing your house, you were down below.

You sneaked down the swirling staircase of stone, staying close to the inner wall, and made sure to keep your steps light and quiet. The curfew was in effect and now, with the halls lit with more candles and dressed in sparkly globes of magical ice, your reflection could be spotted as well if a teacher on patrol happened to pass nearby.

“Miss Y/l/n,” came a quiet voice and you halted while stiffening. “Perhaps you should take a left, lest you run into old Filch in a minute,” it continued as you turned your head only to find Sir Nicholas peaking his head out from the wall, literally just the head and the tiny flap of skin holding it attached to his shoulders which were hidden within the wall or perhaps behind it — you weren’t sure how thick the walls actually were. “Sir Nicholas,” you whispered. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the teachers’ side?” He smirked, his moustache twitching. “Oh, I like a good joke as much as anyone and what you’re brewing will be a fantastic one.”

You scrunched your brows. What you were brewing wasn’t intended for any joke. “What do you mean?” “Come now, he’s nearly here.” You looked around. “I can’t walk through walls,” you whisper-hissed. “No, but you can open the door,” he chuckled and disappeared. Door, what door? “In here,” came a voice you knew all too well. Your heart quickened at the dark drone and you looked slightly behind you. “Severus?” “Come on,” he said and a hand shot out through the wall— no, through a crack in the wall that suddenly opened wider. A hidden passage? I thought I’d found all— woah! You got yanked through the second your hand landed in his and darkness wrapped tightly around you along with stale air and an eerie quietness.

He pulled you closer, you stumbled on the uneven stone floor and planted your face against his harsh chest in the process of nearly falling face-first. He smelled too good. Sage, peppermint, and a scent all his own. Your heart leapt anew and your pulse quickened rapidly. “Sch,” he hissed as you were about to apologise for stumbling into him.

Footsteps moved past the other side of the wall— erh, door. You both stood absolutely still and you could not help but inhale his scent deeply, feeling that ever-growing warmth in your gut once more — as you did each time you lay eyes on the young man who a year ago had fully caught your attention when he saved you from a potion about to explode in class. It hadn’t been your potion, but the benchmate you sat next to. Had Severus not pulled you away and down from the bench next to you on the other side you would have ended up in the Hospital Wing for weeks, like Mr Biscy (the boy who was brewing) had.

You’d liked Severus before that, mostly by his appearance and this strange allure he had. You’d chalked it up to the bad-boy-vibes and the utter lack of interest he seemed to hold in anyone — even the world — and that was something you were fascinated by. Fine, alright, given your badger status, you were also quite happy to make friends and drag those friends along for the crazy ride that was life. To see people realise how not docile Hufflepuff people were was like the icing on the cake, to be honest.

“He’s gone,” Severus said, the dark drone even deeper with your head so close to his chest. You almost whined a complaint as he let your hand go and stepped back. Your eyes had adjusted to the darker space but it was still hard to see much of anything. “Thanks,” you said with a wide smile. “Why are you out beyond curfew?” he asked, and you could have sworn his brow arched and his face hardened a smidge. He was so pale and his hair and clothes so dark that the features were actually visible even in the gloomy space. “Wouldn’t you like to know."” “I would not have asked otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes, the saying going over his head apparently. “It’s my business. I could ask you the same question, you know.” “True.” He turned and began walking, you followed quickly. "But I am not the one nearly caught. Good for you Nicholas told me.” “Wait, he told you? What did he tell you?” Please, nothing about the potion for Merlin's sake. “That you were about to get caught by Filch. I can come out of that unscathed, you, however, could not.” The drawl of his voice nearly sounded smug.

You knew the squib and Severus had some strange form of friendship, or even a bond perhaps, but there was never a chance for you to ask anything about it. Hell, you barely got a chance to ever speak to or even be this close to Severus — he was a bloody expert at keeping distances… Annoying. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to admit that you truly fancied him, because there was no happiness to come from that given Severus barely acknowledged anyone's existence — yours included.

