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misguidedasgardian · 9 months

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Storm's End 2

HOTD Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Strong!Reader

Summary: your mother sends you to Storm’s End to rally Lord Borros Baratheon for your side, but your uncle arrived there before you

Warnings: Cursing, use of the word bastard, angst, heavy, canon level incest, thoughts about dying, mentions of bedding, and more, dark fic, Aemond is unhinged, rape, non-con, minors engaging in sexual activities, mentions of a minor in a pleasure house, maiming, blood, violence, victim blaming, self blame, and other very dark things.

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4,7 k

Notes: Ufff It seems I can’t do one shots anymore, I think this required another third part because I didn’t want to make it so long.

They say that when you are dying, all your life passes right through your eyes, making you relive all those moments, and the way you felt

Now you are able to say, that it wasn’t that accurate

Because all you could see was HIM

His head on your lap while you read to him in High Valyrian under the heart tree

You turning to him with a smile on your face the first time Karnax obeyed your command, the way he smiled back

The time you grabbed his hand and patted Karnax’s snout making him purr

But suddenly you were that frightened little girl in that tunnel in Driftmark

“no! stop it!”, you screeched, as Aemond had your older brother grabbed by his vest and he held a rock in his hand

“stop it!”, you begged him again, he threw his hand back to gain momentum and he hit you in the face with the rock

You wailed and cried, your face burning, a warm liquid filling your mouth with a metallic taste, blood pouring from your nose

Because of you your brother grabbed the knife, to avenge you, because of you baby Lucerys jumped at Aemond and slashed his eye off of his face

Soon you were not the only one crying bitterly

Soon some gloved, adult hands grabbed you and lifted you from the ground and took you to a maester

Soon you were seated across from Aemond, as the maester sewed his missing eye shut, his remaining eye didn’t leave your face, his mouth twisted in a dark mock

He didn't even blinked, he barely reacted when the needle pierced his skin over and over

While you only got a bloody nose.

Deeper into the night, after the maester sneaked you a bit of milk of the poppy, you woke up when you could no longer breathe, feeling a weight over your chest, when you opened your eyes the first thing you saw was Aemond’s scowl, the slash on his face still bright red.

“Aemond?”, you called, then he took a knife off his belt, you screeched but he placed his hand in your throat, “what’s happening?”, you cried, “I want my mom”

“Why was I the only one who lost something?”, he asked bitterly, “the only one scarred”

“You have Vhagar”, you whined

“I didn't stole her”, he clarified

“I know”, you said

“perhaps I should scar you too”

“You mom scarred mine”, you whined, a tear falling down your cheek, “please don’t”, you cried

Aemond looked down at you, you didn’t know what he was thinking, you only stood still, afraid. Your uncle seemed to ponder about something, thinking, analyzing, and then , with the hand that hold the dagger, he grabbed the covers and retired them, you were sleeping only in your loose nightshirt,

You were eight and he was ten, he grabbed the dagger, you were so scared you didn’t even move, you only cried and whined when he carved an “A” into your thigh

“Now you are scarred like me”, he said with an even voice, and an uneven stare, looking down at you like he was bored.

Even though you thought the Red Keep was your home, you were so relieved when your mom told all of you that you were going to live in Dragonstone from now on. You were now scared of your own uncle, of your friend, and therefore you managed to conceal your mark, never showing it to your parents

The next part of your memories were only a few weeks back, when you return for the first time to the Red Keep, to defend your own right to inherit Driftmark

You were lucky you were the only one that looked like a Targaryen

But Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s words still hurt

As he screamed bastard and whore to the entire court, you couldn’t help but look up at your uncle, feeling his gaze on you.

And before that in the training yard

That is when the uneasiness began, his gaze on you, that same smirk, like he was mocking you, and Jace, you were barely a year younger than your brother, he was only a year younger and yet, it seemed like Aemond was ages your senior, in abilities, in knowledge, in maturity, in everything

Perhaps that is why he was so amused

He seemed to mock you, to pity you, to be amused of how much of your childhood you still carried with you

You hugged yourself as Vaemond cursed you and your mother, and you felt his gaze on you the entire time

But then Daemon slayed Vaemond in front of all of you, Jacey, before you could see anything, he grabbed you and hid your face on his chest, to prevent you from looking at your now dead great uncle

Soon the impression on Aemond passed, as he watched in anger that bastard touching you, protecting you

He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else other than him.

That’s why he asked his mother, to ask Rhaenyra for your hand that very afternoon, right before the dinner

You couldn’t even eat, not with his gaze on you, you kept looking up at him, as he drank you in your black leather dress at the same time he drank from his cup. He didn’t not even for a second, let his gaze off of you.

You mother saw this, and grabbed your arm gently, and whispered to you what he wanted, that he asked for your hand

When your face twisted in fear and anguish, your mother’s changed to that of concern, then you both looked at Aemond across the table, and he could see in your faces, what the answer was going to be.

So fueled by anger and resentment, he stood from his chair and toasted to the health of his Strong nephews, and he looked directly at you when he said this.

“To the health of my nephews and sweet niece, my the gods keep them handsome, wise and Strong, she will need her strength, to bear my children after we are married”, he said with a smirk, and the entire table shared concerned looks

“WHAT?”, growled Daemon, looking at Rhaenyra

Whole hell broke loose

You tried to stop Jace, but he wouldn’t hear of it, he went for Aemond to defend your honor and he pushed him away like he was a doll

“Stop it!”, You begged him, after helping Jace on his feet you put yourself in between them Aemond walked towards you and grabbed you by the neck, he didn’t squeeze, he didn’t choke you, but you could see the anger in his eye

“You think you have a choice?”, he whispered to you, “I think you should see the scar in your leg to remind yourself of who you belong to”, But a leather hand grabbed Aemond’s arm roughly, you looked to the side and there was Daemon

“Get your hands off my daughter”, he whispered dangerously, and in the background, you could hear everyone screaming in desperation, specially Alicent

You were already crying, but he released you, smiling wickedly.

He had a face to face with Daemon, who put you behind him to protect you

“Over my dead body you will marry her”, he promised, Aemond only looked at you, and then he exited the room

Your mother send you home with your siblings that very night, scared of her own brother

And then as you took to the skies in the night you were suddenly transported to the last time you saw him

Aemond standing in front of you,

You were still in Storm’s End Hall, but there was no one else besides the both of you, you were alone. You wanted to speak, but couldn’t

“My beautiful, bastard, niece”, his words made you wince

You didn't know why you were here, is this what it was like to die? it felt like you were dreaming

“Why?”, you whispered, he tilted his head, amused, “Why do you hate me so much?”, you manage to ask, “I never did anything to you”

“I don’t hate you”, he said simply, “I’m just treating you like you deserve to be treated”, you frowned, “you are just a bastard, mine to toy with, mine to torment”

“Nobody deserves to be treated like that”, you fought, “is not my fault”, you whined, he only smirked, with a smooth movement he retrieved from inside his leather vest the dagge

“You are nothing, only the bastard daughter of a pretender who will never be Queen, strutting around the keep, with your bastard siblings”, a tear fell down your eye

“Is not my fault”, you cried, you believed him, a sadness taking a grip on you, you gasped for air as an inexplicable sorrow took a hold on you, “is not my fault!”, you cried, soon you couldn’t breath, you felt someone had a tight grip on your throat, you couldn’t breathe

You gasped for air, but something was preventing you from taking the oxygen you needed, you dried heaved, until you managed to throw up

Your body convulsed trying to expel the water from within your lungs, you tossed and turned until you finally manage to turn in the sand and threw up the salt water from within you

That is how you came to your senses again, disoriented, feeling sick, and clouded, and cold

So so cold

“So cold”, your voice sounded like a broken bagpipe, you tried to grab onto something, but your hand grabbed rocks and sand, you could barely see around you, it was all dark, it was late, and it was cold

You were soon aware that you were back in the land of the living, if you were dead, you wouldn't be in pain, you wouldn’t be so aware of your numb extremities, from the cold, the adrenaline, and the fact that you felt like you had been ran over by a herd of horses

You took your time to gather your bearings, to take deep breaths and expel the salty taste from your mouth, so sharp it clouded your mind even more

For some reason, even the stranger had forgotten you

once you managed to regain the mobility of your arms and legs, you turned around

“Karnax?”, you called, as you whimpered, feeling your loss in your chest, making it tight and hurt, as memories of the last moments coming back to you

“KARNAX?”, you called desperately, but you knew it was of no use, your dragon had been ripped apart by Vhagar, and it was a miracle that you were still alive

Then you stopped, maybe shouting and drawing attention back to you, wasn’t the brightest of ideas. But as you looked into the stormy sea, bitter tears fell down your eyes

Your baby dragon was gone, the one who had been with you since you were born.

You couldn’t stand on your own legs, you tried to, but failed.

You shivered, and tried to hug yourself

it was some miracle that the waves and current had dragged you to a small piece of beach with dark sands, rather than the rockery all around you

But you soon realize it wasn’t a miracle

You saw something, someone moved in your peripheral view, and you got a feeling…

Aemond walked towards you slowly

It had stopped raining but he was still wet as you were, his wet silvery locks stuck to the edges of his face and his clothes, all leather, protected him from the rain, he had taken off his eyepatch, and the sapphire gleamed even in the dark

You haven't yet recovered the feeling to your legs, but scared out of your mind you tried to crawl back, away from him. he smiled, wickedly, as he walked towards you

“Get away from me!”, you whined, but he stopped on your leg meanly, preventing you from advancing away from him. He only hummed, entertained

He looked like a creature that had come from the bottom of the ocean, front he pits of hell, he had resurfaced just to drag you back with him. He had come from your deepest nightmares

He leaned down towards you, you tried to fight him off, but he wouldn’t budge, he grabbed you tightly, roughly, tears fell down your eyes when he dragged you to him in a wicked embrace

“NO!”, you screamed squirming, trying to get away from him, “Why would you do that?”, you cried, bitter tears that burned your cheeks fell down your eyes, “My Karmax, my dragon, he was gentle, fair tempered, he never hurt anyone! He was good! Why did you do this? HE LOVED YOU AS HE DID ME! YOU KILLED HIM!”, you screamed, desperately fighting against him, to release yourself from his grasp

“He was weak and small, so are you”, he mocked in your ear

“WHO CARES ABOUT THAT?”, you felt physical pain in your chest, “he was my soulmate”, he manhandled you until he was face to face with you, he grabbed your jaw forcefully

“You have other things to worry about”, he growled, and you whimpered in his hold, trying to get away from him, but still you couldn’t, he was stronger than you, and you were completely destroyed

“please”, you whimpered, “you killed my dragon…”, his eye darkened even more, his expression was now the one of a man enraged

“Don’t you dare to even think we are even”, he growled, he then smirked darkly, “but after this we might”

The night was awfully calm, strangely so, and it was ridiculous you would think about something like that in a moment like this, but here you were

Because you knew what was about to happen

You only cried when Aemond threw you on the sandy floor, the hit numbing you partially, more than you were already. Aemond looked down at you for the very first time, in all this years, you saw him smile, he didn't smirk, he smiled widely, openly, you could see his teeth

“Please”, you begged him, to just leave you alone

“I love it when you beg”, he ceremoniously removed his long leather jacket, and left it gently on the floor

“I never did anything to you”, you whined, tears kept falling from your eyes and he finally jumped you, like a lion to his prey.

You tried to fight him off but you were so tired, so drained of all your energy, you couldn’t

You whined against him, but he didn't care, he never did, why would he do now?

He took the dagger off his belt, and for a fraction of a second you felt relieved, he was going to slice your neck and be done with it, but no, he sliced your riding pants instead, you tried to kick him, but barely moved him.

He got tired of your antics and grabbed you by the neck roughly

You whined and trashed, but he wouldn’t let go, soon the inability to breathe make you dizzy, losing the little strength you had left

“Please Uncle”, you managed to let out, cheeks wetted with your tears, the salty air making your skin burn

But he wouldn’t let go, he looked down a you with a sick satisfaction that make you whimper once more, as you were bare from the waist down

You never had high expectations regarding your first time with a man, you had heard from the Septas that it was your duty as a wife to please your husband in that matter, they had also said that it won’t be pleasant, that pleasure is not something you must seek

That the act of bedding was only to produce heirs

But with your sibling, Jace in particular, you had seen and read things, fueled by your curiosity, and you found out that it was quite pleasurable, for people that worked in the skin trade anyways…

You knew you had no expectations, but still

You never expected this

He undid his pants, releasing his manhood, it was big, thick, long, the tip red and angry, and even looking at it make you cry even more

“No please”, you managed to say, Aemond could see you were running out of air, so he released you just a little

He needed you conscious

“Please don’t do this, please”, you begged and begged, and he rebelled in it, he placed himself between your thighs, making you hurt

But the worst part was yet to come

“Why wouldn’t I?”, he mocked

While he still had you by the neck, the other went between your legs, yout thighs shook when you felt him, trying to introduce one of his fingers, it was uncomfortable, and it burned

You were dry

And he seemed to enjoy it

“Noooo”, you babbled, as you started hiccuping because of your distress, he only hummed. Pleased, with the situation, with you, or whatever

He fisted his cock only a couple of times, and gave you no reprieve.

