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frankenkyle19 · 4 months ago

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“Amaze-Balls”

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader (smut)

word count: 4.1k

we’re so back baby!!! Official kinktober list coming out soon with the actual fic ideas as well for you guys to look forward to. Enjoy. I have to admit my smut writing skills are a little rusty :/

warnings/description: reader is a nurse who is also a mutant with healing powers. She resides at the school and helps patch up any kids that end up hurting themselves. Except it’s usually Peter that’s coming through her door to get fixed up. But today he’s a bit down and reader wasn’t to find out why. Leads to.. Well I’m sure you know. smut, porn with plot, handjob, teasing, slightly sub!Peter, crappy writing oh and a tw for mentions of blood from a minor scrape Peter has.

When Charles Xavier reached out to you, asking if you’d be interested in taking a position at his school, you weren’t sure what to make of it.

Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters

It sounded promising enough. A stable job, a place to live and a place you’d be protected? You were a mutant as well, though you didn’t consider your powers to be as cool as any of the X-men’s. Healing. But not any of the cool, important healing, the most you’d ever been able to heal was a small cut or a broken finger or toe. Ease a bit of pain in the body at times. Still, Charles saw promise and potential in you. He drove you a bit mad at times. The man was odd but my god he was a genius. Sometimes having a conversation with him could actually hurt your brain because you just couldn’t keep up.

You’d also been introduced to the rest of the X-men. Most of which intimidated you. Minus Peter of course.

Peter Maximoff. Closer to your age then the rest of them, Peter was a silver haired kleptomaniac with a Hostess snack cake obsession and super speed. He’d been the only person who’d made you truly laugh since you arrived and it immediately eased you. He hadn’t been there long either so the two of you were sort of in the same boat with feeling a little like outsiders.

Unfortunately you didn’t have a lot of time to speak to him. He was busy with students and missions and you were busy making sure that no one died on the premises. It was a full time job. Literally. A school full of young mutants was a recipe for disaster. Barely held together.

You’d see him at dinners and meetings for the X-men that Charles sometimes allowed you to attend. According to him you’d be one of them one day. When you were stronger. You were sure he meant it to be a kind, hopeful sentiment but really it just made you feel like shit. Useless. Only good enough to be a school nurse.

Peter found any excuse in his free time to come to your office. You were torn between believing he’d truly done it because he wanted to speak with you, and the fact that you always had a little tray of treats for the students after they’d been patched up and treated. You presumed the latter.

Today was just like any other day at the school really. It had been a quiet morning which turned into a quiet afternoon and it was a much needed break from the chaos. The kids seemed to be behaving themselves today. Knock on wood.

You were sitting in your chair, feet propped up against your desk as you read from whatever book Charles had recommended you. Surely something you didn’t find any enjoyment in because he read the most boring books on earth. You’d taken one of the cookies from your tray of treats, holding it in one hand while the book was in another.

Just as you brought the cookie to your lips, there was a knock on the door and it caused you to jump, dropping the book onto the floor and losing your place. You cursed under your breath before turning your attention towards the door. Of course just as you’d started to relax someone had ended up hurting themselves.

“Come in!” You set the cookie down on your desk, surely to be forgotten while you waited to see which kid had gotten into trouble this time.

Except when the door opened, a familiar head of silver hair popped into view and it definitely was not attached to the head of a child. Maybe in spirit perhaps, but no, it was Peter.

“Peter?” You asked, brows furrowing as he made his way into your office before closing the door behind him, looking all sheepish and shy. That’s when you noticed he was bleeding from his chin. It looked to be just a scrape but still, you didn’t like the sight of blood on him. Someone you cared about.

“What happened?” You stood up, making your way around the desk to examine him closer.

Peter scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, an embarrassed blush splotched over his cheeks.

“Oh.. pffff, totally wasn’t running with my eyes closed to try and impress the kids and I definitely didn’t trip on a rock and fall chin first onto the concrete. That’s definitely not what happened.”

Your immediate reaction was to roll your eyes. Leave it to Peter to get the most ridiculous wounds from doing the dumbest things. It just made sense.

“How did you even manage- you know what, I’m not even going to ask. You know the drill, up on the table, let me grab some antibacterial wipes.”

You made your way over to the cabinets on the opposite wall of your office as Peter hopped up onto the table, eyes never leaving you. He hadn’t hurt himself on purpose but he knew if he had really wanted to he could have put his arms out in time to stop himself from falling. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to see you.

Coming back with the supplies you set it on the side of the table next to him, first getting a wipe to wipe off the blood. It revealed a fresh, raw scrape underneath where more blood began to bubble up slowly from the now open flesh. It wasn’t bad but he’d have a scab for at least a few days before the skin healed itself.

“You always get yourself into the most ridiculous situations.” You scoffed as you tossed the now bloodied wipe into the small trash can.

Peter nodded in agreement, unusually quiet which had you wondering if something else was up. You didn’t want to pry though.

You continued on in silence, cleaning the scrape before applying ointment and covering it with a bandage. You pulled away and tossed the rest of the trash away before reaching for the tray to offer Peter a treat, his favorite part of coming to see you.

Except he just shook his head and looked at you solemnly. “No thank you,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he looked away

Okay. Now you knew something had to be wrong. The Peter you knew would never turn down a little treat, it’s what kept him going! You’d never really seen him without one. You were determined to figure out what exactly had bummed him out so badly he didn’t even want a cookie.

“Peter…” you started, looking at him seriously. “What’s wrong? Something happen?” You hoped that he trusted you enough to tell but then again you weren’t sure.

“What? No.. no it’s nothing.” He flushed red now, picking at his fingers as he avoided your gaze. He hated lying to you. It felt wrong and he knew that you knew he was lying too.

“Peter Maximoff. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong right now or I’m going to have the professor read your mind. Spill.” You urged, kicking his foot with your own, gently. You just wanted to know what had happened to make your usual happy go lucky speedster so upset.

He finally made eye contact with you then, eyes wide at your threat. “Okay okay! Okay… Jesus.”

He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before he started. “It’s just, I had a date… It went great, she seemed super into me but then she asked me why I’d decided to dye my hair silver and when I explained to her I didn’t do anything to my hair and told her about my powers she totally flipped. She left. Called me a freak and told me to never contact her again.” He rushed out, trying to just get the explanation over with. He didn’t want to talk about it any longer than he had to. It was as embarrassing as it was upsetting.

There was a silence that fell between the two of you then as you tried to find the words to comfort him. He was obviously torn up about it. Could only imagine how it had felt. You’d never experienced anything like it because your powers were quite easy to hide and play off. Peter’s on the other hand- not so much.