“There should be rules about teacher pets,” you said quietly. “True. It would not have any effect on the caretaker of Hogwarts, though. Would it?” he said, again, a hint of smugness to his voice you could not quite remember ever having heard before. “You’re awfully smug, bit of a git behaviour that,” you said in a we’re-talking-about-the-weather kind of voice. “Smug? No.” “Then, what?” He stopped, you nearly crashed into his back before he looked over his shoulder at you. “Happy…” he murmured before speeding off in long strides while your brain misfired and your legs had to start sprinting on instinct to follow the leader - so to speak - as you had no idea where you were or where the small hallway was taking you.

Happy? Why happy? Have I never heard him happy before? I don’t think I have. Why is he happy though? Is it me— pfth, don’t be daft. But why? You caught up to him as your brain fired thoughts at you in rapid form. “Happy?” you asked. “Why? What makes you happy? I love it, but why?” you rambled while walking as fast as your shorter legs would carry you. Severus took such long strides you had to fight to keep up as the hallway twisted and turned, sometimes going down a few steps, and sometimes going up.

“I could help you,” he said quietly, his words barely audible. “Help me? Well, yeah, Filch would have caught me so I’m very thankful for the help.” It looked as if he nodded at your words but you weren’t quite sure in the gloom. Come on, get him talking, this is your chance! But Severus beat you to it. “Why are you… sparkling?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

You held out your hands and arms, well, shit, you hadn’t thought about the fumes sticking to you as well as the surrounding area. “Erh, glitter bomb?” Severus snorted. “Sure, glitter bomb. Engineer a better excuse.” “Unicorn farted on me?” you said with a whitheld laugh. “Better. Try again.” What, no laugh out of that? “Fine, a Christmas elf sprayed me.” He sighed. “Try again. Careful, steep drop here,” he said right after and slowed his steps.

Severus stepped down, turning him a few inches shorter than you which looked so odd. “Here,” he said, holding out his hand. You hesitated for a moment while your fingers tingled with the prospect of getting to hold his hand. You grabbed on, he took a sturdy grip with those long fingers, and you stepped down the high step with a bit of manoeuvring. “Where are we?” you asked and he released you. “Almost by Hufflepuff.” “What?” “Yes.” “But we were over on—” “Hogwarts has many passages and secrets.” Severus glanced back at you. “Now, another, better, excuse.” How about the truth? “Alright, I was brewing the Dragon Ice potion and the fumes got all over the place.”

Severus halted, you crashed into his back with an oomph! and a thud. “You what?” he asked, turning to face you. “Brewing the Dragon Ice potion—” He grabbed your upper arms. “Are you completely out of your mind?!” he hissed. “Where’s the potion? Where are you doing it?” “Southwest tower, the restricted one with the—” “Idiot. Come on,” he said with exasperation and annoyance mixed with urgency. “What? No, it’s not done until eight in the morning, it’s simmering for—” “For eleven hours as per the recipe in the restricted section, yes, but that’s the incorrect recipe!” he snarled, grabbing your hand and pulling you back the way you came.

You dug your heels in. “What? But it says the same thing in all three books,” you said, halting all movement. “Yes, and they are all incorrect to keep people from brewing it!” “What?” you asked, worry beginning to gnaw in your gut despite the warmth and absolute joy it was to have Severus so close. “What will happ—” “It will explode, turn everything in close vicinity to ice.” “You say that as if you’ve done it before.” “I have, and I learned,” he said. “You’re about to learn that you don’t brew dangerous, illegal potions at school where, if things go wrong, the evidence is in everyone’s faces. Y/n, what were you thinking?” he asked, anger and frustration seeped through his voice but he was not quite mean to you. “I need the money.” “So brew less dangerous potions!” “No, I need a lot of money.” “Don’t we all…” he muttered

“Come on, we need to break the potion cycle before it turns half the castle into an ice cube.” “Wait, what?” He jerked on your arm and you both began moving again. “Yes. The fumes are already turning your clothes hard, aren’t they?” When you thought about it, yes, your cloak felt stiffer than usual and your skirt wasn’t moving as swiftly around your thighs. “I’m becoming ice?” There had been no bloody warning about that in the books. Severus snorted. “No, of course not. It’s more like your clothes being covered in frost, not ice. It stops after a few minutes. The potion, however, is another matter.”