He give you no space to move, no space to escape,

You shrieked in pain, the burn felt like nothing you had experienced before, you cried out as he ripped you open for him

“No! it burns, please”, you begged, “it hurts!”, you cried, you scream bloody murder

“Fuck”, he cursed, a sick smile on his lips

“Why?”, you cried, tears falling, whimpers being drawn, “Why?”, he paid no mind to you, only retrieved yourself and you almost thought that he was going to free you from this torment

Only for him to thrust into you even more roughly than before

You shrieked, as Aemond looked down for when your bodies were united and smiled when he saw the blood pouring from you. But he almost caught a glimpse of the mark he had drawn in your skin all those years ago.

“Now you are just a whore”, he said, satisfied with himself, again thrusting into you, “do you think Cregan Stark will want you now?”, he mocked

He kept fucking you, raping you, and the only thing in your mind to distract you from the pain was… why? Why did he hate you so much? if your dreams were to give you any clarity… which you doubted

“I’m sorry uncle”, you whispered, as he retrieved himself from you and then pushed again inside you, making you cry out

“I don’t care”

“I’m sorry”, you repeated again, and then again, like a mantra while he defiled you, while he took you against your will in that beach

“Come on, come for me, like the little wanting whore I know you are”, but you were far from it, you were still in pain, and your body reacted accordingly, trying to soothe you, lubricating itself to help you cope. He found your clit, pinching it and rubbing it roughly, too rough to be pleasurable, but it still helped.

Your head fell to the side, looking at the waves, so far yet so close, you wanted to get lost in them, as the rough sway of Aemond against you, you saw the waves coming and going with almost the same speed.

Until he grabbed your jaw and make you look back at him

The unhinged look in his eye, his growls and gasps

You grabbed the wrist of the hand that had you by the neck and you looked into his eyes, almost defiantly, and what you found in them scared you even more

You felt him deep in your belly, your insides were on fire you wanted to throw up, but the salty taste of all the sea water you drank was still present, giving you no reprieved

“Please stop”, you begged one more time, “please uncle, it hurts”

“Shh”, he only shushed you, he leaned in and kissed you, for the very first time, ever

His wet lips were a welcoming distraction, but not even in the kiss you felt relief, feeling only dread, desperation and anger

He bit on your lower lip, apparently the blood of your maidenhead wasn’t enough, he needed to taste it in his mouth too

You thought it was never going to end

Until finally his movements became sloppy, his eye rolled and he grabbed your neck even tighter

You felt him, deep inside you, ropes of his seed filling your womb

You cried even harder, moving more than before

He stood planted deep inside you for endless minutes, looking down at you, analyzing your face, and every expression on it, you only cried softly, your body tight with pain and trauma.

“i have to make sure it takes”, he mocked, and your shrieked shortly, “I told you I was going to give you my bastard”

You looked away from him, barely imagining how it was going to be like to bring shame to the family in that way.

Weak

You had let him do this to you

If only you were stronger

He finally released you, you whispered one more time when he took himself off of you

You felt a thick substance leaking off of you, and you could only imagine what it was

Aemond stood up, as he fixed his pants, you barely could roll to the side, hugging yourself, to look at the waves

You felt dizzy, nauseous, in pain and cold

And if you had something in your stomach you would have throw it out

But you didn’t

You felt his gaze on you again, you tried to ignore him, thinking faintly on how you are going to survive this, how you were going to go back home

To your family

They were going to love you no matter what, you knew this, and if Aemond tried to say the opposite, you were not going to believe him

Aemond didn't move, he only looked at you, the soft, musty wind hit your face, making you whimper in cold, but still, you laid there, unmovable, you could feel him moving, placing his jacket back on him, taking his time, and yet, you didn't move. Then he leaned in, and you tried to squirm away, but he grabbed you easily

“You either come with me, or I leave you here”, he whispered in your ear, you didn't move, you just stayed there, laying in the sand, he came into your frame, as you stared down at the beach. You were not an idiot, if he left you here, it is probable you were not going to make it, you were far away from everything, you had no dragon, another storm was coming

But going with him is unthinkable

Yet you didn't move

You saw his boots walking away from you, and then, they stopped

He looked back at you

You were stubborn

“Your Grace”, greeted the woman shakily, bowing to the Queen. Rhaenyra had unshed tears in her eyes

Daemon barely managed to get her out of her chambers. They had no news of you, and that is what scared them, they assumed the worse

“You are Lady Alyne Felwood, are you not?”, she asked, she did not mind to present herself like this, she hasn't brushed her hair, she hadn't even bathed, she wasn’t wearing her crown, still crying in front of that woman, a woman whose family was of the Stormlands, sworn to House Baratheon

“I am, indeed”

“Are you not sworn to House Baratheon?”, spitted Daemon by her side, looking as imposing now that his sweet wife couldn’t

“I was”, you whispered, “I was a part of the court of House Baratheon, and I was there that day when…”, Rhanyra’s gaze that had been on the table looked up at her, alarmed

“You were there?”, she asked, tears falling freely, the lady barely nodded

“I was”, she whispered, she looked within herself, to tell the tale as softest as she could, she did not want to bring her more pain, “I was there when the princess entered the Hall, unfortunately, Prince Aemond…”, she stopped to see their reaction, Daemon grabbed the pommel of his sword tightly, and Rhanyra whimpered, “had been there for hours when she arrived”

“It was him?”, she asked, Alyne barely nodded

“She made her case to Lord Borros, but one-eye had already made his own, offering his own, or his brother’s Daeron’s hand in marriage”, she said, “Lord Borros mocked the princess when she had nothing of the sort to offer him, and that is when…”, she paused, she might lose her head for this, in a “kill the messenger” situation, but she came her for a reason, “Aemond interrupted”

“What was said?”, asked Daemon impatiently, tired of the pauses

“He said that her brother had a debt to pay, that he wanted her to pay instead”

“What debt?”, she asked

“He said that he wanted a payment of blood”

“He slayed her…?”, cried Rhaenyra, but the lady shook her head

“He said he was going to take her maidenhead, and send you their sheets with her blood in it”, Rhaenyra whimpered, grabbing onto the painted table, “he tried to go to her but lord Borros intervened, he commanded her to be taken back to her dragon, she exited hastily, but so did he…”

“He demanded her maidenhead? And they let him go after her?”, she cried

“The guards on the battlements told Lord Borros that they have heard shouting, laughs and screams, and… a shriek of a Dragon”, Rhaenyra covered her mouth in an attempt to swallow her cries

“my little girl”, she cried, and Daemon hugged her tightly, hiding her face on his chest

“Why?”, asked Daemon, angry at this woman, who brought Rhaenyra sordid details about that day

“I’m a mother to a girl too”, she whispered

Then she was dismissed

“My girl!”, Rhaenyra cried, when they were alone, “my little girl”

“Shhh, my love, we will get her back, whatever it takes”

Taglist!

@lightdragonrayne @immyowndefender @aemondswifeisme @twobluejeans @toodlesxcuddles @sassysaxsolo @thearchitectoflove @maidmerrymint @floralsightings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @glendarollitkatharinesanders @ruhjkie @starkjedi @baconturtle

#misguidedhotd #misguidedhouse #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #targaryen!reader #house targaryen #hbo house of the dragon #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction

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wh0s-vesper · 6 months

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Head canons on each Gwendoline Christie Characters

(NSFW AND SFW)

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Captain Phasma

- She’s a lover(sometimes.) Since the girls a captain, she’ll have barely time to ever do anything romantic with you.

- If she gets the chance, she’ll eat you out. As in ‘eat you out’ like there’s no tomorrow. So be prepared to get overstimulated, cuz your girl is going to get pussy drunk.

-Phasma’s a hard dom, convince me otherwise.

-Phasma would love you, totally. But when she does, it’s not like ‘pda’ kind of love. She’ll much rather write letters in her holopad on how she appreciates your existence.

-You can’t tell me that Phasma doesn’t have master/daddy kink. I MEAN LOOK AT HER.

——————————————————————

Lady Jane Murdstone

OUR GIRL DOESNT GET ENOUGH CREDIT, SHE DID AMAZING IN THE TEN MINUTES SHE GOT ON SCREEN.

-Missma’am would devour your cunt. She’ll get power drunk, pussy drunk, probably drunk herself.

-Mistress kink, obviously.

-Woman likes to tease you occasionally, depends on her mood of the day. If she does tease you, Jane would subtly touch your waist and squeeze it, surprising you.

-I’m guessing that she has knife play or likes it rough, cuz for the love of god, Jane can’t go by a day without hitting, destructing, or destroying something.

-Her hands are highly skilled. At anything, from sewing to fucking your cunt, she is a master(or mistress) at the skill. And at times, she’ll even brag about it.

-Janes LOADED. Jewels, designer dresses, the works. She’ll spend at least a few hundred dollars on you(maybe a thousand even) on one shopping trip.

——————————————————————

Jan Stevens

-This is going to be ironic(and debatable ig) but Jan doesn’t like food a lot, especially in her bed. The most she could do/want/tolerate is wine and like a charcuterie board in bed.

-Role playing, girl wants to be someone else for a bit. Being Jan Stevens is hard yk.

-Hugs, cuddles, kisses, the works. She loves it when you do that, especially the thing where you kiss her neck cuz she’s too tall for you to kiss on the lips.

-Honestly, she’s a switch. She’s giving mommy/mistress energy, but at the same time our girl needs a break from being the leader so bratty/needy bottom Jan it is.

-The needy move. OML, I can’t tell you enough on how she’ll act needy(borderline bratty) just for you to end up in bed.

-Jan is a freak in bed. If she’s a freak at her job, she’ll bring that energy to the bed. (In a good way, obv)

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Larissa Weems

-Woman is afraid of germs. Or in other words a germaphobe. I mean, the gloves, the way she’s always kept to herself. It explains somewhat a part of her personality.

-Larissa is rich. Like rich, rich. I’m guessing that she was an only child and her parents died, leaving her with the big-ass fortune.

-Speaking of rich, Larissa is very stingy about her money, only spending it on her lover. So when you eye a necklace or bracelet, she’ll by ten.

- Mirror sex kink. I mean a mirror as her ceiling? It’s gotta count for something. Also adds a bit of spice to her sex life.

-Girls a cuddler. She loves a hug or two just to simply know that someone’s cares for her. Every once in a while she’ll ask or you’ll just simply give it to her.

-Larissa likes PDA, but to a certain level. She’s not like a full on make out session anywhere, but more like a few kisses here or there throughout the day.

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Brienne of Tarth

-Gentle giant. Brienne will act all mean and tough, but the moment she goes home and you greet her. The facade basically melts away.

-Okay, this will be debatable, but she’s a switch. At times Brienne will be a hard dom if she comes home from a rough day, or a soft dom when she wants a bit of sensual warmth. On the other hand, she’s a bottom, literally what she wants is to be loved and cared for.

-Briennes protective. It’s sort of her nature, but to her lover, it’s on a whole new level

-She loves all cuddles, every physical touch/interaction that you have with her, Brienne cherishes it. Bed cuddles, bath cuddles, morning cuddles, you name it. Also I think Brienne will sometimes switch to small spoon when she has a rough day, but otherwise she’s a big spoon.

- Woman will teach you on how to defend yourself, but never actually let you touch or use the weapons. Brienne wants to do the protecting since she thinks that only a knight could do that.(ofc she would only say that to her lover)

-Brienne doesn’t like quickies, she prefers to take her time with you. But if you seem to really want it, then she’ll do it.

#larissa x you #larissa weems #gwen is mommy #gwendoline christie #gwendoline is mommy #gwendolineuniverse #headcanon #jane #jane murdstone #larissa x reader #larissa x y/n #captain phasma x reader #captain phasma #jan stevens #Jan #head canons #head canon #mommy k!nk

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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months

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The End.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Synopsis: Kafka always sits in the front row, despite being part of the show herself.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, thoughts of violence, manipulation, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Breezeblocks by alt-J

Waltz No. 2 by Dmitri Shostakovich (feat. The Dixie String Quartet)

Swan Lake by HAUSER

Claus by Los Tres

Doin’ Time by Lana Del Ray

Lie by BTS

She’s My Collar by Gorillaz (feat. Kali Uchis)

Cha Cha by Freddie Dredd

Michelle by Sir Chloe

MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name) - SATAN’S EXTENDED VERSION by Lil Nas X

*~*~*~*

The roses are wilting.