“Oh Peter… I’m sorry that’s-“ you didn’t have the words. Why were people still so cruel to mutants? Would it ever change? You’d heard Charles’s speeches countless times about change, how some day they’d be united but the more time that passed, the less you believed him. Was it even a possibility at this point?

“That’s horrible. You didn’t deserve that and she didn’t deserve you.” You hoped your words at least brought him a bit of comfort until he opened his mouth and spoke once more, the words he spoke next breaking your heart into pieces.

“Do you think I’m a freak? Like- I get it. The speed, the… The hair.” He’d never really had an issue with his hair but sometimes he wished that he didn’t have it. He’d kill to have a normal color. One that would make him less easy to identify as anything other than normal. But the fact of the matter was he wasn’t normal. Wouldn’t ever be normal as much as he tried to pretend.

Your brows were furrowed deeply as you reached a hand out to rest on Peter’s shoulder as he sat on the exam table, looking more solemn than you’d ever seen him. It didn’t suit him. You wanted the happy, goofy Peter back.

“You are not a freak, you’re a mutant. There’s a difference. You are you and you shouldn’t have to be scared of showing who you really are, Peter. There are always going to be people who will try and tell you who you should be but you need to listen to your heart.” You rested your palm over his chest, right above his heart as you met his sad, brown doe eyes.

He seemed to consider your words, picking them apart for a moment before he nodded. You were right after all. He hated how sensitive he could be. Wished he had tougher skin. Perhaps it would come in time, the older he got. He hoped he wouldn’t always have this sort of reaction.

You gave him a small, warm smile. When you smiled at Peter it wasn’t just with your lips. It was your eyes and the way they lit up. Your nose with the way it scrunched up, and your cheeks with the way they reddened just slightly.

Peter felt a fluttering in his stomach as he looked at you. You who’d been here all along. He’d always sort of had a thing for you but never believed that he would have a chance. Fuck… He’d been rejected once already, what was one more?

You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

Fuck it.

“Would you kiss me?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper but you heard it clear as day. Why had he asked such a question? You weren’t sure but you were certainly going to give him an answer.

Without much consideration at all you leaned forward and closed the gap between your lips, closing your eyes as Peter’s warm mouth came in contact with your own.

It was absolutely electric. The spark that seemed to pass between your bodies as you kissed. It started out slow, calculated and nervous before it began to become more free. Heated. You reached to cup Peter’s cheek in your palm as you leaned closer to him to kiss him deeper. It felt so different then any kiss you’d shared with anyone in the past. This one just felt right. Almost familiar as if the two of you had done it a thousand times before. Maybe in another timeline..

Eventually, much to Peter’s disappointment, you had to pull away to take a breath. Peter let out a quiet whine as his now swollen lips chased your own in desperate attempts to get you back on him again. Like he couldn’t live without it. His lifeline.

“Slow down,” you laughed softly, cheeks flushed. It was sort of ironic, telling the speedster to slow down because you were sure he probably didn’t know how.

“Telling me to slow down is like telling a cow not to eat grass,” Peter said with a straight face. Why was he so strange?

“I’m pretty sure that’s not an actual saying-“

“I’m pretty sure I don’t care- Come back here-“ he grinned as he pulled you into another kiss, his large hands coming to rest on your hips, keeping you close. He didn’t want to ever let you go. Slowly you felt yourself leaning into him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders, feeling the material of his stupid silver jacket under your palms.

Peter was in heaven. Maybe that woman calling him a freak was the best thing that ever happened to him if it led up to this. Kissing you. He pulled you impossibly closer, feeling a familiar stir in his groin. He let out a little groan against your lips, his hips moving of their own accord trying to seek out much needed friction on his rapidly hardening length. He needed something, anything.

“Please…” He found himself whispering against your lips, already desperate. If he didn’t feel so needy he’d be embarrassed but there was simply just no time for that now.

You were fighting your own losing battle with your body, trying not to feed into the needs you felt when you laid your eyes on Peter, still sat on the table, brown eyes blown wide and lips swollen and red from kissing. He looked like something out of a wet dream.

“Peter we can’t- not here- not right now- what if someone sees?” You tried to be the voice of reason but Peter wasn’t having it. He zoomed over to the door, locked it and then zoomed back to you again, this time coming up behind you, pressing himself against you as he chuckled hotly against your ear. “Door’s locked now. We can do whatever we want.” He pressed warm, open mouthed kisses across the delicate skin of your neck, his hands beginning to creep under the bottom of your shirt.

“Plus I think I need a full body check-up. Just to make sure everything’s alright. That I didn’t hurt myself anywhere else.”

He was an absolute dork but that’s what you loved about him. With a little laugh you shoved him back against the table before your hands went to his pants, undoing his belt before trying to get the fabric down his legs which proved harder than you originally thought. Why were they so damn tight? Eventually though you did manage to pull them down, leaving him in a pair of black boxers, tented in the front with a rather prominent bulge.

He let out a shaky breath as he watched your every move, waiting to see what you’d do next because right now he was convinced he’d let you do whatever you wanted. Okay… Maybe not whatever. Definitely not like… anything super crazy but- UGH! His brain needed to stop moving so fast and just stay in the moment because he was sure it was about to become really memorable.

Your fingers curled under the waistband of his boxers before you were peeling them down as you got on your knees in front of him.

Poor Peter’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched you, trying to stay still when you pulled his boxers down leaving his lower half completely exposed to you. His length twitched and a shiver ran up his spine as he was exposed to the chill air of the room.

The chill didn’t last though because soon your warm hand was wrapped around him, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure to have him gripping the table with his hands, head tilted back as he let out a sigh of pleasure.

You looked up at him, a smirk on your lips as you stroked over him a few times before spitting in your hand and continuing your actions.

A moan bubbled up from Peter’s throat, filling the room before he bit down on his bottom lip to try and stifle the noise. The last thing the two of you needed was for anyone to hear because you’d never live it down.

“Feel good?” You asked, as if Peter’s actions and movements weren’t telling enough.

“Course it does, baby- feels so fucking good I- can you use your mouth?” He asked shyly, glancing down at you.

“Why else would I be on my knees, Peter?” Your words seemed to momentarily make his brain short circuit because the next thing he knew, your beautiful lips were wrapped around the tip of his throbbing cock and he felt his knees nearly buckle at the feeling.

“Holy shit- mmmm, that feels absolutely amazing- like you’ve got no idea-“

You liked the way he vocalized his pleasure. It had you wet as you continued to swallow him down as best as you could without gagging.

Peter’s hips stuttered a bit, trying not to thrust into your mouth. He didn’t want to hurt you but it just felt so good and plus he’d never been great at staying still. It was truly impossible for the speedster.