You both walked at a brisk pace all the way back to where you came from. Sir Nicholas appeared just in time when you reached the wall that was really a door. “Back so soon?” “Dragon Ice,” Severus said, and Sir Nicholas smiled and chuckled so his head nearly toppled to one side. “Yes, quite the jester our Miss Y/l/n.” He glanced at me with weird eyes of mischief one usually didn’t see in them. “It will be so much fun when—” “No, Sir, it’s the wrong recipe, half the castle will turn to ice if it explodes. And it will.” Sir Nicholas stiffened. “Oh dear, Miss. Quite the pickle we’re in now.” But there was definitely mischief in his eyes, it looked wrong on this specific ghost but not in a necessarily bad way.

He floated backwards, out of the wall, and then reappeared again. “All safe, onward mighty students, to stop the botched potion!” he said with fanfare as if you two were knights in shiny armour. It was endearing but the bravado was a bit too much at the moment. “Let’s go, Severus said and pushed open the wall— door, before grabbing your hand anew and pulling you close behind him toward the entrance to the tower.

You started up the swirling stairs, rushing up them. Truth be told, it was hard to be fast when Severus held your hand, but you had no incline to let go. Who knew, perhaps you’d never get to feel his fingers squeeze around yours ever again after tonight? It felt as if you were in a whirlwind — there was so much happening that you barely had time to reflect on the fact that you were with Severus, holding his hand, nearly running with him and that he’d spoken more to you in the past fifteen minutes in one go than ever before. And he said he was happy… But you had no time to think any more of it as you reached the door.

“Good hex,” he said, grabbing at his forehead with his free hand while you drew out your wand and undid it. “Thanks, it was in—” “Uncomfortable Spells For Protection, restricted section.” You chuckled. “Yeah.” “And here I was, thinking you badgers were sweet, none rebellious creatures,” he said, that smug sound in his voice once more but now you knew better. “Aren’t you serpents supposed to be greedy, evil people? Not ones to help those in need with diffusing disaster potions and keeping people out of harm?” “Touché.”

You chuckled before pushing the door open with the back of your wand-holding hand and arm. “Shit,” Severus said, seeing the room filled with a blue-tinted fog that wasn’t at all the type of fumes you’d left it filled with not too long ago. “It didn’t look like—” But Severus let go of you and rushed toward the cauldron, looking into it and interrupting you. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” he muttered before starting to search through the pockets of his robe. “Where is it, where is it?” he muttered further as you moved closer in the freezing room with walls, ceiling and floor covered in a thin sheet of ice and small icicles were forming across the ceiling, too.

“Well, this is bad,” you said, not sure if you were panicking or having a laugh at the whole thing. “Yes, bad, very bad,” Severus muttered distractedly, still searching his robes. “Maybe we should get a teacher?” “No, this will not end well for us.” “Us? You haven’t done—” “I’m here, aren’t I?” True… “But you haven’t done anything, you can go to the dungeons while I get a teacher.” “No time for— Shit! It’s going!” Severus snarled, nearly tearing his clothes apart when ripping at the pockets.

Panic surged through you as the cauldron began trembling and creaking while the potion swirled like a whirlpool. A very beautiful whirlpool of glitter, silver, and blue. But ominous. “Get out, Y/n!” “No way!” you shouted back. “This is my fault!” “We’ll be pop-sickles in a minute!” Had the situation not been so grave you would have burst out laughing. But Severus looked far too serious. “We’ll melt eventually!” you shouted over the sudden storm-like winds spinning around the room, coming from the cauldron. Small flecks of ice scratched at your skin and forced you to squint.

Severus grabbed his wand, shouted something, and a small cluster of purple twigs with white leaves flew from a pocket and into his hand. “Get down!” he ordered and you ducked as he threw the material into the cauldron before covering you with his own body. Your heart hammered, your pulse raced and in the midst of whatever was going on with the potion and dire situation you were in some bizarre form of heaven with Severus holding you tight while half laying over you to protect your head and back was there too, wrapping itself tightly around your heart.