It was destiny, fate. Such pretty things never last forever, after all, even if the entire universe wished otherwise. One way or another, they are meant to fall, like how the sun drops below where anyone can see it, being replaced with the moon, and vice versa. They fall deep, deeper than hell itself, and no one can pick them back up, unless one would be inclined to make a pact with the devil himself, doing horrendous things in his name. But Kafka has already committed such sins, so why deny doing so any longer? It is who she is. It is who you are, to be entangled in her lies and be forced to dance and to sing and to act.

With two gloved hands, she picks up the vase, spilling out the moldy water and the dying roses, the roses she got for you after you sang so well at the opera house, looking so beautiful, into the trash can underneath your makeup vanity, where little clumps of hair and emptied products always meet their end.

She’ll get you a new bouquet later. A new vase too. Perhaps instead of white roses you would like red ones instead? Kafka knows that this vase is cheap too, from one of your fellow divas, whose high notes are not as high as yours and her costumes not as elaborate or as elegant as yours.

“I honestly don’t see why you even try to befriend any of them, darling. They are all envious harpies. They can’t hold a candle to anything you do.”

You are not here, but Kafka’s mouth always has a mind of its own, so it spins lies even when your delicate, lovely ears are not in the general vicinity. Not that she minds it. But yours is what she is quite more so than trifles with, because yours is carefully controlled by her and her alone, and you, as always, don’t get a say. It’s a sort of hypocrisy, Kafka thinks, but she doesn't mind that either.

If she has to, she’ll even sew your mouth shut, your ears shut, your eyes shut, if that is what it takes for you to stay with her. She doubts it would ever come to that, though, because you are always too fragile and too trusting to tell the difference between an Iago and a Desdemona. But the latter role would much better suit you, her little flower, her princess.

You are so precious, but also a treasure prying eyes will always want to touch and see and hear. Kafka would, in all honesty, love to cut their hands and tongues off, if it did not ruin the carefully crafted image she made just for you. Maybe later, though, when all the stage lights are off.

“Lady Macbeth, hmm?” She murmurs.

She disagrees with the role you were given entirely. But, you were not one to stand up for yourself, so Kafka let it go.

“You really ought to leave this business soon, dearest.” Kafka looks around, her arms crossed, not impressed with the room you were given in the slightest. “You can always just come with me.” She meant it. “Imagine all the sights you would see. All the food you would eat. All the gifts I would be so happy to give you. All the hugs and kisses you would receive from me. Everything… just think about it.”

She could imagine it herself. It is not hard, really, for the mind to reject all sense of logic and bow down to the whim of what is known as human emotions, mortal joys, woes, desires, wants, and needs. She could imagine sitting you on her lap as the ship jumps to the next world she will have to visit, telling you stories of the past, present, and future, as you look on with amazement. You don’t do that anymore, now. She would do anything to see it come back. She would steal a crown and place it on your head, though you having the genuine article does not make you any stronger. If anything, perhaps it would make you weaker to her whims.

“Imagine that…” She sighs, closing her eyes as she smiles. “We can go to Penacony. Your dreams would come true there if I cannot make them true myself. You can sleep on beds worth more than this entire opera house. If only you would let me. I know it would make you happy. I know it would make me happy. So why wouldn’t it make you?”

She would listen to your ultimate pains, and your ultimate wishes, and act accordingly. She loved you. You will too, again. It is only a matter of time, isn’t it? Yes, Kafka thinks, it is fate.

…

Kafka always sits in the front row of the theater.

It does not matter whether or not she purchased the tickets for it, the seat, or the show soon to come to fruition. No one dares talk back to her, even security. She finds comfort in that. No one gets in the way of her having the chance to see you. Better yet, no one else sits in the front row when she is present.

So, she watches, one of her legs crossed over the other, her eyes never blinking. During interludes she likes to adjust her makeup accordingly, painting on another shade of crimson to her lips. Art comes in many forms, after all.

Kafka told you that once. As always, you listened dutifully as she taught you to be.

She taught you many things, not just that. She taught you how to read constellations. She helped you learn her vocabulary in the books she gave you, often long fairytales or poems. She preferred it that way when you used to be so eager to have someone be friendly to you and not want to simply use you for their own amusement, not wanting to throw you out of the opera house altogether.

The opera house may rot after it goes up in flames, in the future, if things go her way as it always does, but she’ll stay to watch it all, to take you in as you cry and as she shushes you. She’ll be happy. Maybe you will be too, for her. It matters how good your performance is, if you even want to act anymore, after all.

The lights dim, and she shows her pearl-white teeth as she grins.

#author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #kafka x reader #yandere kafka x reader #yandere kafka #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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sashi-ya · 1 year

Text

🌸 ▹𝙱𝚢𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚢𝚊'𝚜 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚒 𝙱𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝙲𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝐇𝐂𝐬: 𝐁𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

▹ headcanons of our sweet noble being a dad. tw: well, pregnancy of course. careful a little spoiler, if you don't know who Ichika is, then just ignore this, please. sfw. these are simple headcanons, the way I imagine Byakuya be with a baby and based on how Kubo addressed he acts with and towards Ichika ▹ wc: 800

Byakuya would like to have just one child. Is not he is not interested in having a million with you, but, he knows that he wants to give that baby all the love and attention as possible, and sharing isn’t an option. At least during the first years of the baby’s life.

He would, for the love of God we all know he would, ask for his servants to craft the exact replicas of his own attire in baby size. From kenseikan (which you will have to remind him that babies have no long hair), a mini gimpaku (mint green, of course) to tiny, tiny white gloves embroidered with the Kuchiki clan symbol.

Speaking of the Kuchiki clan emblem, everything in the baby’s trousseau will have it on. White, pure cotton, hypoallergenic, as expensive as ten manors. You told him it isn’t necessary, but you know it’s futile. Nobody deserves the best than his own family, and he will give you even more.

You will wake up one day, and you will see your son/daughter dressed in some kind of green blorb attire; yes, Byakuya design an onesie with Wakame Ambassador for his baby. No, you aren’t taking it away. Yes, he will hire a photographer to make a special photography session with his descendant dressed in that. A photo he will put in his own office next to an Ichika one he took one day when they were training with their Zanpakuto. Cause proud uncle, always.

And Wakame Ambassador will be present everywhere too. From plushies, the first one personally sewed and embroidered by him. The baby, carrying the Kuchiki blood, will obviously cling to it for dear life. And you couldn’t ask for more, seeing baby and dad sleeping on your bed with the plushie in between them? Yes please, someone draw it.

He won’t be an absent nor cold father. Contrary to what many people might think, Byakuya is a person who really takes time to be with his family. Same as he attends the many events and reunions when his sister isn’t able to attend, he will be there for his baby. Since the Quincy invasion, he has changed for the better, and the moment his dark sky eyes meet his newborn’s he will melt, to the point of showing the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen drawn in his lips.

Byakuya will lift his baby in arms, with utmost care and pure delicacy. He would look, inspect every corner of his own blood, and then snuggle the baby in his arms. The moment he feels the chubby cheeks of his newborn against his chest, it will mark the start of the most pure bond nobody will dare to break nor even threat. He will swear -in silence- that will protect his descendant with everything it takes.

The noble will try to train his kid since baby, but he won’t be able to be really strict. Same as happened with Ichika, his child will become his weakness. Some times you will have to scold him for letting the kid do whatever he wants with him. Byakuya looks like a cold one, but in reality he would count the hours all throughout the working day to go back to you and his baby. He wants to play, to laugh with you two… he might not tell you, and probably he will never do, but with him words aren’t necessary.

Then, when the baby becomes old enough to attend the academy (cause of course the next head of the Kuchiki clan is not only strong as hell, but also has inherited dad’s sense of service, responsibility and novelty) there will be some weeks of pure chaos. “NO, HE WILL BE HOME-SCHOOLED!” Byakuya will shout. “Honey, he needs to make friends. I know you’ve been home-schooled, but, don’t you think he/she/they deserves to experience the academy, make new friends and perhaps even found a lover?” the last part was just to tease him, but, after so many nights discussing (and perhaps so many kisses to convince him) he gives up. His baby is gonna attend the Shinigami academy, and he wouldn’t be more proud of everything his son/daughter does.

Oh, and speaking of which… he will pick up, personally, his little bundle of joy. Some people will feel a little intimidated that the sixth captain of the Gotei 13 is there with his cold stare and his golden noble things, but he is gonna become an active member of the organization just to make the academy an even better place for his child. (And also, because he has met the joy of gossiping with other parents while waiting for his child to get out of class)

Byakuya will be the happiest man in the world. The proudest father. His baby, his weakness and also his strength. His genes will run stronger in the kid, and, some afternoons you will be happy to see through the window at both battling with wooden swords, with smiles on their faces and a happy ending with no end for a soul who suffered so much… 💖

#byakuya kuchiki x reader #kuchiki byakuya x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya kuchiki imagine #byakuya x you #kuchiki byakuya #byakuya kuchiki x you #kuchiki byakuya x you #byakuya #kuchiki byakuya imagine #byakuya kuchiki #bleach #bleach headcanons #bleach imagines #bleach byakuya #sashi ya #byakuya smut #bleach x reader

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witchwyfe · 1 year

Text

pinterest bf - rc

pairing - (non canon) Rafe Cameron x female reader

précis - you help rafe personalize his gear

content/warnings - BASEBALL rafe, college au, college baseball player rafe, mentions of sewing needles, cursing, the word “bloody”

word count - 598

“Rafael.” You greet your boyfriend, strolling into his room.

One of his teammates let you in after you knocked, because your precious boyfriend apparently can’t even be bothered to answer his phone after he invited you over.

“Oh, hey honey,” He smiles at you, watching you set your bag down, before looking back at the project in his lap.

You see a needle and thread in one hand, and his baseball glove in the other.

“Rafe.” You say, staring right at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

His cheeks flare, the flush crawling up the back of his neck as he ducks his head. He mumbles something, chin to chest, the words falling to his lap.

“Can’t hear you babe.” You say, narrowing your eyes.

“I’m stitching your initials into my glove.” He says like it’s a no-brainer.

“You’re doing what now?” You wonder, heat flushing on your own cheeks as you kneel beside him on his bed.

“Your initials. I want them in my glove.”

And for a second you’re wondering if Rafe somehow got a hold of your Pinterest board, the one with the heart emojis as the title, but this is something you haven’t seen, much less saved before.

“Oh, you sap.” You blurt, before you can even process what you’re saying.

He rolls his eyes, a smug smile playing on his lips. “You love it.”

“Hm-mm,” You hum in affirmation, climbing into his lap. “S’ cute. You’re cute.” You add softly, leaning into him.

He pushes the needle into the material again, cursing under his breath when it doesn’t do what he wants it to do.

“God damn it,” He swears. “Kelce said it was easy, and I watched the tutorial on YouTube like ten times.” He huffs.

“That’s so cute,” You gush. “If you needed help though, you should’ve asked, you idiot.”

“Do you know how to sew?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Exactly.” He retorts. “Plus, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Okay, well it’s not anymore.” You sass. “So how about we figure this out together?” His eyes soften at your words, and he pulls you all the way into his lap with a grunt, spreading his legs so that you can settle comfortably in between them.

“Pull up the tutorial.” You nudge him, reaching for the sewing needle in his hand. You notice the thread he chose is your favorite color and you look at him.

“Aw, you remembered my favorite color?” You tease, lightly pushing your elbow into his abdomen.

He scoffs. “Of course, I remember your favorite color babe, what kind of boyfriend do you think I am?”

The kind that has a page in his Notes app with all of your favorite things in a bulleted list. The kind that brings you flowers specifically in your favorite color, and blushes when you thank him for them. The kind who brings you your favorite coffee multiple times a week.

“You’re alright, I guess.” You say flippantly, teasing him. He pinches your side, evoking a squeal from you.

“Stop!” You giggle. “Just show me the video.”

And that’s how you and Rafe sit for the next hour—you’re not great at sewing either—him holding the video up so you can see, and you threading your own initials into the thick material.

Later Rafe lets you wrap his bloody fingertips in Disney Princess Band-Aids and press delicate kisses to each one.

And at his next game, he presses a kiss to his fingertip and then runs it over the embroidered initials before he walks out onto the field.

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe writing #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks fanfiction #tw blood #non canon rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader

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godlizzza · 4 months

Note

Holiday prompt: maybe danbert first New Years as a couple?

Herbert felt an arm settle around his shoulders, then Dan's voice was in his ear a moment later.

"Hey, Herbert," Dan said, voice a hushed, excited whisper.

Herbert, who was in the process of rinsing the blood off of his gloved hands at the sink, didn't look up from the red water swirling down the drain. "Yes, Dan?"