You didn’t mind, breathing hard through your nose. You took him as deep as you could before pulling off of him to suck in a breath, a string of spit connecting your cherry red lips to the tip of his dick. Now that was hot, Peter thought. Hell, who was he kidding? It was all hot.

“You want to keep going like this or you want to do this properly?” You asked, brow raised at the silver haired man who took a moment to respond. You watched the gears turn in his head until it seemed to click.

“I- Holy hell baby, fuck yeah I want to do this properly let’s get this party started!” He shouted excitedly before you shushed him with a reprimanding look.

You stood up, pulling your shirt over your head before stepping out of your pants as well, leaving you in only your underwear and bra.

Peter whistled low under his breath, shaking his head. You were absolutely smokin’! He mentally kicked himself for not initiating all of this sooner.

“You look- I mean- you’re absolutely beautiful.” He whispered.

“I appreciate it Peter, but I’m not sure how much time we have and I’d like you to take off the rest of your clothes and get this show on the road, yeah? Think you can do that?” Your slight teasing voice had him twitching once more and he quickly threw off his jacket and shirt and kicked his pants the rest of the way off of his legs.

The two of you were urgent with your movements, wanting to get to it before a child inevitably ended up hurting themselves and rushing to your office. Your time was limited but lucky for you, Peter was just about the best person for a quickie. Hell, it was practically in his name.

Your lips collided again, teeth narrowly avoiding clashing against each other as you kissed fiercely.

Peter watched in awe as you unhooked your bra and slid off your panties, letting them join the ever growing pile of fabric on the floor by your feet.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked Peter. Before you had a chance to blink he rushed out of the room and not even a second later came back with one firmly gripped between his fingers.

“Did you just- Peter you’re naked! What if someone saw you?” You shouted, smacking his shoulder before snatching the condom from him, tearing the foil at the perforated edges before pulling the condom out.

“I’m fast as hell baby, no one was gonna see m-oh-“ He moaned as you rolled the condom onto his length, giving him a few firm strokes for good measure before you hopped up onto the table, spreading your legs to give him a good view of just how much you needed him.

He wasted absolutely no time in grabbing you by your hips and pulling you towards the edge of the table, stepping between your legs as he positioned his rock hard cock at your entrance. He was throbbing and practically shaking with anticipation as he looked up at you once more to make sure this was okay.

You gave him a little nod, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him closer. His tip slid into you with ease thanks to how wet he’d made you and the both of you simultaneously let out a little shaky moan at the feeling.

Peter’s palms rested on either side of you on the metal table. He felt the cold beneath his palms rapidly heating from his body temperature as he glanced down at you. He was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

Slowly he began to press himself farther into you, watching as you just seemed to suck him in. More more more until he was fully seated inside of you, filling you up in such a delicious way that had you practically squirming for him to move.

“Peter- Please-“ You begged, looking up at him, a desperate and pleading look on your face. Peter didn’t waste a second, pulling back just to slam back into you, making your body scoot forward on the table before he was grabbing you and pulling you back.

You let your head fall back against the metal, hands reaching for Peter’s as he began fucking into you at a brutal pace, eyes clenched shut and lip bitten between his teeth.

“Oh Jesus-“ he breathed out. “This is so good- fucking hell you’re so tight- and warm- squeezin’ me like crazy- I’m not gonna last-“ Peter warned, gripping onto your hips so tightly you were sure he was going to leave bruises. But to you they were welcomed bruises. They’d serve as a reminder of the fun you’d had.

“Peter- do me a favor?” You asked, to which he looked down at you immediately, ready to comply with everything you said. “Don’t hold back.” You whispered between the two of you.

Something in Peter snapped and he began to fuck into you at a brutal pace now, the table squeaking with each of his powerful thrusts. He began to vibrate, something you’d soon learn he did when he was close and had a hard time controlling his powers. Something you’d learn to absolutely love.

He brought one of his hands down to your core, beginning to rub over your clit with his thumb. Just that felt amazing already but then he began to vibrate his thumb, the buzz setting your body alight as you arched into the touch, gasps and moans leaving your lips without thought.

“Peter! I didn’t- I didn’t know you could do that-“

“There's a lot about me you didn’t know. I’m sure you’ll learn soon,” he said in his stupid, flirtatious tone, never stopping his thrusts.

He began to lose his rhythm a bit, brows furrowed, silver hair sticking to his forehead as he tried to hold on. He wanted you to come first.

“Please- please come for me-“ he whispered breathlessly, applying even more pressure to your clit.

You didn’t need much more after that. His words and the buzzing sensation were more than enough to have you flying over the edge, gripping onto the sides of the table as hard as you could as you came, clenching down tightly on his dick, practically trapping him inside your warm, wet walls.

Peter thrust into you a few more times before stilling, filling the condom up so full it might burst. He leaned over your body, panting as the two of you tried to catch your breath.

“That was…” You panted, trying to find the words to even describe how absolutely magical that had been.

“Amaze-balls?” Peter finished for you, sending you into a fit of laughter as he pulled out of you, tying the condom off and throwing it into the trash.

“That’s not the word I would use, but sure. Yes Peter, it was Amaze-balls.” You scoffed, shaking your head.

Peter grinned lopsidedly at you before gathering up the clothes on the floor, handing yours off to you before he himself put his back on.

“I should get back to teaching the kids. I’ll see you later at dinner?” He asked excitedly.

Your eyes met his, absolutely beaming at you. He was adorable. Irresistible if you will.

“I’ll see you at dinner. Bye Peter.” And just like that, he left in a flash of silver, leaving you alone in your office to change and go back to reading your boring book and eating your cookie.

Amaze-balls.

