a/n: I have a little soft spot for mingo so I wanted to write some comfort for him, he may be a bastard but he deserves a hug
☽pairings: donquixote doflamingo x gn!reader (no pronouns used)
☽genre: hurt/comfort, established relationship
☽warnings: none
A sharp gasp disrupted the serene silence of the warlord’s bedroom. Doflamingo quickly rose out of bed in a panic, gasping for air and desperately clutching at the white silk sheets as if they were life support. Sweat dribbled down his forehead as his heart raced, nearly beating out of his chest. For the past few nights, he had been having recurring nightmares about his childhood. He sensed everything all over again; the searing heat of the flames tickling his feet, the loud roars and jeers from the angry mob that ridiculed him and his family, and the great sense of alarm that ran through his veins. At this very moment, he couldn’t discern between dream and reality. All he felt was fear: pure and utter fear. He never thought he would feel such a horrid, helpless emotion ever again, however, he was wrong. The sudden shaking of the bed caused you to awaken from your slumber. You already knew what was going on judging by your lover’s heavy breathing. Acting upon instinct, you pulled the warlord into an embrace; wrapping your arms around him to provide a warm sanctuary away from his thoughts.
“It’s okay, Doffy. I’m here. It’s just a nightmare.”
It took Doflamingo a few seconds to process everything, however, he soon returned your embrace, pulling you tightly into his arms. His hands grabbed bundles of your pajamas to make sure you were real and not some kind of illusion. Feeling the cotton fabric between his fingers, as well as hearing your sleepy reassurances, gave him a definite confirmation; it was just a nightmare, nothing more. The panic flowing throughout his veins seized, being replaced with great relief. Though he doesn’t verbally express it, the warlord is beyond grateful to have somebody like you by his side. Of course he cherishes all those who are close to him, however, you’re the only one able to see him vulnerable like this behind closed doors. Doflamingo pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, stroking your back in a doting manner before releasing a content hum. He didn’t speak a single word, the comfortable quietness was enough to convey his gratitude. You looked up at him; half of his face was illuminated from the moonlight streaming into the bedroom window. Though his eyes were darkened, you noticed his lips were curled in a soft smile. Doflamingo pulled you back into the bed, holding you close to his chest to where you could hear his steady heartbeat. Giving you a final peck on the forehead, he nestled his head into the fluffy pillows, drifting back off into a peaceful night’s sleep which you soon followed after whispering a faint ‘I love you’ into his ear.
A/N: Phaedra piece for @disneyvamps I hope it’s like you imagined! I tried my best.
People who see this probably don’t have the TW’s (Suicide) tagged, but I still advice viewer discression. Phaedra’s story is not a light one and I stuck to the source material. Nothing physical happens between her and Hippolytus.
When Theseus first told me of Hippolytus, I was outraged. After having left my sister to rot and taken me as his bride instead, after leaving time after time to hunt for even more fame and glory, after welcoming him in my arms when he came back regardless, I still wasn’t enough for him. He needed yet another poor woman to satisfy his needs.
I composed myself, knowing that Hippolytus couldn’t do anything about it. I was his stepmother and I should act like it. Stewing in rage never made anything better.
When I met him, he told me he was named after his mother Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons. You could see which parent raised him. He was strong, kind, respectful, and everything else Theseus wasn’t. Except for stubborn. From day one, I could see he was incredibly stubborn.
I tried to tell myself the reason I kept visiting him was because he was like the child I never had, but after a few months, I had to admit that that wasn’t it. I felt sick to my stomach the first time I let myself think that I could be in love with him. A stepmother falling in love with her stepson was unheard of, and the gods would never let it go unpunished.
I couldn’t control myself. I had to go back time and time again. When I didn’t, I couldn’t sleep, my head spinning with thoughts of him. If I got so exhausted I did sleep, I would see his face in my dreams.
The day he went away with Artemis I was equal parts distraught and euphoric. It meant he was unavailable. The comfort that gave me lasted only a few days, before the restless nights began again.