"It's gonna be the new year in about-" He paused, presumably to check the clock on the wall. "-Thirty seconds."

"How thrilling," Herbert drawled.

Their shift at the hospital had been especially trying that night, what with all the groups of rambunctious people getting drunk in anticipation of the clock striking midnight. So far, Herbert had already had to extract a sizeable piece of glass from a man's foot, sew up a gash on a woman's head after she'd drunkenly toppled over in her high heels, and had administered about seventeen banana drips. He couldn't wait to hang up his coat in a few hours and let Dan drive them home.

"Glad you agree," Dan replied, squeezing Herbert's shoulder. He was unnaturally chipper for their current situation. "I was worried you wouldn't finish with that patient until after midnight."

Herbert was offended Dan thought so little of him that it would take him more than a few minutes to sew up some sutures on a foot. Behind them, it seemed the entire hospital, staff and patients alike, began to count down from ten.

"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!"

"And why would that matter?" Herbert asked, turning to frown at Dan's smiling face.

"Six! Five! Four!"

"Because," Dan said softly, reaching up to tug Herbert's surgical mask down beneath his chin, "then I couldn't do this."

"Three! Two! One!"

Dan closed his eyes, leaned forward, and planted a kiss on Herbert's mouth.

"Happy new year!"

Herbert blinked as Dan kissed him, his hands still held aloft and covered with blood. Dan pulled back and grinned at what was surely Herbert's befuddled expression. He pulled Herbert's mask back up into place and released him, stepping back.

"Here's to 1987!" Dan said cheerily, then, with a last parting look of fondness, turned on his heel and sauntered away.

Herbert blinked after him, only snapping out of his stupor when the sink shut off. He hurriedly finished washing his hands and stripped the gloves off. He tossed them in the trash and tried to remember where he was supposed to go next.

It was the first minute of 1987 and Dan was already messing with his head.

#danbert #dan cain #herbert west #re-animator #reanimator #my fics #asks #writing prompt #i know its like a day or 2 late but we're all still in that new year hype so here we go

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queen-of-deans-booty · 2 months

Text

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: Lucifer x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: relationship angst, giving the silent treatment, fluff at the end

Request by anon: I wanted to ask for spn lucifer x reader…they are married she would have been a hunter in the past, but she left the business with him, "giving up" on being the devil, and they actually like live normal life…once she gives him the silent treatment because he was "mean" to sam and dean (they are like brothers), and he just He does little things to kind of get her off her chest so she can talk to him (even if it's shouting), and when she tries to do or fix the little things he did/ or broken but without talking to him yet he just goes to the guys (the brothers, cass and jack) for help and apologizes just to make it up to her!!! (the boys make fun of him but he accepts defeat because not talking to her is worse than having people irritate him

Summary: Your passion is sewing and you love to make clothes and blankets for people, especially the Winchesters whom you consider to be family. When you overhear a conversation you shouldn't have heard, you get pissed enough at Lucifer to give him the silent treatment. Best thing? He has no idea what he's done but he'll try hard to make it right.

Square Filled: never go to bed on an argument for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Three down only ten more to go. You have a lot of people who want to buy dresses from you so you’re slowly making your way through the list of orders from people. You’re only on the first order but you’ve gotten done three of the thirteen items they wanted. Sewing and making clothes and blankets is your dream. You love making things people can wear or snuggle with, and you’ve always had this passion ever since you could write.

You’d draw your designs and show your mom who was also a seamstress for a clothing store. She entertained your ideas and gave you a small sewing kit that you’d use to make your Barbie’s clothes. She was so impressed that she got you into sewing classes as soon as possible. You started off making small things like gloves, oven mitts, baby clothes, and other easy projects before working your way up to the harder items.

Now, you have your own business that is run by you and only you, and you work out of your home. You don’t have the money to buy a big store or hire employees. Plus, you kind of like doing it all by yourself. At least you can look at someone wearing your clothes and say, “Yes, I made that all on my own.” or “They’re wearing an original Y/N.”. You pour love and pride into every piece you make and it shows.

The door opens and your husband walks in with a look of confusion.

“Have you been here all day?”

You look at him like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“I have orders to make.”

“Being in your room all day isn’t going to help you. You need to get out and move around.” You know he’s right, and your ass is hurting from sitting all day. You nod in agreement and get up, setting your project aside for now. “Come on, let’s go on a walk.”

Never did you think you’d ever go on a brisk walk with the actual devil. The neighborhood you live in is very mellow so you go a few laps around it.

“Want to hear what I’m working on?”

“Sure.”

“So, Janice across the street asked for baby clothes for her daughter’s kid, Bruce and David want some slacks for David’s new job next month, and Ruby from the diner wants a blanket. Ooh! What if I make us another blanket?”

“Darling, we have eighty blankets in the house already.”

“And?”

“We have enough,” Lucifer laughs and kisses the top of your head.

Who is he and what has he done with your husband? He is so not the man you met years ago. He was so much harder and meaner than he is now. After Sam killed Lilith and brought the devil out of the cage, he was one of the meanest men you’ve ever met. His behavior and attitude were atrocious.

It didn’t get any better even after Sam let him in so he could trap him in the cage with Adam and Michael. The cage stayed closed for five years until Amara was released because Dean got his Mark removed from his arm by the Book of the Damned. Lucifer convinced Castiel that he could possess him so that he could leave the cage, and he wreaked havoc on the world because of it. After Amara expelled him from Castiel’s body, he disappeared for a while. He decided that he was going to be done with all this shit.

That’s when you came back into his life. He met you again after he had come to terms with living a simple life. Sam and Dean had pissed you off enough that you wanted to be solo for a while, and you and Lucifer formed a relationship. The Winchesters weren't thrilled to hear you had a thing for the devil, but they trusted you enough to know what you were doing.

You had scammed your way into a very nice resort where he was staying and hit it off. Eventually, you got married to him. You’re not a hunter anymore, he’s not the devil anymore, it’s just you and him until death parts you. Lucifer’s changed behavior is all because of you. Before you, he was angry at the world for what his dad did to him but after you, he wanted to live for you and for you only.

Only after you’ve finished with all of your commissions, you start working on some stuff for the Winchesters. Winter is coming up, and the Bunker has a terrible heating system. You figured they could use a few extra jackets, shirts, and blankets.

They gave you a key to the Bunker should you ever need to use it, so you let yourself in carrying the clothes. Sam and Dean are talking to someone in the library so they don’t notice you coming down the metal staircase in the war room. Suddenly, Lucifer’s voice is heard, and you look at the entryway in confusion. Why is he here? What does he want from the brothers?

“I can’t trust you to do anything! You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!”

“Maybe next time give us better instruction,” Dean argues.

“God, you had one job and you managed to fuck that up. Typical,” he scoffs.

Why is he being so mean to Sam and Dean? You’re hurt he’d say such vile and mean things to the two men you consider family. You leave the clothes on one of the control panels before leaving the Bunker quickly. You don’t let them know you were ever here. If Lucifer wants to resort to who he was before, then he can but you’re not going to stand by him.

Lucifer comes home hours later in a good mood. You’re in the kitchen cooking food for yourself when he enters. He frowns when he sees enough food for one person in the pan.

“Is that food for both of us?” he asks. You don’t answer him and continue to cook in silence. “Y/N?” Still, no answer. “Darling, are you okay?” No answer. “Are you ignoring me? What did I do?” Again, no answer. “Y/N?”

You don’t go to bed that night because you and Lucifer have a thing where you never go to bed on an argument. Instead, you make more clothes. Lucifer didn’t go to bed either mostly because he kept thinking about why you’re ignoring him. What did he do to piss you off? In the morning, he goes to the room where you make your clothes to try and talk to you but finds the door is locked.

“Y/N, open the door.” No answer. He can hear your sewing machine so he knows you’re in there. “Come on, darling, open the door.”

He is at a loss for words because he doesn’t understand what he did to make you like this. He gives you the space you need for the morning, but you need food eventually so you leave the room in search of some. Lucifer is in the kitchen when you get there but you make no move to acknowledge him.

Lucifer is drinking some water and reading a newspaper. He finishes the water before dropping the glass on the ground. The glass shatters and he watches your reaction to it. He doesn’t care if all you’re going to do is yell at him. He just wants you to do something. You pause and look at the glass on the ground before grabbing the broom. You don’t say a word as you clean it up and throw it away.

“I just broke a glass! You should be pissed at me. Yell at me! Something!” Lucifer gasps. Again, you don’t respond to him. “Fuck!” He walks over to you and points his finger in your face but doesn’t actually touch you. He knows you fucking hate this which is why he’s doing it. He’s such a fucking child. “I’m not touching you. You can’t get mad at me because I’m not touching you.”

You stand still and wait for him to be done before moving around him and heading back to your room to sew. Lucifer doesn't know what to do so he visits the Winchesters in search of answers. Castiel and Jack are in the room, too. Great, more people to witness this humiliation.

“Here to berate us some more?” Dean asks.

“I need your help,” he sighs.

“What?”

“I said I need your help.”

Before Sam can answer, Dean cuts in.

“Sorry, let me just take in this moment. You need us. Isn’t that something?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“No, I definitely will.”

“What do you need?” Sam asks.

“Y/N isn’t talking to me. She’s ignoring me and I have no idea what I did to piss her off. What do I do? I don’t care if she yells at me. I need her to do something.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there, buddy,” Dean shrugs.

“Does she know you’re an ass?” Castiel asks seriously.

“Yeah, let’s make fun of me. Seriously, you’re so funny.” Lucifer mocks laughs in their faces, ready to punch the shit out of them. “What do I do?”

“Have you tried apologizing?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know what I should be apologizing for.”

“It doesn’t matter. All women want to hear is that you’re sorry. Try that. It might get her talking,” Dean sighs.

Lucifer goes home with more questions than answers. Still, he thinks about their words the whole way home. When he gets there, you’re in the living room watching one of your shows. As soon as you know he’s there, you tense and turn the volume up on the TV. He walks around to face you but you don’t look at him.

“Darling, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” you ask and look at him.

Lucifer opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. You scoff as you get up from the couch. You go to leave the room but Lucifer is hot on your heels.

“I am sorry, but you can’t expect me to read your mind to figure out why you’re so pissed at me. You have to communicate, darling. What did I do?”

“You berated Sam and Dean and put them down for what? ‘You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!’ Does that ring a bell? You treat them like shit.��

“I’ve said worse things to them.” You cross your arms angrily. “Look, I am sorry. I have a really bad temper, and I was trying to surprise you with something. I needed their help getting it but they did it wrong. It pissed me off because I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“What is it?”

Lucifer takes you to one of the unfinished rooms in the house. You never got around to actually finishing it, but Lucifer has been working on it without you knowing. You walk in and gasp at what you see. Machines are lined up on the back wall, rolls and rolls of fabric hang off tubes, mannequins are in the other corner, and everything else you need to have a successful sewing business.

“I wanted it to be perfect and I took it out on them. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You rush into the room and admire everything he’s done for you. He’s trying to apologize but you’re too busy being excited.

“Is this all for me?!”

“Yeah, everything,” he smiles. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!!”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Not talking to you was killing me.”

Lucifer pulls you into him and kisses you, glad to have overcome this with you.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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jimblejamblewritings · 1 year

Text

The Dragon Heir | part 1.

Summary: What happens when King Viserys' only current heir is a choice between his twin daughters? The realm will not accept a woman but you have no care for what the realm thinks it won't accept.

Warnings: it's the game of thrones realm, and obviously incest comes with the Targaryen package but it still deserves a second warning

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x black!reader, Daemon Targaryen x targaryen!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: It is a reader but you have a name to fit in with the world.

“As the first century of the Targaryen dynasty came to a close, the health of the Old King, Jaehaerys, was failing. In those days, House Targaryen stood at the height of its strength with ten adult dragons under its yoke. No power could stand against it. King Jaehaerys reigned over nearly sixty years of peace and prosperity.”

You rolled your eyes at the history lesson that you had already heard a thousand times before. Biting your tongue, you looked over at your sister, Rhaenyra, and made a face. She tried her hardest not to laugh. The two of you faced your cousin once again to finish the dreadfully boring lesson.

“But tragedy claimed both of Jaeherys’ sons, leaving his succession in doubt. So, in the year one hundred and one, the Old King called the Great Council to choose an heir. Over a thousand lords made the journey to Harrenhal. Fourteen succession claims were heard but only two were considered. Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the King’s eldest descendant, and her younger cousin. Prince Viserys Targaryen, the King’s eldest male descendant.”

“Yes, yes,” Rhaenyra said as she began to stand up. She wanted to leave and ride her dragon. “And in the end they picked our father over you, Princess Rhaenys. We have heard this story plenty times before. What does it matter?”