#evan peters #evan peters icons #peter maximoff #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff fanfiction #xmen quicksilver #xmen #peter maximof x reader #xmen apocalypse #xmen days of future past #x men movies #quicksilver smut #quicksilver

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s8tnn · 5 months ago

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deadpool and wolverine matching icons pt.3❤️💛

like or reblog if you use these and no reposts please 💕

tap here to request

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malibuvampyr · 2 years ago

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[clawing my way out of the muck] peter

#pixel icon #pixel art #xmen apocalypse #x men movies #xmen #x men #xmen days of future past #x men days of future past #x men apocalypse #wandavision #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #marvel #marvel mcu

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justatallstick · 6 months ago

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i watched the first 2 x-men movies for the first time last night & then stayed up to binge x-men ‘97 and now i’m at work on a slow day so you’ll never guess what i’m drawing

#yeah we have a guess that movie thing on the tv sometimes and out of all these iconic movies they choose x-men days of future past #i think it’s quite silly i enjoy it. i mean hey best x-men movie #x-men #x-men 97 #my art #it’s so slow help me #rogue #gambit

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lewisvinga · 10 months ago

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roscoe’s daddy | lewis hamilton x fem! reader

summary; in which famous veterinarian, y/n, gets a world famous patient ( and his father is pretty cute himself )

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; requested !i shall write as many lewis smaus as my heart desires bc there’s a huge lack of em here 😭 and there was lowk a lack of poc vet pics on pinterest sorry bookie 😣

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by roscoelovescoco, lewishamilton, and others !

yourusername: busy day in the office but look who came in for a checkup? 💗

tagged; roscoelovescoco

roscoelovescoco: feeling’s all’s better now’s !

username: i love when grown men pretend to be their dogs on instagram

username: y’all think lewis would use roscoe’s instagram account to rizz y/n up?

username: ROSCOEEEEEE?????

username: what an icon

username: roscoe😭💗💓💞

lewishamilton: y/n is a lovely doctor and made roscoe feel at ease! i really recommend her if you’re wondering about taking your pets to her :)

yourusername: awh lewis🥹🥹 you’re too kind 💗

username: lewrizz

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by roscoelovescoco, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: mini photo dump of this past week + seeing a very special guest ( and his father ) again because someone got into a bag of chocolate ! 😁

tagged; roscoelovescoco, lewishamilton

roscoelovescoco: you’s the best’s 🐶💓 liked by yourusername !

username: i bet lewis made roscoe eat chocolate so he could see y/n again

username: what are yall on

yourbestfriend: i know you resisted the urge to call him roscoe’s daddy 🙈🙈

yourusername: I CANT STAND YOU😭😭😭

username: LMAOO NOT Y/B/F EXPOSING Y/N

username: no ur so real bc lewis IS daddy idk

lewishamilton: oh🤨

yourusername: lewishamilton look away now

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: guess i get to see my patient and his daddy all the time now, but hey! i’m definitely not complaining

tagged; lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco

lewishamilton: 😁😁😁

lewishamilton: guess i don’t have to make up excuses for roscoe to see you🤔

yourusername: knew there was a reason why you came to me saying roscoe ‘ate chocolate�� when he was magically healed otw from your house to my clinic🤔🤔

username: TOLD YALL HE WAS USING ROSCOE TO GET Y/N😭😭

username: LMAOOOO LEWIS IS SO😭😭

yourbestfriend: he’s a good man, y/n, a very good man

yourbestfriend: with money and a cute dog get that bag queen

yourusername: ??!-@;@2&:

username: no bc she’s so real, get that g wagon queen

username: lewis gonna end up w a house full of pets LMAO

username: WAIT WHATTT

username: roscoe ultimate wingman 🫡🫡🫡

username: imagine going to work only to see ur future bf there OOOU i should be a vet 😫

username: not only her future bf BUT LEWIS HAMILTON??

username: wait im living for this

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #f1 social media au #lewis hamilton smau #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton scenarios #lewis hamilton imagine

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caramelc0rgi · 1 month ago

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Okay, so let’s talk about Charles in X-Men: Days of Future Past. People rarely bring up the fact that he was basically an addict in that movie. For a good chunk of the film, Charles is this broken, disillusioned version of himself, and he’s using a serum to suppress his powers. Sure, the movie frames it as a way for him to walk again, but it’s way deeper than that. He’s clearly self-medicating because he can’t handle the trauma of losing his students, the school, and the people closest to him.

Think about it: he is drowning in guilt, pain, and grief. He’s lost Raven, Erik, and pretty much all the hope he built his life on. The serum becomes this physical and emotional crutch. It’s not just about walking—it’s his way of numbing the mental noise and avoiding his responsibilities as a leader. He’s literally hiding from his powers, the very thing that makes him him.

And then there’s that scene where Logan calls him out on it. He basically forces Charles to confront himself, to admit that he’s running away instead of stepping up. It’s such a raw moment because you can see that Charles doesn’t want to face what he’s done or what he’s lost. That’s the thing about addiction—it’s not just physical. It’s tied to shame, fear, and regret, and Charles is swimming in all of that.

But the wild part is, people don’t seem to talk about this side of his character. Maybe it’s because it’s uncomfortable to admit that someone as iconic and wise as Charles could fall into something so human as addiction. Or maybe the movie doesn’t push it too hard, since they need him to pull it together for the big mutant-saving mission. Either way, it’s a fascinating layer of his character that deserves more attention. Charles Xavier wasn’t just a leader—he was a flawed, vulnerable man who had to claw his way out of a dark place.

#cherik #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #x men #x men days of future past #xmen dofp #xmen dofp charles

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yangqism · 1 month ago

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eternal sunshine | a wayv series

– six men. one iconic drama. the world is captivated by their stellar performance in eternal sunshine that they cannot wait to see what the future holds for these superstars. but behind the fame, they are just like everyone else–desperate to feel what it’s like to love and to be loved, without judgment from others. torn between longing for normalcy and fear of losing everything they’ve worked for, they live in the shadows of their own desires, trapped in a cycle of longing, loneliness, and regrets. in a world where love is their greatest vulnerability, how far will they go to risk it all?

a/n. reader is afab. you can read them in no particular order, the storyline is not connected with each other. this is heavily inspired by ariana grande's eternal sunshine!!! such a fantastic album

don't wanna break up again ₊˚ෆ actor!dong sicheng x singer!reader

SYNOPSIS. love and sicheng don't complement each other. despite being aware of that fact, it doesn’t stop you from coming back again and again, even if your set-up consumes you. or, you and sicheng are in an on and off situationship because he’s afraid of commitment.

READ HERE.

we can't be friends ₊˚ෆ actor!liu yangyang x actress!reader

SYNOPSIS. yangyang is born to be a star, the kind of talent that lights up the screen. you, on the other hand, is a nepo baby who everyone believed got the lead role because of your family’s influence. he fought all these years to be the man that he is while you are still busy proving yourself to the populace. you believe you’re more than just your parents. he believes he’s less than without his fans. when your lives become intertwined, things get messy–one has never tasted consequences while the other lies awake at night, haunted by the thought of it.

READ HERE.

eternal sunshine ₊˚ෆ photojournalist!ten lee x makeup artist!reader

SYNOPSIS. everyone knows that ten is a passionate photojournalist, capturing the world’s genuine moments with his incomparable artistry that leaves viewers speechless. you, on the other hand, are sicheng’s makeup artist, who happened to be ten’s past lover. that one photograph of ten who won a prestigious award recently? that’s you. that’s you when you were still his muse, frozen in time while doing sicheng’s makeup. once inseparable, now estranged, the image reopened wounds of your messy breakup. while other people admired your radiant smile, you never had the guts to check it because it reminded you of the good times. the times when you thought he’s your eternity.