The cauldron exploded. You gasped and whimpered from the shattering sound before the noise of splattering liquid came a second later. Another second passed and quietness took over. No more storming winds, no creaking cauldron. Only the odd dripping noise now and then along with the drumming of your own pulse in your ears and the feel of Severus’s heart against your back with his harsh breathing fanning over the top of your head.

After another moment you both straightened. The room was an absolute mess of darkly blue goo. A dense liquid closer to slime than anything else covered everything, including the wide-eyed Severus standing before you. He had protected you from most of it. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gruff and low. You nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you replied while looking around the room before landing back on him again. “You’re not though, your hair, it’s turning blue…” “Blue?!” He reached up and grabbed at the long black strands turning blue from root to tip like the black lake freezing over.

“It’s not so bad—” He gusted out a harsh breath through his nose while glaring at you. “Not, so, bad?” he snarled. “I’m blue, Y/n. Blue.” You couldn’t stop the giggle as all that had been black on him turned blue. A vibrant blue to boot. “It’s pretty, very, umh, Christmasy,” you said, endeavouring to hold back the laughing. But, in your defence, he looked like a blue gnome with porcelain skin. “Christmas is red and green, if you’ve not noticed.” “No, it can be any colour you—” “By Merlin, if you say one more word about it I will hex you, Y/n.” “Well—” you stepped closer, loosening the tightly gripping fingers out of his own hair “—hex away if it makes you feel better, I owe you big time for this… I mean, I could have been blue. Can you imagine a vibrantly blue badger? Nope, nope, nope. Blue snakes exist, so, no worries there.” “Pacifying me with facts, are we?” he asked, but he seemed less angered and softer as you brushed away some blue hair from his face and adjusted the now blue coat that had been askew.

Looking up at him, you found his onyx eyes mesmerising. He looked slightly alarmed, but there was something to say for being the focus of his attention. Your heart certainly had a say about it, it galloped along like reindeer across the Christmas night sky rushing to bring the sleigh of Santa all around the globe.

“Purple,” you said. “Purple?” “Plum purple, now that would suit you splendidly. Perfectly matchable with black, too, mind you.” He arched a brow. “Plum purple?” You nodded. “Make plum juice next time then, badger.” “Next time?” you asked, your knees turning slightly wobbly. His eyes hardened and widened a bit at the same time. “Or not, not like I care either way.”

His voice trembled ever so slightly, a lightness to it — as if he was suddenly embarrassed or something along those lines. You were too occupied with wondering what he meant to think much of it.

“You know, it’s not nice to say you’ll stick around if you have no plan to do it. I keep my friends, forever. Unless they do something shitty I can’t forgive,” you said. He glanced away for a second and then looked back at you. “Well, I wasn’t suggesting friendship.” You tilted your head, trying with all your might to understand if he was rejecting you despite having helped you immensely or if this was his way of saying he felt something for you as you certainly did for him. You had hinted at it, you had tried to get closer to him — but Severus, well, he wasn’t one to allow distances to shrink.

“Severus, are you saying I should keep my distance or are you asking me out on a Christmas date?” you asked, throwing caution to the wind and diving in head first. The blue hair shimmered as he glanced all around the room except at you. “Maybe…” he muttered, redness creeping up along his neck and covering the tips of his ears peaking through the still-moist hair.

You sighed, trying to find his gaze with your own. “Maybe what? Maybe a date? At Madam Puddifoots next weekend with some sweet treats and hot drinks in the corner booth?” “Something like that, perhaps…” His voice was so deep, so low, you barely heard him. “Will you still be blue? Should I match?” you asked, unable to hide the warmth and giddiness in your voice despite trying to lighten the mood as the poor bloke seemed absolutely stressed about the potential of going on a date. Pfth, it's probably more just talking and being with someone and admitting to feelings and all that stuff but bloody hell I am right now damn thankful for potions going wrong.

Severus still hadn’t said anything, he just looked at you. “Well? Will you still be blue?” “Are you— Are you making fun of me now?” he asked and the depth of his voice turned uncertain. “Absolutely not.” “You will go on a date, in public, with me?” he asked, his features tight but his eyes soft. Better be clear here… “Yes.” “I didn’t think you actually liked me.” “I’ve been trying to show that for a year now, you're very difficult, you know.” “Too difficult?” “HA! There is no such thing as someone too difficult to love, Severus.” “Love?” he asked, alarmed. “Well, I’ve had a crush on you since Biscy nearly landed me in the Hospital Wing with his potion exploding.” Severus snorted. “How he messed up so grandly I’ll never understand.” “Perhaps not, but you noticed before anyone else did. I’ve always found you interesting, you know.” “Have you?”