“It matters because history is going to repeat itself.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mother is having a son. The entire castle is sure of it. Rhaenyra and I have always known where we stand. There is no point in this.”

“Do you think he’ll look like you, Laelara?” Rhaenyra asked as she put on her other riding glove.

Despite being twins, you and Rhaenyra looked nothing alike. Your mother came from a family like the Velaryons, tan and brown and black skin crowned in white hair. Rhaenyra looked exactly like your father while you were a carbon copy image of your mother.

You shrugged at your sister’s question. “The only thing’s for certain is his white hair. Rhaenyra, come back on time for dinner. And don’t go out this Friday, you know there’s a festival happening. And visit mother before anything else.”

Your sister nodded before walking away. You decided to go back to your chambers and change. While Rhaenyra was the wild one, you were more calm. You didn’t even have a dragon. You sat at your father’s council meetings and walked through the streets of King’s Landing and read in the Godswoods. Quiet was how you had always been.

You left the courtyard after seeing Rhaenyra off on her flight. There might have been nice weather but everyone was running around preparing for the festivities. Being outside with all that noise wasn’t quite ideal. You decided to be inside for the day.

Your father wouldn’t mind you using his throne room as refuge. He never cared if you sat on the Iron Throne and used the swords as a bookstand for your reading as long as you cleaned up before he held court. But you didn’t want to read today. Perhaps some sewing would be nice.

You were surprised to find the throne room occupied. Your uncle barely turned his head, nodding slightly when he saw you. You eyed him up and down.

“What are you doing here?”

“Where’s your sister and Lady Alicent. Aren’t you three joined at the hip?”

“One has gone riding and the other has duties. What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Laelara.”

“Hello, Daemon. What a—”

“Yes, what am I doing here, please keep asking that question. I was admiring the chair. It could be mine one day.”

“Father seems to be sure it’s a boy.”

“Ah but we won’t know until the child comes.”

“Do you even want the chair?” you asked him in High Valyrian. “You haven't come to court in ages.”

"Well, court is boring. I heard your father is holding a festival in my honor."

"The festival is for his heir."

“Who we don’t know is a boy yet, correct?” Daemon chuckled when you bit your tongue because he was right. “You should tell me that boy or not, your mother still has many chances to produce an heir.”

“Well, it’s not the same if I say it now.”

Daemon came down from the chair. “Give it a year or two, you’ll be quicker at the mouth. Maybe even surpass my sharpness. Maybe. I brought you and your sister something.”

He held up two necklaces. They held the same design, metal flowers with a jewel in the middle. The jewels were different. One in red and the other in yellow. You reached for the yellow one, admiring it.

“Do you know what they’re made out of?”

“Valyrian steel. Like Dark Sister,” you referenced Daemon’s sword.

He lifted the necklaces just out of reach. “Turn around.”

You let Daemon put the yellow necklace on you, handing you the other one to give to Rhaenyra when she came back. He seemed proud to give you the jewelry, claiming now you and your sister had a piece of ancestry as well. The necklace was the first bit of Valyrian steel you ever owned. Daemon made a promise — one you didn’t quite believe — to not cause any trouble before the festival.

The dress you picked was not quite right for a festival. You realized that as you picked at the long sleeves while watching your uncle in his jousting tournament. You should have picked something with short sleeves. At least your sister and your friend seemed to be enjoying themselves. Rhaenyra and Alicent both gave Daemon a wish of luck for his next match. You rolled your eyes, sinking into your seat.

Everything but the match brought you interest. If only your mother was here. But it was her due day, part of the reason the festivities were even happening. She was giving birth to your newest sibling and hopefully heir. Your parents had tried too many times to have a child. Every single one being stillborn or dying quickly. It was time for a miracle. Your attention was easily stolen by other things, including the Grand Maester talking to your father.

Your eyes squinted in curiosity as the two men walked away. A happy conclusion entered your mind. There was no way your father was going to have precious alone time with your new baby brother. You wouldn’t let him know peace if he hogged your sibling all to himself. Besides, someone had to take care of the heir until he was of age. Carefully, you trailed behind Viserys and the Grand Maester. Viserys would surely send you back to the festival if he caught you.

Even though you couldn’t be inside the room, you eavesdropped at the door once the two men had gone inside. Your face scrunched up. Childbirth sounded painful. You couldn’t believe your mother had done it five times before. You thought as you continued to listen in. It was a secret blessing to be the princess.

With your brother as the one expected to perform duty, you were free. Free to marry for love which you told your mother about many times. Both she and Viserys had pride in your ideas of marrying for love and staying at the Keep to advise your brother if he needed help in his rule. After hearing your mother, you knew you would only ever go through the pain of labor to have a child with the man you loved.

You got closer to the door when you heard the Grand Maester’s voice.

“During the childbirth, there becomes a time when a father must make an impossible choice.”

“Well, speak it.”

“To sacrifice one or to lose them both.”

Your eyes went wide. He couldn’t be suggesting what you thought he was. They must have not tried hard enough. Was your mother on all fours instead of on her back? Did they have a water bath for her to crouch down in? Were there even any other women in the room who actually had the correct parts? You knew plenty of the labor process from books written by midwives but hidden in the depths of libraries because maesters thought they knew better than a person with an actual vagina. There was more they could do. Or they could leave your mother and let the baby pass as a stillborn. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But they could also just wait. A little over half of babies in that position came out with no problem. It would take more than a few hours but everything would be just fine. The baby just got mixed up a bit, feet first instead of head. The midwife books talked plenty of how to fix it.

The voices got quiet. You breathed out in relief before hearing your mother scream. Your father and the Grand Maester looked over when you bursted into the room. You muttered no’s as your father tried to walk over to you. He couldn’t do anything as you dropped to your knees, tears streaming down your face. You felt nothing. You didn’t even care when they announced your brother, Baelon, was dead. Viserys couldn’t even put a hand on you. You walked away and locked yourself in your room, only coming out when it was time for the funeral.

You stared at the pyre that held the wrapped bodies of your mother and brother. The castle had gathered to pay respects but knew to keep the distance from your family. Viserys couldn’t even speak. He just stared, empty inside, at the funeral pyre. Your ears perked up at hearing footsteps behind you on the soft grass.

“They’re waiting for you. One of you,” Daemon whispered to you and your sister.

“I wonder if," Rhaenyra spoke. “During the few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness."

“Not even then,” you whispered.

"Your father needs you more now than he ever has," Daemon said.

Rhaenyra shook her head. “We will never be sons."

You grabbed her hand. “I can't do it.”

Rhaenyra squeezed your hand once before walking closer to the pyre. You looked away as she yelled Dracarys, not able to see the pyre burn. Daemon met your eyes, trying to tell you that it would be okay. Both of you knew his words meant nothing. You were the last to leave the funeral. You didn’t attend dinner, not wanting to be near anyone.

You ignored the emergency council meeting. It wasn’t like you were important at those anyway. In the morning, you still didn’t show. Rhaenyra took your place instead as the drink-pourer. She could tell you of anything worth importance.

She did, in fact, come back that night to report of Daemon’s insults. How he called your brother “Heir for a Day.” You found that you didn’t even care. It was hard to care when you watched them cut your mother open without any regard. Daemon only echoed the bitter thoughts in your own head.

At the same time, you understood why your father essentially banished him. He couldn’t be as reckless as he was and just say whatever came to his mouth. And he should have known that. Even if he did just earn the throne. Pushing away the only ally at court he ever had, his own brother, was not a smart move.

You were going to miss Daemon. You thought about it as you got dressed for the night. The two of you were more alike than others. The two of you were cut from the exact same cloth. Never needing to be always around each other to prove it. He stuck to Rhaenyra more, almost all the time. But you and him were the same. Aside from your sister, he was your closest confidant in King’s Landing. Although the more you thought about it, the more annoyed you grew. Daemon left without saying goodbye. You were going to give him the silent treatment when he returned.

Viserys knocked on your door, interrupting your plans for a night stroll. You opened it, anger all over your face. Your own father seemed nervous. What did he have to be nervous about? It was just you.

“I have come to a decision.”

“And I do not care,” you said, beginning to slam the door.

“Wait!” Viserys slapped his hand on the door to keep it open. “I am sorry but you have to understand the position I was in. We ne—”

“I haven’t told Rhaenyra the truth, that you made the decision to murder your wife. You dragged her down like it was nothing and cut her open without even milk of the poppy to subdue her pain. That is what a monster would do. You let the monster that calls himself Grand Maester commit murder. Did it occur to you that there was another way?”

“The Grand Maester sa—”

“Was she on all fours? In a water bath? A birthing chair? Or was she on her back the entire time? Did you ever bring in a midwife or only let a man tell you what is best? The midwives have written about it. They’ve gone to study in foreign lands. If you wash your hands and use alcohol which I doubt was in the room, and cut very carefully, you could have possibly saved them both.

“Or better. You could have doused your hands in flaxseed and other oils, stood mother up, and been ready to either catch the falling child or reach in there yourself and help guide it out. But that never crossed that man’s mind. Because those books gathered dust as if they weren’t relevant.”

“I understand. I have done something that can never be taken back.”

“I’m glad you are aware because I will never forget that and I know Rhaenyra would never forgive you if she knew. You will live with your guilt and you will take of Rhaenyra like our mother did. Now, I wish for you to leave. I’d like to waste away in peace.” You walked away, not caring that the door was still open.

“The heir cannot waste away in peace,” your father called out.

You paused. “I’m sorry?”

“I was going to go admire the dragon skull. Come with me?”

Reluctantly, you followed your father to a room near the dragon pits. The skull of the dragon Balerion was held on a platform surrounded by candles. You had no clue who lit the candles every night in case someone in the royal family wanted to visit. Your father held a hand over each of the candles, pulling back before ever being burned.

He might have been a Targaryen but he was not a Dragon. Few people were and that was mainly in the days of old. Lord Corlys’ grandfather had been a Dragon. You knew of no others since then. It wasn’t something anyone was eager to test out. Besides, one didn’t need to be a Dragon to be a dragon-rider.

Viserys looked at the skull. “He was the last living creature to have seen Old Valyria before the Doom. Its greatness and its flaws. What do you see when you look at dragons?”

“A creature people think is just a weapon.”

“Is that why you refuse to ride one? It’s not because one didn’t choose you?”

“I’ll only have a dragon when we are of the same mind. They aren’t meant to be controlled. They’re meant to be worked with, respected, cared for like we’d care for any other pet.”

“They break horses to ride them.”

“The standard is to break horses. I trained mine with patience.”

Viserys gave a short laugh. “We were missing apples for months.”

“But it worked.”

“Yes it did… You already know how man should have played with dragons. I only wish I realized you were the right decision sooner.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If we don’t mind our own histories then it will do the same to us. Targaryens must understand that to be King… or Queen.”

“Father?”

“I behaved irrationally. I understand that. My desperation stopped me from realizing the truth. Kings will not always have sons. Heirs are by blood, not by cock or cunt. You are the most fit for the job. And you, Laelara, are my daughter.”

“What about Rhaenyra? The records of who was born first were accidentally destroyed. What if she is first-born and not me?”

“We both agreed. You are the only choice. She’s a dragon-rider, a knight. And advisor. Not queen, nor does she want it. I’ve been blind wanting only sons, not even acknowledging how you’ve been learning to rule since you could hold a scroll.”

“Daemon is your heir. They all say it.”

“He was not made to wear the crown. But you have shown everyone you were. This is no trivial matter. The Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the world. Scarier than any dragon’s saddle.”

“I’ve never even sat in a saddle before.”

“And that is what worries me more than anything. There’s something else I must tell you. Our histories tell us that Aegon looked across the Blackwater from Dragonstone and saw a rich land ripe for capture. But ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest. It was a dream.”

You listened as your father told you about Aegon the Conqueror. The hidden fact that he was a Dreamer. The secret only passed down from ruler to heir about a dream — a song— of ice and fire. One each ruler was waiting to come true. Because each ruler got closer and closer to a terrible winter. A winter from beyond the North. A winter that would prove why a Targaryen was needed on the throne. Only one with dragon blood could defeat this terrible winter. And a Targaryen would prove themself to be the prince promised. They would unite all of Westeros and keep the world of man for the living. Viserys stood still as he looked at you.

“Prince or princess.” Viserys pulled out his dagger. “This blade is engraved with Aegon’s message. There will come a time when I give it to you. Remember this song and tell no one but your heir. And watch the ravens, make friends with them. You must protect this dream, carry it and protect it. Promise me, Laelara.”

You finally walked over to him. “Well, you’ve just ruined my entire life,” you said with a laugh. “I was always going to marry for love not politics.”

“You still can. I know what I’ve done. I will stand by you and your decisions. All of them.”

“Even if it means I never find someone?”

“You will. I cannot lie to you. We need an heir but I will not rush you. I will not choose for you.”