COMING SOON!

imperfect for you ₊˚ෆ golden boy!kun x director!reader

SYNOPSIS. seasoned actor, known as THE golden boy, qian kun, finds himself enchanted by the director of the series he’s starring in. now, they are on the second season and days feel daunting as his feelings start to get deeper and you keep on avoiding him, afraid to commit to someone as perfect as him

COMING SOON!

boy, bye! ₊˚ෆ actor!wong kunhang x intern!reader

SYNOPSIS. everyone on set knows that hendery is a walking red flag. from his sharp tongue to his nasty attitude, oh, everyone hates being around him. but things are a little different with you, the intern nurse the director requested from your university. while the rest of the crew fear him, you find yourself entangled with him every night, teaching you anatomy far beyond the books–making you confused as to what you guys really are.

COMING SOON!

supernatural ₊˚ෆ vampire!xiao dejun x researcher!reader

SYNOPSIS. why is dejun always nowhere to be found? because he’s afraid of human contact that is! being born a vampire, dejun has found it weird that he became famous. you know those jokes on twitter where they say dejun is, hypothetically, an alien but became famous so now he can’t go back? that’s true. but he’s not an alien, HE'S A VAMPIRE! your quiet, dungeon life is upended when the director of the series, and your friend, drags you out of your laboratory to visit her on the filming site of her on-going series. you think it’s a waste of time – until dejun appears before your eyes, and suddenly, you’re not so sure which one of you is really hiding from this world.

COMING SOON!

yangqism, 2024.

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gh0stofstarman · 26 days ago

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A Ramble about X-Men

I’m a pretty big Marvel comics fan. I’ve had a Marvel Unlimited Subscription since the pandemic and I’ve pretty much run the gamut of heroes. Avengers, Iron Man, Captain America, Captain Marvel, Ms. Marvel, Squirrel Girl, Fantastic Four, Peter Parker Spider-Man, Spider-Gwen, Miles Morales Spider-Man, Spider-Girl, Quasar, Thor, Eternals, Hawkeye, Howard the Duck, What if?, Deadpool, I could go on forever. And I can pick a run for each of these characters that I specifically clicked with a certain author and the themes they chose.

Except X-Men.

Which is ironic, because I love the X-Men shows, the characters, their major themes, their designs, their movies. Heck it’s not like I haven’t read most of Claremont’s run and beyond.

But I’ve never had a run that actually fully clicked with me, and I kinda wanted to ramble about why. No idea if this will be a series or whatever.

Chris Claremont

Admittedly I’ve never really been one to seek out every single spinoff of a series so most of my experience with the “golden age” of X-Men is with the mainline Uncanny X-Men rather than stuff like the New Mutants. I know it’s sacrilege in some circles not to go in full chronological order with the spinoff series bouncing between but I’m just not that way.

Anyways while Jack Kirby and Stan Lee created the blueprint for what would define X-Men on a fundamental level, Chris Claremont would be the author who made the heroes popular. Storm, Colossus, Wolverine, Jean Grey, Cyclops, Nightcrawler, Banshee … Sunfire, Thunderbird … okay not all of them stuck. But Claremont would write iconic stories that are beloved and I love as well such as the OG Giant Size X-Men comic, Proteus, Days of Future Past, God Loves, Man Kills, and the Dark Phoenix Saga. Stuff that truly gets to the heart of the X-Men fighting against discrimination and hate, proving they deserve a chance to live as they want.

Then that should settle it! I like Chris Claremont, then! These are the most iconic storylines that means I love the most iconic incarnation of the X-Men.

Not really.

Chris Claremont founded a lot of good ideas that would be the springboard used by other authors in years to come. But it’s not as though his stint was as brief as Lee/Kirby or Roy Thomas.

16 years.

And most of what I mentioned is spread far across the first 8.

So what about the bits in-between?

Well, if I had to describe the majority of Claremont’s writing as X-Men outside of these storylines is that it’s kinda a roulette wheel.

This was back in the day where you had to have some bonkers concepts to hook the reader in. Vampires, sci-fi tech, aliens, gods, demons, etc. And most of the time Chris chose a random one to analyze the X-Men under and reevaluate how they can be used for the X-Men’s explicit purpose of fighting against discrimination and promoting equality and diversity.

Which often leads to those aforementioned storylines where they build on this very well. X-Men vs Televangelism does go out into creating weird devices to mind control people but it’s all in service to the team’s message. The bad future the sentinels create in Days of Future Past can easily be seen as a dystopian future where discrimination is normalized.

However sometimes Chris can’t help himself and adds more layers of insanity to the plot, to the point the message kinda gets lost in the mix.

Here’s an example.

X-Men go mysteriously missing, only for Beast to find them working at a circus freak show. Interesting. Leads back to the idea of them being demoralized and treated as freaks rather than real people.

Beast does some snooping around, finding that Magneto is the mastermind behind this. Perhaps he’s trying to humiliate the X-Men and get them to give up their hope for equality seeing how humanity makes fun of them while also getting revenge because he’s the bad guy.

They fight Magneto but are bested in combat. It’s then revealed that Magneto, after being turned into a baby in a previous comic did want revenge, so he took the X-Men to his Antarctic base to … mentally regress them into babies and torture them with a nanny bot.

Huh?

And I’d be lying if I said this sort of weird progression isn’t a repeating theme.

X-Men go to space to fight aliens; makes sense because all the other heroes were fighting aliens so they gotta prove they’re on the level. Alien fighting leads into them meeting Xenomorph-like aliens that slowly transform the X-Men into them; drama is created. X-Men escape but still are transforming, so Storm befriends a space whale and then becomes one to cure everyone; buh?!?!

Like I feel like some of these stories increase the insanity progressively but they go a little step too far. Sometimes it’s just out of nowhere like when demons kidnap the X-Men even though they were never hinted before to care about them, and somehow age up Magik to an adult. Or just Storm becomes a vampire suddenly even though last issue there was nothing even slightly referencing vampires.

It’s kind of a curse because X-Men is constantly trying to get bigger and bigger under Claremont but sometimes you’d prefer it just to take it slow and get back to the more straight forward connections to fighting oppression and discrimination.

Ironically it causes me to appreciate the more mundane moments that aren’t trying to be huge plot twists one on top of each other. Stuff like Kitty Pryde and Storm hanging out, going to Japan and getting to know Wolverine better, Nightcrawler trying to socialize more, and just Beast’s witty banter.

But even that can be a little fumbled at times because well,

Chris Claremont is a straight white guy.