You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows at him while the atmosphere softened and eased. “Well, yeah, I’m a friend collector and I always want to rope in as many kinds of friends as possible — you certainly are one of a kind, helpful, too.” “Why does that sound incredibly ominous, badger?” “’cus it is. And if you’re my boyfriend, well, all the more fun things I can rope you into doing. Do you think failing a Dragon Ice potion is the only mischief I’ve ever been up to?” you asked, laughter and mirth in your voice as Severus’s eyes widened in alarm. “I believe I am about to find out…” “We badgers are on a whole other level. Like the time the cups turned into mice in the great hall, that was us. The singing trees in the dungeons, also us. The ice rink in the hallway on the fourth floor, also us. Remember that time everyone started floating about as if gravity went haywire?” Severus nodded. “Well, that was me. Who knew messing with gravitational spells to create a new one could make such a bloody mess of everything?” “Anyone with two brain cells to combine,” he snarked and you smirked at him, he wasn’t serious or harsh about it — it sounded as if he were joking with you, to be honest.

“Think you can handle it?” you asked, stepping closer. “Obviously. I may be blue, but we’re alive and the castle is whole, no thanks to you.” Severus looked down at you as you inched even closer, feeling all tingly as his eyes warmed a bit. “So, knight in shiny armour it is,” you said, grabbing his hand and squeezing. He arched a brow, not impressed apparently. “Shiny armour?” “Ugh, fine, black knight,” you conceded and reached up on your toes.

Before he could react, or step back, you planted your wanting lips atop his and kissed him with everything you believed he could handle. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it certainly appeared to be his as he stiffened and did not so much as soften his lips — it was sweet, endearing even. When you leaned back he looked paler than a ghost but he didn’t appear to particularly dislike what you’d done.

He stared at you for a long moment while your hands warmed each other. “You kissed me,” he said, eventually. You smiled widely. “Supplying me with facts?” “I wasn’t prepared.” “Oh, shall I do it again on the count of three?” you asked, joking and smirking at him. His eyes flickered from yours to your lips and then up again. “If— If you want to…” His ears turned scarlet red at that and your heart absolutely melted. “Three, two, one,” you said quietly as you leaned closer and then you kissed him again. This time, he softened and tentatively kissed you back while his hand turned utterly warm around your own.

When the kiss broke, Severus seemed as shocked as before. “You did it.” “Well, yes, I wanted to,” you said brightly. “Now, will you still be blue for our date and the breakfast tomorrow?” “No. It will pass in about six hours with a good shower and new clothes.” “So no matching then,” you said with a smile. “And no plum purple,” he replied. You laughed as he smiled carefully. “You’re quite the hoot, you know that?” “Perhaps you hit your head when you ducked?” You laughed again. “Perhaps, perhaps, but at least my head isn’t blue.” “Touché,” he replied before turning to look at the mess of the room. “This will take time to undo,” he continued. “Nah, a few spells and we’re good. On toward the next mischief.”

You never did tell him why you brewed the potion, or why you needed the money only illegal and dangerous potions to sell could bring in. That was a future discussion; if the relationship led to something more serious. For now, you’d enjoy a Christmas with the Slytherin you’d wanted for over a year — even if he were currently very blue you had no qualms about kissing him for a third time when he undid his cloak and rolled up his sleeves to help with the cleaning. The fact he stiffened and his ears reddened this time, too, only made you feel as if he was the sweetest thing that you’d eventually corrupt with shenanigans, of course.

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Well, this was fun 🥰👏 It really was supposed to be a short thing, just like a small tidbit of fun teenage shenanigans and then boom - inspiration hits and you gotta type type type 😂👌

I hope you’re enjoying this first week of Rickmas - which character is your favourite to read about when it comes to Alan? 😍❤

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