“Alright,” you whispered. “I still need time to mourn.”

“All the time in the world I can give you after you are recognized by the Realm.”

Viserys left without another word, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You were unsure which to process first. In the end, you chose to process your pain at the loss of your mother— the crown could wait. You only set it on the backburner when Alicent and Rhaenyra came into your chamber. They kicked out your maidens, Alicent being your maiden for the day. The two of them were more excited than you. You knew what was to follow. The throne did not come easy and solely because you were a woman.

It never surprised you. You heard the whispers, the hate. It all made you scoff. Men acted like because they had a cock it made them right to rule. They wouldn’t even be alive to rule the world if their mother so much as threw herself down the stairs before giving birth. She’d walk away with only a scratch and they wouldn’t exist. It would do well for them to remember that. But would they?

While you had a mind to match your uncle, you had the outward disposition of your father. That was why the other lords of the realm loved you. You seemed to be the perfect, demure woman. It was only because you didn’t see a need to be rude and abrasive to people who hadn’t done you wrong. It was okay when you weren’t the heir. Now, you were concerned they would see it as an excuse to usurp you. Did you make yourself an easy target?

You weren’t sure as each lord bent the knee to you. How many were lying? How many were plotting? And how many were loyal allies? You were only sure of Lord Corlys Velaryon and that wasn’t saying much. The Princess Laelara had never been a title with such heavy weight before. You tilted your head as Boremund Baratheon stood in front of you.

“I am the first-born, Lord Baratheon. There is nothing that can change that fact.”

He kneeled when you didn’t back down. The recognition went as smoothly as it could go for a woman being named heir. You turned to face your father, now bowing to him as his official heir. With the affair over, you locked yourself in your room to grieve your mother. Dying of grief was still a sickness people believed in. Losing the princess wouldn’t not benefit the Red Keep now.

You hadn’t shown up to the last few council meetings. For all intents and purposes, it was like you didn’t exist. You only heard about what happened through Rhaenyra. For half a year, you took information from your sister. From Lord Corlys and some Crabman taking over the Stepstones and trying to destroy everyone to your father having to take another wife and considering the Valeyrons young daughter to more mundane affairs.

She told you about it all. You didn’t even choose the next guard to join the Kingsguard eventually turned Queensguard since a guard had died of old age. You let Rhaenyra pick. She told you Ser Criston Cole had not only seen real battle but was fine on the eyes as well. Something told you she picked him more for her than for you.

You finally left to grab a bite to eat and take a stroll. Your mourning period would soon have to come to an end. You had a job. A pouch of fruit was given to you. You popped grapes into your mouth as you walked along the outdoor hallways of the Keep. Princess Rhaenys greeted you before sitting down on a bench. You spotted your father talking to the awfully young Laena Valaryon. Duty had to be done but you were still disgusted.

“It bothers you, does it not?”

You turned at her words. “Does what? That you’d marry your twelve year old daughter to my father. A daughter who I’m barely older than? If you’re okay with it then what do I care? It is his duty to take a new wife and strengthen the line.”

“I did not ask for a lesson in politics. I asked whether this bothers you. I understand the order of things but I’m not sure you do.”

You gave her a gentle smile. “If you mean to elicit some anger from me, I’m sorry to inform you that you have the wrong Targaryen. Shall I go find my sister?”

“I mean quite the opposite. Whether it’s to my daughter or to someone else, your father will remarry soon. His new wife will produce new heirs. One of them will be male, at least one of them. And when that boy comes of age and your father has passed, the men of the realm will expect him to be heir. Not you. Because that is the order of things.”

“That is your order. I’m free to make whatever order I choose.”

“I wish that were true, Laelara. But the men of the realm already had their opportunity to appoint a ruling queen at the Great Council and they denied it.”

“They denied you, Princess Rhaenys. You are the Queen Who Never Was. And I appreciate your concern, I truly do, but I will not inherit your title.”

“Do you think you have a choice?”

“They bent the knee to me and called me heir to the throne.”

She approached you. “Here’s a hard truth which no one else has the heart to tell you. Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.”

You handed her a grape. “But they aren’t the only ones that hold torches. I’m the one with dragons. If they want to burn the realm, I will let them. We can start by setting flame to their homes… with them in it.”

“Your father is no fool.”

“Neither am I.”

You left to finish your walk, retiring to your room to mourn some more before you had to perform duties. You shot up from your bed when your sister came into your chamber. Rhaenyra seemed more panicked than anything.

“Daemon has taken the egg that was saved for Baelon. I’m getting it back, come with me.”

“Why?”

“He listens to you. He acts like I’m some little girl to protect.”

“It’s because Daemon has never met an equal before I was born.”

“Exactly. As an equal, you are coming with me. Get up, we leave now if we’re to beat the men.”

“The men?” You asked as you got dressed at her request.

“Lord Otto and the Kingsguard.”

“Rhaenyra… How are we getting there?”

“You won’t like it.”

Rhaenyra didn’t comment on the fact that you were squeezing her middle way too tight. Not only did you not have a dragon, you had never ridden one. This was still technically not riding one. Rhaenyra was the one controlling the massive creature. You were merely an unwilling passenger. You screamed, much to your sister’s delight, as Syrax practically nosedived.

All the men ducked for a moment as she landed on the bridge. Rhaenyra turned to look at you. Her hand reached up to gently wipe the tears from your face. You saw that the two of you had arrived just in time. Daemon’s dragon, Caraxes, looked ready to burn anyone. Ungracefully, you slipped off of Syrax. Trying to ignore the way Daemon laughed at you, you approached him. Otto stopped you.

“What are you doing here, Princess?”

“I’m preventing bloodshed.”

He scoffed. “Ser Criston, please escort Princess Laelara to safety.”

“There is no need, Otto. It’s just Daemon.” You approached the man. “Uncle.”

“Niece,” he said with a smile.

“You’re holding an egg. That is new, is it not?”

“The egg is intended for the heir. Poor Baelon isn’t with us.”

“Your new wife isn’t pregnant,” you said cautiously. You didn’t even know if Daemon was actually married to her. One, he had his real wife in the Vale. Two, the woman was from a brothel. It couldn’t have been legitimate.

“But she will be and I already have a dragon. Your sister and you shared a cradle with an egg when you were born. I want my child to have the same. And what’s wrong with the best egg for the heir?”

“Then that egg shouldn’t be with you.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow. “It shouldn’t?”

“You’re occupying my home. As of last week, Viserys, formally Prince of Dragonstone, now King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm has named an heir. And if you want that throne, then kill me right now, Daemon.”

You grabbed the blade of his sword still pointed out at Otto and the other men. The Kingsguard panicked, unsheathing swords. You pointed the Valyrian steel at your neck, the blade cutting into your hand. Daemon watched as you hissed at the pain but didn’t waver.

“Drop your swords! This is a proper challenge!” You yelled at the Kingsguard, still looking your uncle in the eye. “Go ahead, Daemon, kill me.”

He tilted his head, tapping the blade against your neck. The sword dropped from his hand, clanking against the cobblestone of the bridge. He closed the small distance between the two of you and placed the egg into your hands.

“I’ll only kneel when I find you worthy of the crown.”

“Then I expect to see you at my feet the first time I sit on the throne, you reckless stupid man.”

“And if I don’t? If I pick up this sword right now and make my claim?”

“Then you’ll never know true power. I would never keep Otto as Hand of the Queen… He’s a cunt.”

Daemon kissed the top of your head before pushing you. You both laughed as you walked past Otto and hesitantly got back on your sister’s dragon. You put the egg in the cauldron of coals that the guards had carried with them before telling Rhaenyra you were ready to go, wrapping your arms around her middle again.

(part 2)

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#house of the dragon fic #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x reader #targaryen!reader

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macabrelinguine · 1 year

Note

first meeting toby (as another pasta) please :))

Very creative ask! /pos

He’s not immediately trusting of you. He’ll be kinda reserved, looking around a lot, wondering if you’re a threat. But after he’s a little more comfortable with you, usually after about ten minutes, he’ll open up. You’ll be able to tell that he has because he’ll seem a lot happier, more excited, and generally just more inviting to talk to. He always has one thing or another to talk about, whether it be a crazy story about a mission, or his latest interest, you’ll know everything about it by the end of the conversation.

He has habits when he’s talking, like tapping his leg with his hand or snapping. He’s also super excited to learn about you, his new friend!! He wants to know about all your stories and interests too, maybe you even have one in common! And even if you immediately don’t, he’s going to research your interests so you guys can talk about it next time you meet up. If there’s something like sewing or knitting that you like to do, that’s great!! He loves crafts, and he’s be happy to meet up and just have a little crafting hangout with you. He likes to make scarves and sweaters and gloves for his friends, so get ready for lots of gifts.

#creepypasta #Creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta fanfiction #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby fanfiction

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pinkskytwst · 1 year

Text

Octavinelle

Octatrio/Prefect (Yuu,MC,OC) Romantic Poly

One-sided Riddle/Prefect

SCHOOL UNITY: Heartslabyul

“This is workplace harassment, you know.”

Azul let out one of his dramatic gasps, gloved hand placed over his heart as if the Prefect had landed a mortal blow.

“How could you say such a thing, my pearl?” he asked with a liberal tone of offense that he had to internally fight to keep when their beloved human’s expression remained a very unimpressed and very dry glare. “I am a merfolk of my word and I would certainly never break a term of contract, especially for my dearest employee!”

“I never agreed to this.” They said pointedly, crossing their arms over their chest and refusing to cooperate with how Jade was attempting to take their measurements.

“Aa, but you also didn’t NOT agree to it.” Azul said smoothly, flashing a charming smile. “You see, angelfish, your work contract includes the requirement for the approved uniform to be worn each shift that you are to be paid for.”

“This isn’t the uniform! I already HAVE my uniform and it’s not…THIS!” they threw their hands up into the air in frustration.

“You do have a set of our common uniform, yes, but I have come up with a brilliant idea that will help us improve attendance and sales. For these special promotions the uniforms will be…unique.” He said cheerfully, clapping his hands together and ignoring the snickering from Floyd behind them.

“Koebi-chan is going to be even more adorable than usual!” he cackled from his place on the couch where he was flicking through various catalogues and fabric books. “I’ll have to squeeze you even more than normal to handle it!”

“Jade!?” they complained, tugging their arm away from the calmer tweel as he tried to measure their wrist and fingers. “Why are you okay with this? Isn’t it going to be a lot of work for you to make these things?”

“Perhaps,” he replied smoothly, though his eyes couldn’t hide the dark glee he was enjoying from seeing the prefect so flustered and defiant. “But I have found that sewing, while not my favorite hobby, does have it’s own sort of charm. Especially when I will have such a cute model.”

Azul couldn’t hide his chuckle when their lover groaned, dropping their head into their hands and trying to hide the faint blush on their cheeks. They had gotten somewhat used to the tweel’s form of flirting, but thankfully not completely. Thankful for the Octavinelle trio at least. Their blush really was lovely.

“Do not fret, my pearl, you will be compensated handsomely for your part in my sche-plans. If my projections are correct, you will be receiving a ten percent increase for the promotional shifts you work and if the outcome is greater then I will raise it accordingly.” He promised, knowing instantly that he had won them over.

Oh the stubborn human refused outright to let him take care of their living expenses – spouting some nonsense about not wanting the three to think they were with them for financial gain, as if Azul wasn’t willing to do it even if they were – but they wouldn’t argue against pay raises that were fair for work done.

The prefect’s shoulders sagged and they let their hands fall away to turn a pouting but resigned look up at him.

“Thirty percent.” They shot back.

“Fifteen.”

“Twenty-five and not a madol lower. I can see some of the sketches from here and if I’m going to be wearing that in front of the whole school then I’m going to get what I deserve.” They said stubbornly, not realizing that Azul had actually planned for at least forty percent going to the Prefect if he had to.

“Then it’s a deal, my dear.” He nearly purred, almost being able to feel the stacks of madols in his hands that he would be earning with this idea.

He shook their hand before leaning down to place a teasing kiss on the back and then spinning to all but skip to his desk.

“Be sure to run the designs by Vil, won’t you, Jade? He has quite an eye for these things you know and I’m sure he’ll simply ADORE what we have cooked up.”

“And that stalker of his will get the word out quicker than anything!” Floyd cackled.

“Arms out, angelfish.” Jade grinned.

The prefect groaned but gave in.

“Cater, really, there’s no need to pull.” Riddle frowned in consternation, tugging his wrist away from the overexcited ginger who couldn’t stop babbling about this ‘special promotion’ thing that Mostro Lounge had started advertising.

“Ya don’t understand! If we’re not early we won’t be able to find a seat! I can’t miss this kind of photo op! My likes are gonna be through the roof! I wonder if the Prefect will let me get a picture with them.” He rambled with a wide smile as he typed away on his phone at a speed that made Riddle’s mind boggle.