And there’s nothing wrong with that at all. But you can tell he has hang-ups trying to write about race or women because he doesn’t really have those experiences. Therefore, sometimes when he tries to write soliloquies and romances (which is pretty common), sometimes it can fall flat because of his perspective.

There is a lot of romance and relationship drama in X-Men, which is understandable and needed for the narrative. But so much becomes either bland, unintentionally problematic, or just too brief to make any true impact.

I’d say the biggest exception is Jean/Cyclops because they’ve been established for years and it’s very clear they care about each other. However, Jean dies in Dark Phoenix (at least that was the intent of the time) so a lot of the time the series bounces between other couples.

He later meets and then marries Madelyne Pryor, who is noted to look nearly identical to Jean. However that just makes things awkward as Madelyne often plays the role of “Not-Jean.” It at least has an interesting through line of him working through his grief, but little time is actually given for Madelyne’s own agency to break out of “Not-Jean,” which makes it really awkward when it’s revealed she’s a clone of Jean and Jean was alive all this time. So … what was the point?

Charles Xavier has so many love interests but often times he comes off as a jerk. Moira MacTaggart, Liliandra … even at one point Jean herself but everyone buries this for good reason. He comes off as very manipulative both to his partner and the X-Men. Charles is very unsympathetic to Moira’s predicament in raising Proteus. Liliandra he’s willing to bend over backwards for even if it means that he’s breaking his own morals in the process. And we don’t talk about Jean. However this would mostly be used by other authors to analyze how good of a leader Charles is, and more of his flaws. Meanwhile, Chris Claremont normalizes his behavior and rarely calls him out on it.

Colossus and Kitty Pryde.

What can I say about them? Colossus is an adult, Kitty Pryde is still a kid. It’s gross, but Chris wants you to really know they love each other more than a brother-and-sister relationship would. And they even point out it’s creepy, yet they still do it anyways.

Wolverine is entirely a whole other can of worms that I could write about separately.

Ironically some of the relationships that aren’t confirmed because of the times but are implied like Mystique and Destiny or Storm and Stevie are actually a lot better and written with much more nuance. However again nothing is confirmed and could be left to interpretation such as with Storm and Stevie. After all they do try to pair up these characters in straight couples … problematically but still.

Ultimately I feel like Claremont does have a lot of good ideas but the execution of them is where the ball is dropped. I would never call his run bad but I’ve never really felt compelled to return to it. I can’t deny the impact it’s made by any measure. However, returning to the originals just makes you wonder, how did some of this lead to Claremont’s X-Men being held up as an absolute gold standard comic?

I don’t know this was a long rant and I dunno if I’ll do it again. If you liked this let me know

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kc-writes-sometimes · 4 months ago

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Crown and Kin | Chapter Eight

Ao3 Account | Masterlist

Chapter Eight: Revelations

(Daemon’s POV)

Word Count: 3,513

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Daemon navigates the growing complexities of fatherhood and his place in the ever-changing Red Keep. The delicate balance between duty and personal desire becomes clear as old alliances and hidden truths come to light. Daella, now embraced as a Targaryen, faces a new chapter in her life, while Daemon finds himself torn between his past and the responsibilities that come with his newfound role.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

↞ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ↠

Daemon Targaryen

“Is it not bedtime for you too?" Daella asked, her head tilted in confusion as she gazed up at Daemon, her violet eyes reflecting the dim light of the chamber.

Daemon smiled faintly, catching the quizzical look on her young face. There was something about the innocence of a child’s question that had the power to pierce through the world’s weight. “Not for me,” he replied, his voice firm yet laced with the warmth that had grown in him since Daella entered his life. “I have business outside the Keep. You’ll be fine, little one. A guard will be stationed right outside the door if you need anything. Now, get some rest.”

She continued to stare up at him with wide eyes, still unsure, as if sensing there was more to his late-night departure. Daemon hesitated for a brief moment, feeling the tug of something unfamiliar: the urge to stay. It gnawed at him, but duty—an old, familiar companion—called louder.

He leaned over and tucked a strand of dark silver hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her warm skin. She didn’t flinch away, her trust in him already unspoken and complete. He stood back up, his towering figure momentarily casting a shadow over the oversized bed before he turned toward the door. The heavy wooden frame creaked as he closed it, but his hand lingered on the handle for a moment longer than necessary. His mind was awash in thoughts of her—no longer just a bastard girl from Flea Bottom, but his daughter. His blood.

They had been sharing his childhood chambers ever since Daella’s arrival at the Red Keep. It had been his idea to keep her close—he told himself it was simply for convenience, but the truth ran deeper. He found comfort in her presence, watching over her as she slept, the rise and fall of her little form under thick blankets a reminder of how fragile and important she had become to him. It was an unfamiliar feeling, this quiet protectiveness, but it had rooted itself firmly in him.

Fatherhood had a way of creeping up on even the most untamed of men. Daemon, known for his reckless abandon and disregard for attachments, now found himself caring for this little girl more than he had ever anticipated. She had become the single tether in a life that had long been untethered.

These chambers had always been his refuge from the swirling politics of the Red Keep, a place he had once found solace. Now, they served as a barrier from the growing Hightower influence. Every day, the Keep felt less like the seat of Targaryen power and more like a fortress of the Faith. Alicent’s grip on Viserys—and the Keep itself—was tightening, and despite Otto’s removal, her presence had only grown stronger. The Faith of the Seven had crept into every corner, displacing the symbols of Old Valyria. The walls, once adorned with dragons, were slowly being overtaken by depictions of the Seven’s icons. It was as if the very soul of the Red Keep was being eroded.

Daemon clenched his fists as he made his way through the corridors. His boots struck the cold stone floor with sharp, measured steps, each echo a reminder of the battle that was being fought within the Keep’s walls—a battle without swords or blood, but one that was just as dangerous. The few servants still awake lowered their heads as he passed, avoiding eye contact with the Rogue Prince, their wariness a reflection of his simmering temper.

Once outside, the cool night air hit his face, offering a momentary reprieve from the tension knotted in his chest. He inhaled deeply, letting the crisp breeze fill his lungs. For a moment, he stood still, gazing up at the moon as it hung high over King’s Landing, casting long shadows across the sleeping city. The streets below, though quieter at this hour, still thrummed with life—merchants peddling their last wares of the day, shadowy figures slinking through alleys, the distant clang of the harbour.

He tightened his cloak around him as he moved through the streets, his silver hair hidden beneath the black hood. To most, he was just another shadow slipping through the night, but to those who recognized him, his presence was unmistakable. His reputation preceded him—the Rogue Prince, the Lord of Flea Bottom. Names earned through years of rebellion, of pushing against the chains of authority that tried to bind him.