When Hippolytus came back for a visit, he brought with him the rumour that Theseus had upset Aphrodite. Apparently, he never brought her the correct sacrifices after she handed him the key to defeating the minotaur. I immediately understood that it must have been the goddess who made my sister fall in love with Theseus. What took longer was the realisation that maybe, just maybe, the same goddess was now influencing me. Except I wasn’t a tool to help Theseus. I was a weapon to punish him.
Hippolytus took his vow to Artemis in front of the whole court. Theseus took personal offense to it. He called his son a traitor, a bastard, an ungrateful child who didn’t know what he was doing. He whined about needing someone to continue the family line. At this point, I had grown numb to his endless begging for heirs.
It ended with a fight. A huge fight. Maybe it was all of the emotions, perhaps love saw her chance, but my desire rose too. I cursed Aphrodite, both silently and out loud, but a reaction didn’t come.
Running to Hippolytus’ room with the intent of begging him to take me away and marry somewhere far from Athens was an impulsive decision. Stopping right before I threw open the door wasn’t.
If I went in, I would give Theseus the punishment that I was intended to give him. The punishment of being shamed before the whole world by not just an unruly son, but an unchaste wife, too.
Being the good string puppet someone up above intended me to be was the last thing I wanted.
It physically hurt to take my hand away from the door, but I did it. My mother, my brother, my sister. They had all been pawns in a greater scheme. I, as the only one still left, would be the one to cut our strings.
I began to whisper while I walked down the hallways: ‘I, Phaedra of Crete, daughter of Pasiphae and sister of Ariadne and Asterion, won’t be a punishment.’ Was it praying if I was disobeying the gods? It felt like praying. ‘I won’t beg Hippolytus to marry me. I won’t be lusting after him anymore. It isn’t what I want, it’s what I am ordered to do.’ I began walking to the side exit of the palace, the one that led to the sea. ‘I won’t allow anyone to control my family any longer.’ You wouldn’t survive a drop into the sea from this point, was one of the first things I got told when I came to Athens. ‘For I am not a weapon to be wielded.’ I’d get to see if whoever said it was right.
|
Ariadne sat down on the dock, her shoulders hanging. Quietly standing behind her were Artemis and Dionysus. ‘I need to do the rites. Somehow. She must get a chance of getting into the Underworld.’
Dionysus laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘She will get more than a chance.’
Ariadne nodded absentmindedly. ‘I think she might have seen it as the only exit from Aphrodite,’ she whispered. ‘Which…’ she clasped her hands in front of her face. ‘I felt the same way. I thought of it a few times, and so did my mother. We just never pushed through.’ Ariadne began to cry, glad that the tears made their way out. ‘We need to make sure Theseus doesn’t freak out. He might start a hunt for… I wouldn’t know, but he’ll use someone as a scapegoat. That’s all he ever did.’ The silence of the gods almost made her break. ‘So he already did.’
There came no apology, no defense. Just a silent confirmation. ‘Then let me pray it’ll be over soon.’
|
I find a coin and am allowed to cross the Styx, even though I have no idea how or why. The thought of the other side scares me, but I can’t hang out on the banks forever. So I go.
It isn’t much different than the journey from Crete to Athens, anyway.
Something tells me I don’t have to be afraid. I don’t know whether to trust the feeling or not. I am, after all, a shame to everyone who knows me. The Fields of Punishment is the only thing I expect to get.
No matter what awaits me on the other side, at least I am not a pawn in someone’s strategy anymore. For someone in the clutches of death, I have never felt more free.
A/N: I think Phaedra could be infertile. She and Theseus never had children as far as I know. Which, that’s strange in greek mythology, where every couple who touched hands had a baby.
It didn’t really fit in the text, but I like to think that in this version, Hippolytus understands how the gods are involved.
Originally, the first line was going to be ‘I don’t even blame Aphrodite for what happened.’ It was a killer line, but I couldn’t do anything else with it through out the story.