“You’re going to have to have to get behind us!” Ace cackled. “We’re their besties, ya know!”

“We should definitely take pictures since Sebek and Jack couldn’t come.” Deuce agreed with a nod, Grim hanging off his shoulder.

“Well I’m gonna order the biggest tuna dish ever!” the monster said happily, dreaming of the delicious food that was waiting for him.

“I wonder what the theme is going to be.” Epel said thoughtfully from between the two card soldiers. “Vill-senpai has really gotten into the planning once Jade stopped by a few weeks ago. He won’t tell me anything about it though and Rook just giggles and starts spouting poetry no one can understand.”

“Well, we won’t be staying long.” Riddle said firmly. “Midterms are in a few days and all of you need to stay focused on not falling behind.” He ignored the groans from the first years and Cater.

Trey just laughed as they passed through the mirror into Octavinelle dorm grounds and patted his friend on the shoulder.

“I’m sure they will do fine. This will be a good stress relief for everyone.” He said, trying to ease some of the housewarden’s annoyance at being dragged along.

Of course, he gave the excuse of needing to ensure that the others didn’t go overboard, but it was impossible to miss how he caved once he heard it involved their Ramshackle Prefect.

“Perhaps but-“

The group paused when they saw the entrance to the restaurant was decorated with roses and various displays that definitely gave off a ‘Heartslabyul’ vibe but with a distinct elegance that spoke of Azul’s influence.

“What is this ‘theme’ supposed to be?” Riddle questioned as Cater gasped and rushed forward through the other students in line to enter and began taking pictures both of the entrance and himself as well with them in the background.

Epel blinked and looked around in confusion as they entered, the Queendom of Hearts décor continuing on farther.

“I don’t know, Vil just said something about ‘school spirit’ and ‘loyalty’.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, the fliers the twins were passing out just said Heartslabyul gets a ten percent discount tonight on top of the ticket promotion.” Ace said, grinning as he looked around at the rather packed lounge – mostly by familiar red, white, and black uniforms.

“Oh hey! Jade-senpai!” Deuce said suddenly, waving his arm at the tall vice-housewarden.

The eelmer’s calm smile widened just a bit as he walked in their direction, giving a polite bow.

“Welcome to Mostro Lounge, Housewarden Riddle. We were hoping you would be joining us this evening. Azul was quite positive that you would enjoy yourself. Might I show you all to a table?” He said, looking quite different in the black suit, black striped shirt, and blood red tie and gloves. There was a single white rose in his lapel pocket.

Riddle gave the tall – TOO TALL! – eelmer a distrusting glare but gave in finally at Cater’s very insistent begging.

“Very well.” He sighed, shooting a harsher glare at Ace when the boy gave a little cheer and pumped his fist.

“So what’s all this about!?” Cater asked excitedly, holding up his phone to record Jade’s answer.

Jade chuckled smoothly as he led the group through the crowd of students towards a large table near the center of the room that had obviously been reserved for the Heartslabyul housewarden. The décor was a bit more elaborate without being gaudy and everything was set up to the Heartslabyul rules.

“Why, Azul wishes to give back to the school, of course.” He said, even pulling the chair at the end out for Riddle. “After so much has happened he’s wanted to strengthen our bonds as NCR students and help to share the diverse cultures of our dorms with all on campus. It really is quite a shame, after all, that there is so many interesting traditions and styles that the other houses only barely get a peek at.”

Riddle glared again but did take the seat offered, looking around the room and noticing that while there WERE many Heartslabyul students there were quite a lot from the other dorms as well, even a couple from Ignihyde who were congregating in a corner. While it wasn’t like the houses completely segregated themselves from each other, friendships across dorms were less common than among dormmates and clubs. Now, though, there were more students intermingling, particularly with the Heartslabyul students than normal. Azul’s plan was obviously working.

“I suppose…if it means that more students will be able to experience a piece of our traditions…then it is fine.” He finally conceded. “But I will have none of our Queen’s etiquette broken! They may not be under my purview but-“

“Fret not, Housewarden Riddle.” Jade assured him before the red head could work himself up into a lecture. “Azul has scoured your exhaustive collection of rules and made adjustments to both cutlery and the menu accordingly.”

Riddle glared, still not trusting the octomer in the slightest but had to give in when it really did seem like everything was being handled well and with respect.

“Very well.” He finally agreed, making Jade’s grin widen to show the sharp, shark-like teeth.

“Then please, enjoy yourselves and I will send your server right over.”

Trey sent Riddle a comforting smile as the other boys all began looking through the menus and chattered away at the options available. All had a Heartslabyul flare but were different enough to be a special treat for even those of the dorm.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, Riddle. It’s just dinner. It’s not like Azul is tricking us into a contract. We’ll even get to see…the…oh, my.”

Riddle blinked when Trey’s gaze moved past and settled on something behind him.

Expecting a trap of some king, Riddle snapped his head around.

Instantly his face burst into a brilliant crimson.

“Welcome to Mostro Lounge, everyone! I’ll be your server today so please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” The Prefect chirped.

Riddle wasn’t even capable of forming thoughts let alone respond.

“Whoa! What do they got you dressed up in?” Ace cackled, leaning around Deuce to take in their friend’s ‘uniform’.

“Whatever do you mean, Ace? This is the Queendom of Hearts, after all. Isn’t it only proper for the Queen to be served by his most loyal servant?” They smiled sweetly, one of the fluffy white rabbit ears peaking out of their hair flicking slightly.

Riddle almost swallowed his tongue.

“You’re the Queen’s right hand rabbit!” Cater cried in delight, jumping from his chair and zooming to their friend’s side to start taking pictures.

The Prefect only smiled and even did a few poses in the detailed uniform. Red and black puffed shorts that would have been utterly indecent in Riddle’s eyes if it wasn’t for the cream-colored tights pattered with dark red, lace detail along the thighs and card suit symbols trailing down the length of their legs to the black and gold heels. A cream, black and gold corset vest sat over a red silk shirt with a large cream bow around their neck. The tails of the shirt were cut specifically to frame the white bunny tail set at the base of their spine and twitched every now and then as the ears did – showing they were either magical or electronic.

And sitting in the middle of their bow was a rose that was brighter red than the rest of the outfit.

A red matching the exact shade of Riddle’s hair.

Riddle felt like his heart was going to break out of his chest when the Prefect turned their sparkling gaze and smile on him. WERE THEY WEARING LIPSTICK!?

“Since you are a VIP customer, Riddle-sama-“ Oh my sweet seven. “-I’ll be seeing to your every need. Please don’t hesitate to call on me whenever you like. I’m at your beck and call. Now, what would everyone like to start with for drinks?”

Riddle wasn’t going to survive this.

“You are an evil man, Azul.” The Prefect said when they dropped onto the couch in his office at the end of the night, throwing their legs into Jade’s lap with a groan. “And I want thirty-five percent.”

The octomer chuckled from his place at his desk, counting the stacks of madol that had flooded in that night with glee.

“Of course, my pearl. I should reward your acting skills, after all. You far exceeded my expectations.” He said, looking over to their lover as Jade gently removed the heels from their feet to set aside and began massaging their aching limbs.

The Prefect let out a soft moan that was far more distracting than they intended, and closed their eyes to relax and be pampered after their hard work. Jade’s fingers really were something else.

“Yeah, yeah, well don’t expect that level of schmoozing all the time.” They warned. “You’re just lucky that it’s fun to make Riddle-senpai blush so much.”

“Isn’t it!?” Floyd cackled as he skipped into the room, draping himself over the back of the couch and tugging their human up into an awkward but enthusiastic kiss before dropping them back on the pillows. “And don’t worry! I taught the catfish from Savanaclaw to keep his hands to himself.”

“Yes, I do apologize for that, my dear.” Jade said. “I knew that table was going to be difficult and I shouldn’t have sent you to them. It won’t happen again.”

The Prefect hoped that the guy still HAD hands.

“It’s fine.” They waved it off, repositioning themself better on the pillows. “I was expecting that to happen eventually.” They admitted.

There was a beat before Jade gave a low chuckle.

“Fufufu…I see, so that is why you requested the heals to be reinforced.”

“They are called ‘stiletto’ heels for a reason. No one enjoys having a shoe puncture through their foot.” They answered with a yawn.

Hearing the guy’s squeal had been pretty satisfying.

Jade must have thought so too with how his hands were wandering.

“Be that as it may, we will take steps for such incidents to be prevented in the future.” Azul assured them, his brow furrowing at the one memory of the night that was less than pleasing.

The Prefect just nodded with their eyes closed, knowing that their lovers would handle it even if they were perfectly capable of doing it themself.

“Just don’t forget my bonus.”

Azul couldn’t help but chuckle, watching as their human allowed Jade to maneuver them and divest them of the different pieces of the costume until they were only left in the silk shirt. He let his gaze trace over the lines and curves of their legs that still draped across Jade’s lap as the eelmer calmly folded each piece and set them aside.

Remembering how vicious their smile had been when they broke that brute’s foot.

Sometimes it was impossible for him not to imagine what their little angelfish would be like as a merfolk. How beautiful their fins would be…or tentacles. He loved them exactly as they were but it was such a shame that the chance for such a devastatingly being to be trapped on land.

But they wouldn’t be trapped forever.

Azul had plans for that as well.

Glancing down at the madol stacked around him and the piles of paperwork that he still needed to do, he allowed himself a chance to celebrate their success and swiftly gathered and locked everything in his vault before making his way over to the sofa and bending down to gather the Prefect in his arms.

They obligingly wrapped their arms around his neck, knowing that their weight was nothing to the octomer, and laid their head against his shoulder.

“If you’re scheming something, you’d better be ready to do all the work because I deserve a pillow princess night.” They said blandly, causing Floyd to cackle and jump to his feet.

“Koebi-chan is so cute when they get demanding.” He teased, grinning when the Prefect stuck their tongue out at him over Azul’s shoulder.

“Of course, dearest, anything you wish.” Azul smiled, not even bothering to act like they had to make deals anymore to get anything they wanted from him.

After all, there was only one contract that he was working to convince them to accepting in the future and there was still an empire he needed to build first.

Only the best for their angelfish.

------------------------------------------

Did Azul place Riddle's table in the middle of the Lounge so that it would maximize everyone's view of the Prefect?

Yes.

Is he jealous that practically the whole school has a crush on their Angelfish?

Also yes.

Will that stop him from taking advantage of that fact while also rubbing in how the Prefect was with them?

Not at all.

Hope you guys like it! Dedicated to my sis who thinks our octotrio works best with a little prefect right in the middle.

Once I get my AO3 page set up I'll cross post these so that they'll be easier to find.

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spacedace · 11 months

Text

Here, have a snippet of the Jason & Steph sibling bonding portion of the DP x DC AU I wrote 10k words for since last night in a haze of post sickness/burnout creative burst, featuring some Anger Management because of course it does lol

(I call it a snippet but it’s like...3k words lol)

Trigger Warnings because most of this snippet focuses on them running around Crime Alley and shit that goes down in it: references to drugs, overdoses, domestic abuse, child endangerment (if I miss anything let me know and I’ll add it). Nothing expliciet or details but they are things mentioned as happening because, well, Crime Alley.

Spoiler shifts subtly from foot to foot on the rooftop, hands open and ready at her side as she split her attention from watching him and checking the street below for signs of trouble. Her gaze was sharp on the girls working the corner, tracking for any hint that the man talking them up was making any of them uncomfortable even as she made sure Jason didn’t suddenly dart across the ten feet between them to strike out at her.

“George Conrad.” He said, satisfied that his sudden breaking of the silence didn’t make her jump though did catch her attention fully, fingers twitching warningly towards her belt. He nodded his head down to the street and the large man rummaging through the bag he brought with him. More of the girls had huddled up around him. “Not a john. Not even from Gotham.” He explained, shifting to walk over to the edge of the roof, giving her his back as he did. “His son Kyle ran away from home while George was oversees and ended up working the streets. George tracked him down once he was back in the states a few years ago but by the time he made it here Kyle had been killed.”

She moved to join him at the ledge, still leaving space between them but not enough for his guns to be as effective. Smart, vigilant, but still with a soft enough heart to stop and listen to one of the many tragedies that played out in Gotham’s darkest streets.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes softening on the big man in question as he started handing out ziploc bags. Jason knew very well what they held, and wondered if Spoiler could make out the finer details from the distance they were at. Sandwiches, granola bars, water bottles, condoms, clean needles, wet-wipes, little travel sewing kits, over the counter pain meds. Anything and everything George had ever been told would be appreciated or useful by the sex workers he spoke to.