But there was something different about him now. His steps were no less purposeful, but the fire that had always driven him was tempered by something new. He was no longer just a man acting on his own whims; he had a daughter, a child who was both his responsibility and his legacy.

Daella.

Her name repeated itself in his mind, a steady rhythm that beat in time with his footsteps. The thought of her stirred emotions he had long buried. Fatherhood was not something he had ever sought out. He had lived his life without attachments, without ties to anyone or anything. But now, everything had shifted. She was his, and that simple fact had rearranged the very fabric of his life.

The familiar streets of Silk soon came into view, the tension in his body winding tighter as he neared his destination. He had not felt this particular brand of tension in some time. Mysaria awaited him—the White Worm. She had been many things to him over the years: lover, confidant, spy. Her network of whispers had proven invaluable more times than he cared to count, but lately, something had changed. There was a distance between them now, a suspicion that had begun to fester ever since Daella’s presence had been made known to him. Had Mysaria known? Had she kept the secret from him all these years?

Daemon’s thoughts burned with the question as he neared her compound. The White Worm had always known more than she revealed, her words laced with riddles and half-truths. But now, with Daella in his life, the stakes were higher. If Mysaria had known about Daella—had hidden it from him—there would be a reckoning.

As he approached the dimly lit entrance to her chambers, the guards at the door said nothing as he passed, their silence expected. They had seen him come and go too many times to question his presence.

Inside, the familiar scent of incense and spice greeted him, a mixture that clung to the air, heavy and intoxicating. Mysaria’s chambers were draped in silk, the flickering light of candles casting long shadows across the room. She was there, waiting for him, draped in her customary white, her pale face framed by the soft glow of the candles.

"Daemon," she purred, her Lysene accent curling seductively around his name. She reclined on a low couch, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "You’ve come late tonight. What is it you seek from me?"

Daemon’s gaze was sharp, his patience worn thin. "You know why I’m here."

Her smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—in her eyes. "There are many things I know, Prince. You’ll need to be more specific."

Daemon moved faster than she anticipated, his hand shooting out to grip her throat, pulling her close with a force that left no room for games. "Don’t play games with me, Mysaria," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Did you know about Daella? Did you know I had a daughter?"

The tension in the room thickened, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. Mysaria didn’t flinch, her dark eyes holding his without fear, though his grip tightened around her throat. "I knew there was a girl," she rasped, her voice just above a whisper. "But I did not know she was yours. Not at first."

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, his fingers pressing harder against her neck. "You’re lying."

"I’m not," she whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. "I didn’t know her parentage until recently."

With a sharp shove, Daemon released her, sending her sprawling back onto the cushions. He paced the room, his mind racing with the implications of her words. How many people had known the truth before him? How had it been hidden for so long?

Mysaria rubbed her throat, her eyes flickering with irritation, though her voice remained calm. "Daella was hidden well. Elyse kept her secret, and I only pieced it together when she was dead."

"Elyse," Daemon muttered, the name cutting through the air like a blade. "What did you know about her?"

Mysaria’s expression flickered, a brief moment of hesitation crossing her face before it vanished. "Elyse… was more than she appeared," she said slowly, her words carefully measured. "‘Elyse’ wasn’t even her real name. That was just the name she adopted when she came to King’s Landing."

Daemon’s brow furrowed, confusion tightening his features. "Then who was she?"

Mysaria sighed, leaning back into the cushions with a faraway look in her eyes. "I don’t know. She was secretive about her past. Our bond wasn’t built on trust, Daemon—it was born out of survival." Her fingers smoothed the silk of her dress absently before she turned her gaze back to him. "Did she ever tell you where she was from?"

"She said she was born in Dorne," Daemon answered, his voice tight, controlled. "A bastard. That’s all she told me."

A faint, knowing smile touched Mysaria’s lips, her eyes gleaming with something unspoken. "Dorne? No, but close. She was born in Volantis. And she wasn’t just any Volantene bastard, Daemon."

Daemon’s hand instinctively moved to the hilt of Dark Sister, his pulse quickening. "What are you implying?"

Mysaria’s tone softened, her voice more thoughtful now. "Did you never wonder why her hair and eyes were so… familiar? Did her manner never strike you as peculiar? The way she always had silver coins for the City Watch?" Her eyes watched him closely, as if trying to read his every reaction. "Both you and your brother saw something in her."

Daemon’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. Elyse had always been a mystery, a puzzle he never bothered to solve. She had been beautiful, and he had enjoyed their time together, but she hadn’t mattered to him beyond that. Until now. Now, she was the mother of his child—his legacy.

"What are you saying?" he demanded, his voice low, though the question was more for himself than Mysaria.

"She was more than a simple woman from Volantis," Mysaria continued, her gaze never leaving his. "I don’t know the full story, but there were whispers that she had connections to families of influence"

"Enough, Mysaria!" Daemon barked, his voice filled with frustration as he resumed pacing, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The flickering candlelight cast jagged shadows on the walls, mirroring the chaos in his mind. "I don’t have time for your riddles. Speak plainly!"

Mysaria’s eyes followed him, her expression calm but unyielding. "Elyse wasn’t a common whore, Daemon," she said, her voice steady as she leaned back, watching his every move. "There were whispers before she started dying her hair—whispers that she was of Valyrian blood."

Daemon froze, the weight of her words settling over him like a heavy cloak. How had he not seen it? The dark silver hair, the striking purple eyes—traits Daella now bore. He should have known. Perhaps, on some level, he did. Perhaps he just didn’t care. After all, one silver-haired whore was as good as another in King’s Landing.

His fists clenched at his sides, his anger surging through him like wildfire. "Why didn’t she tell me any of this?" he muttered, more to himself than to Mysaria. "Why keep Daella from me?"

Mysaria tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes softening just a touch. "I can’t answer that for certain, but perhaps she feared what it would mean for Daella—for you. Perhaps Elyse thought it best to keep Daella hidden, to raise her as a child should be raised, away from the prying eyes of the court. She didn’t want Daella used as a pawn."

Daemon let out a bitter laugh, though the sound was devoid of humour. "And look where that got her. Dead. And Daella? A scared, lonely child living in the squalor of a brothel, so terrified that when the maid washed the dye out of her hair she nearly ripped her own hair out." His voice grew harsher, the bitterness seeping into every word. "You could have told me this sooner. You could have done something! You could have let me help her."

Mysaria’s eyes hardened at his accusation. "And what would you have done, Daemon? Elyse feared what your involvement would bring. She didn’t want Daella to live in the shadow of your name. She didn’t want her past or yours to devour the child."

Daemon spun toward her, his eyes blazing with anger. "I could’ve saved her!" His voice broke, just for a moment. "I could’ve kept Elyse alive."

Mysaria held his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the weight of the secrets she had kept. "Would it have changed anything, Daemon?" she asked quietly, her tone almost regretful. "Elyse made her choices."

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his fury simmering beneath the surface. Elyse’s secrets—the ones Mysaria had revealed and the ones that had died with her—no longer mattered. What mattered now was Daella. His daughter.

"Daella is my daughter," Daemon muttered fiercely, his voice low but resolute. "Whatever blood runs through her veins doesn’t change that."

Mysaria’s expression softened once more, her familiar tone slipping back into place. "Be careful, Daemon. The past has a way of catching up to all of us."

Daemon stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "If you’ve kept anything else from me, anything at all, you won’t live long enough to regret it."

Mysaria met his gaze, the tension between them taut as a drawn bowstring. "I’ve told you what I know," she said evenly, her tone calm yet unyielding.

For a long moment, Daemon’s eyes lingered on hers, the weight of unspoken threats thick in the air. But he said nothing more. With one final, cold glance, he turned and stormed out of her chambers, the door slamming shut behind him. As he passed through the familiar streets, Mysaria’s compound fading into the distance, Daemon felt the weight of his life shifting. He had been the Rogue Prince for so long—untethered, wild, a force unto himself. But now, he was something more.

He was a father. A protector. A force to be reckoned with, not just for himself but for Daella. His daughter. His future.

By the time Daemon reached the Red Keep, the sun had already begun its slow rise over the city. The early morning light cast long shadows across the courtyard, and servants bustled about, preparing for the day. But Daemon moved through them with a newfound sense of purpose. Nothing—not the past, not the whispers, not even the enemies lurking in the shadows—would take Daella from him.

He could picture her now, awake and preparing for her first lesson. He had arranged for the Maester to begin teaching her High Valyrian, as every true Targaryen should learn. Soon, she would know how to read, how to write, how to stitch and play music. She would learn the history of their house, the names of the great lords, and the powers they wielded. And one day, when the time came, he would teach her to ride a dragon and hold a sword, just as he did.

As Daemon walked through the gardens, heading toward his chambers, he spotted Rhaenyra in her usual spot beneath the weirwood tree. She sat with a heavy tome in her lap, her brow furrowed in concentration.

His footsteps were almost silent as he approached, though Rhaenyra, sharp as ever, glanced up from her book. Her violet eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharp as it landed on him.

"Back so soon, uncle?" Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the quiet of the Godswood, her tone laced with sarcasm, though beneath it was a softer edge, almost teasing.

Daemon smirked, but didn’t respond immediately. His eyes lingered on her, taking in the way the morning light caught in her hair, making it gleam like molten silver. Even in the simplicity of the Godswood, she looked regal, carrying herself with a natural majesty that both captivated and irritated him. She reminded him too much of himself.

"I had business to attend to," he finally replied, his voice neutral, though there was an unmistakable edge to it. A subtle tension simmered beneath his words, one she hadn’t heard before. "Not that it’s any concern of yours."

Rhaenyra closed the book resting on her lap, setting it aside gently as she met his gaze, her eyes sharp, searching. She could read him too well, sensing the storm beneath his calm exterior. "And what business was so pressing that it kept you out all night?" Her voice was light, but her eyes—hard, inquisitive—demanded answers.

Daemon’s lips curled into a sly grin. "You know me, Rhaenyra. I don’t answer to anyone."

"Not even my father?" she shot back, her tone sharpening like a blade. "Or is it just me you feel the need to play games with?"

The tension between them, simmering for so long, flared like fire meeting oil. Daemon’s smirk faded, his expression darkening as he stepped closer, looming over her. She remained seated under the weirwood, regal and unmoved, but his presence was undeniable.

"Viserys has always been weak," Daemon said, his voice low, heated. "And you—"

"What about me?" Rhaenyra interrupted, rising to her feet, her book forgotten as she faced him. "Do you think me weak, uncle?"

For a moment, the Godswood fell silent, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Daemon’s eyes flashed with something unspoken—longing, regret, or perhaps both. He had always been drawn to her, admiring her fire, her defiance. Yet the distance between them had grown wider, especially since that night in the city.

"You’re far from weak," Daemon said at last, his voice softer now, though the roughness remained. "But you’re playing a dangerous game, Rhaenyra. One you’re not ready for."

Rhaenyra scoffed, her eyes blazing with defiance. "And you think you know everything, don't you? You think you can decide what I'm ready for?" She stepped closer, her chin tilted upward, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—hurt, frustration. "Do you think I didn’t know what I was doing that night?"

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his gaze locking with hers. "You were a girl playing at being a woman, Rhaenyra. You didn’t understand what you were stepping into."

Rhaenyra’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I understood more than you give me credit for," she shot back, her voice trembling slightly, though she stood firm. "You didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted to see your world. I wanted to be free."

"Free?" Daemon echoed, his voice a low growl, almost a sneer. "You’ll never be free, Rhaenyra. Not as long as you’re tied to the Iron Throne."

"And neither will you," she snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "You may pretend you don't care—that you're some rogue prince who doesn’t need the throne—but I see you, Daemon. You're just as trapped as the rest of us."

Daemon’s eyes flickered with something dark, something dangerous, as he stepped closer. His voice dropped, almost a whisper. "Perhaps," he admitted, "but I know how to bend the rules when it suits me."

Rhaenyra held her ground, her breath quickening as he loomed over her. She could feel the heat of his body, the scent of smoke and leather clinging to him. For a brief, reckless moment, Rhaenyra reached out, brushing her fingers against his chest, her touch light, almost daring. Daemon’s hand shot up, catching her wrist in a firm yet controlled grip. His eyes bore into hers, a smirk tugging at his lips once again.

"You shouldn’t provoke me, niece," he whispered, his voice rough, filled with a challenge that sent a shiver down her spine.

Rhaenyra’s lips parted, her defiance wavering as the fire between them burned hotter. "And what will you do if I do?" she asked, her voice barely a breath.

Daemon’s grip on her wrist tightened, just enough to remind her of his strength. He leaned in ever so slightly, their faces mere inches apart. His breath was warm against her skin, his presence overwhelming, and the tension between them reached its breaking point.

"Father?"

The voice was small, hesitant, cutting through the charged moment like a splash of cold water. Daemon turned sharply, releasing Rhaenyra’s wrist as he looked toward the source.

Daella stood a few feet away, her violet eyes wide with confusion as they flicked between Daemon and Rhaenyra. Her dark silver hair cascaded around her shoulders, and she seemed so small, so innocent, standing there in the soft light of the Godswood.

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