“Overdose.” Jason answered, grateful that the distorter built into his helmet disguised the tightness of his voice. Memories of a cold body on the floor, stiff and waxy with distant glassy eyes. “Got mixed up with the wrong person. Boyfriend. Not a big player but,” He shrugged and knew that Spoiler would understand. It was how a lot of people got mixed up in sex work when they wouldn’t have normally. Boyfriend that promised the world, the painful fall into being pressured to sleep with said boyfriend’s friend, then another, then another. “One of Daisy’s boys was a neighbor and figured out what was going on, Daisy helped get him out but it was too late by then.”

Below one of the girls, younger than the rest - an adult, because he wouldn’t allow anything else in his territory, but still new to the scene - surged forward to wrap her arms around the old man. George gave her a gentle pat on the back, pushing her back gentle to dig out a card from his pocket. A list of numbers for her to call, shelters and organizations that could help, his own number in case she ever needed anything. “They chipped in for a funeral for him. Gave George somewhere to go and mourn. He’s been here ever since, trying to look after them all. He works as a bouncer at Daisy’s these days but he always does the rounds when he isn’t working.”

“People never get this part.” Spoiler mused, voice going soft and distant. “They always think the Alley is just…” She waved a gloved hand, “Trash and monsters. They can’t seem to get that there’s more. Just…people. Some really good ones even.”

He smiled behind his mask. There was a reason she was the one of the whole Bat Clan he’d decided to trust with this.

“Come on.” He said, waving her after him as he began an easy run that’d let them both move easily from rooftop to rooftop. Spoiler hesitated a moment, but at length followed, quick and quiet as she darted from shadow to shadow in his wake.

They spent the following couple of hours meandering around Crime Alley at an easy clip. Squat roofs and rusted fire escapes, narrow streets and dark corners. Pausing to jump in and handle anything that popped up or at particular spots of interest where he’d point out places and people. The chop shop run by the ragged gang of teens and children some of the gangs had been angling towards that needed looking after. The homeless encampment nestled between the grimy apartment building Daisy O’Neil had taken over to run her business out of and the tiny, almost forgotten pauper’s cemetery. The usual roosting spots for the drug dealers, the gambling dens, the little family owned cafe that had the best Tantuni at midnight and even better Turkish coffee at the crack of dawn.

It was as they perched on top of this last one, tucked back in the shadows away from view as Spoiler devoured the freshly made Lokma that Mrs. Solak insisted on making fresh for them when they stopped by that the question finally came.

“So what exactly is all this?” Spoiler asked, popping another of the sugary, honey covered Lokma in her mouth. He’d shoved the container Mrs. Solak had given to him over to her after eating only a few, knowing she was going to try to steal them anyway if he didn’t. “When you said you needed my help with something in Crime Alley, I was expecting…I don’t know, drug runners or something.” She popped another golden dough ball in her mouth, cheeks round as a chipmunk and voice muffled as she said, “Not a tour of the place.”

Jason let his head fall back on the brick of the rooftop entrance behind them, eyes scanning the glittering horizon of the Gotham skyline, trying to sort out his answer. He had talked about how he was going to do this with Jazz, practicing what he was going to say, what he wanted to reveal, what outcomes he could expect from the whole thing. When he left he’d felt confident about it all, riding high on the warmth of Jazz’s kiss and the fluttering thumps of little legs kicking against his hand. Now that he was here though he felt lost as to how to begin.

“I’m hanging up the mask.” He finally said. It wasn’t quite like the first time he’d said it out loud, in the privacy of his apartment, curled in bed with Jazz, only brave enough to whisper it in the dark. There wasn’t that rush of anxiety and relief that had hit him at finally saying what had twisted over and over in his head for weeks leading up to that moment. Now there was just the settled feeling, the certainty, the surety of being on the path he wanted to be on. “I wanted to ask if you’d look after my territory me when I do.”

Spoiler gaped at him. “Wait, seriously?”

He almost laughed, he settled on giving her a lazy smile. “Seriously.”

With her masked pulled down so she could eat her treats he could see her wide eyed, disbelief on her face easily. “Why?”

He gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalant. “This used to be your territory for awhile, right? You’re from here, you know the Alley and the people and how it all works.” He felt his smile go softer, “I trust you to be able to keep it safe.”

Spoiler’s - Steph’s - expression softened at that. “That’s…thank you.” She glanced out the same way he had before, face caught in something bittersweet. “I…I hated this place growing up. I still do, kinda. I think everyone that lives here does. But I still missed it, it’s still…still home.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, mind turning over his childhood. The constant fear and hardship. Living rough even when he did have a roof over his head. His father’s heavy hands. His mother’s slow wasting. Crime Alley was a complete shit hole, one where the worst of the worst tended to gather. But it wasn’t all monsters. There were good people too, just trying to scrape by. Old George wandering the streets handing out necessities to working girls and boys. The Solak family and their little shop, giving out the left overs to the street kids and homeless. The Nightingales, crammed into their two bedroom apartment, just trying to get by. “I knew you’d get it.”

They sat in silence for awhile. Steph chewing over his request and her Lokma, Jason lost in memories of the past and wistful dreams of the future. At length the blond next to him bumped his shoulder with hers, head tilting at a questioning angle. “I…I really appreciate what you said, about why me.” She said, awkward and touched in equal measure. “But…I was actually wondering why you were stepping back.”

He was ready for that question, he was. He’d initially just wanted to leave it at none of your fucking business but Jazz had - wise as ever - pointed out that he was asking her a favor, and a big one at that. He might not be comfortable with the rest of his family knowing everything - or anything - but Steph at least deserved an explanation as to why he was asking her to take over his territory.

“You tell anyone this, and I will kill you.” He started and then cringed internally because that had not at any point been something that had come up in his practice conversations with Jazz. Oh well, any more ooie-gooey feelings talk and Steph probably would have thought he was replaced by a pod person or something. “I’m seeing someone.”

The faintly alarmed look the blond vigilante beside him had melted away in an instant, replaced by a sly, mischievous grin. Hellion. One whiff of gossip and that’s all it took. “Ooooh, Big Bad Red Hood has a heart after all.” She crooned, ignoring her earlier reticence to get too close and leaning dramatically against his side. “Who is it huh? Anyone I know? Ooh, is it someone in the Outlaws?”

He was reminded of before he died, suddenly. Of teasing Dick over his latest crush over a beautiful red head that could kick his ass like a proper annoying little brother. In an echo of that moment so many years ago, he shoved Spoiler off in the same way Dick had done to him, rolling his eyes at her dramatic squawking as she nearly dropped her treat to disguise the small smile that wanted to curl at his lip. He swiped at the container lazily, a feint at stealing it back that resulted in a brief scuffle that ended with him popped a few of the Lokma in his mouth as she tore the container - that he had given to her in the first place - away, holding it close to her chest like a precious treasure.

“No, no one you know.” He answered at last they finally settled down. He paused for a beat, gaze turning back to the city as he added. “She’s a civilian.”

Spoiler looked considering at that, chewing at one of the last of the Lokma thoughtfully. “So what’s going on then? You do a face reveal and she asked you to quit the vigilante business?”

“No.” He said, taking a small, steadying breath. Better to just rip off the bandaid. “She’s pregnant.”

Spoiler went still beside him, laughing eyes shuttering and face falling into a neutral mask as she stared at him. After a long, long moment she gave a small, unreadable little, “Oh.”

Jason fought the urge to fidget. Oh. It could mean so many things. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh how nice. Oh boy I can’t wait to tell Bruce about this. That last one, admittedly, was unlikely. Spoiler was on good terms with most of the Bats and Birds but she and Bruce had long had something of a rocky relationship. No where near as bad as what he and the old man had, but still enough that she was probably the very last person to willingly go hunt Bruce down to share all the details of Jason’s private life unless she thought it particularly necessary.

The silence stretched on. And Jason knows what silence does to a human brain. Four seconds of quiet during a conversation after saying something registers as rejection, caused feelings of anxiety and apprehension, even caused the same signals in the brain as physical pain. Prolonged silence and steady attention at the same time caused an urge to fill the quiet, to speak and keep speaking until the other person says something. It was something Bruce taught him, guiding him along in his Robin days on how to perform interrogation and get the person they were questioning to spill their guts.

He was taught too how to outlast that silence in situations where he was being questioned. Both by Bruce and by the League - though the interrogations that he was meant to resist under their teachings had far more than long awkward silences to contend with. He knew how to clamp down on that instinctive drive to keep talking when faced with stillness like this.

And yet, somehow he could stop himself.

“I just…I think about being a kid and my dad going to work,” He said the word with appropriate amount of vitrol, “And then never coming back. Him dying in jail and it just being me and my mom trying to scrape by. Or…or with Bruce. Knowing that I was always going to place second to the Rogues and the city. I just…” His head dropped back on the brick behind him, eyes closed and throat tight. “I can’t do that to my kid. I’m going to be there. I’m going to make sure they’re safe and happy and that they don’t ever have to worry about if their old man is coming home or not.”

It was a nightmare he’d been having, since the morning he and Jazz crowded over a couple of pregnancy tests and saw the results. Dying out in the gutter and shambling home as a ghost to see the grief he left behind. Jazz crying, a child who’s features he could never make out standing in the doorway the way he would stand at the entrance of the cave when he was too injured to go out with Batman. Waiting in painful silence and burning tears to find out that his father was dead.

“I’m not…I’m not cutting out of the life completely.” He said, trying to focus past the squeezing in his chest, trying to force the conversation back into a conversation rather than him just pouring his bleeding heart out to a blank wall. “I’m going to talk to Babs, see if she’d be alright with me helping with some of what she does, or get something similar setup solely for the Alley. I’m going to keep tabs with my guys on what’s going on and work with them that way. And if there’s anything big, obviously you guys can call me in, I’m not just going to sit back if there’s a city wide threat or worse, I just - “

There were arms around him, suddenly. Warm and strong as they wrapped around him, a face pressed into his shoulder, his nose tickled by blond hair.

He sat there, frozen for a long moment before slowly, lifting his own arms to return the hug. Steph gave him an encouraging squeeze. “I get it.” She said, voice whisper soft and almost lost as she spoke into the leather of his jacket. “I think…I think if I’d been older, if I was more able to keep her…I think I would have done the same thing.” There was a faint sniff as she finally pulled away. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bright with tears. “I’m happy for you.” She moved to gently head butt him, “And I’m honored to take over watching over this shithole of ours.”

Jason gave a watery laugh, not even caring that he was crying as he scrubbed away some of the tears that had burned down his cheek. “Thanks Blondie. Steph.”

She rocked back on her heels, arms crossed as her expression turned suddenly serious. “I do have one condition though.” At his look the seriousness melted away into an exuberant grin. “I want to meet this mystery woman of yours. Wait!” She brightened, “Two conditions! I want to be there when you finally tell B and the rest! I am not missing the look on their faces when you tell them!”

He rolled his eyes and shoved her, sending her tumbling into the container of Lokma and sending the remaining fried dough balls rolling across the grungy roof. Steph squawked, dropping to her knees before the thoroughly ruined sweets as dramatic as if it was her one true love laying dead before her. “They were so young, so innocent!” She wailed, throwing her head back as if to howl at the sky in mourning before snapping back to him, finger pointing at him accusatory. “You! This is your fault! I will have my vengeance!”

The rest of the night was spent darting from rooftop to rooftop in an echo of the game of tag he used to play with Dick and Babs years ago. Tackling each other and fighting without actually aiming to do real damage. Only pausing to jump down to the street or through a window here and there to knock some heads together.

By the time he was heading to the Dead Man’s Hand so he could walk Jazz home - or whisk her off to his safehouse, if he was lucky and she was able to duck her siblings for the day - he felt lighter. Steph would look after the Alley, the people he protected. He’d work with her over the next few months, get her integrated with his lieutenants and make sure she was familiar with the ins and outs of his little slice of Gotham, make sure she was as ready as she could be to take over for him.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #jason todd #stephanie brown #jason & steph sibling bonding for the win #anger management #jazz fenton #crime alley #jason retiring as red hood #jason asking steph to take over looking after crime alley for him #my head canon is that the second Jason realizes he's a dad in any capacity he's gonna walk away from the vigilante/crime lord life #he just wouldn't be able to do it to his kid #Steph and Jason would be friends you can't convince me otherwise #they'd get each other in a way I don't think the rest of the batfam would #also Jason and Barbara teaming up to be overwatch would be amazing #the amount of snark and sass that everyone would get over comms would be unending #i'm so fucking glad to be finally writing again god damn #trying to point my brain back to business of family but this particular au has me in a chokehold right now #i just wanna write the scene were Harley shows up covered in blood and hugs Jason & Babs & tells them they're safe #because she finally killed that fucking evil ass clown #bc the Joker threatened the family Jason was building for himself #and Aunt Harley wasn't having any of that fuck you very much for thinking otherwise Joker #ghosts of gotham au

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