#its just. hes so gentle. and kind. and lovely. and he loves his sons so much. and he wants mikey to win so bad. it makes me really like.

[love-killed-the-superstar]

unusual anecdote from pmsing real hard tonight: i just broke down crying rewatching the battle nexus arc because of splinter letting mikey win and saying he doesnt want to stand in the way of his children competing in the tournament

[cherry-zip]

─ • CSC .ᐟ Kindergarten Crush

› content ┆ ceo scoups x kindergarten teacher fem reader, fluff ✎ word-count .ᐟ 3.3k. ⌁ summary ┆CEO Choi Seungcheol can not help but fall in love with the one kindergaten teacher who takes best care of his son while he is late. He's making it his mission to be the best father so you would accept to love and take care of him too.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated!

It was the kind of late afternoon when the last streaks of sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow on the cozy space inside. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of a cartoon playing on the projector screen. A blanket was spread across the floor, surrounded by pillows of every shape and color. In the middle of it all were two figures: a small boy, whose legs were tucked beneath him as he sat cross-legged on the blanket, and his teacher, you, sitting beside him with a gentle smile on your face.

You were everything a child could ask for in a teacher—warm, caring, and endlessly patient. Your laughter was infectious, and your ability to make every child feel seen and heard was unmatched. You had a particular soft spot for one student in your class, a tiny boy named Seungwoo. He was shy, and often a bit reserved, but there was something in his wide eyes and sweet smile that melted your heart every time.

That day, Seungwoo had stayed after school, as he often did, for some extra playtime in the reading zone waiting for his father to pick him up. His classmates had all gone home, and you had promised him you'd watch his favorite cartoon together. And so, there you both were—Seungwoo nibbling on a cookie as he snuggled into a pillow beside you.

"Are you sure your mom and dad don't mind you staying a bit longer, Seungwoo?" you asked softly, your eyes twinkling with affection as you handed him another cookie.

Seungwoo shook his head, a tiny smile forming on his lips. "Dad's always busy, but he likes it when I stay here. He says I’m safe with you."

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words. "Well, you're safe with me anytime, sweetie. And I'll always have cookies and cartoons waiting for you."

Just as the cartoon reached its climax, the sound of the door opening made you turn. Standing in the doorway, looking every bit as polished and serious as he always did, was Choi Seungcheol, the CEO of a major tech company. Also well known for his handsome looks. His sharp dark suit and expensive watch contrasted with the cozy, colorful childlike atmosphere of the classroom, but the sight before him made his chest tighten.

There, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was his son Seungwoo, laughing and enjoying his time with you. You were sharing cookies, the kind you always baked with your students in mind, and sipping on fruit juice as you watched the cartoon. The sight of you—your gentle smile as you carefully adjusted a pillow for Seungwoo, the way Seungwoo’s face lit up every time you spoke—was so pure, so heartwarming, that Seungcheol’s heart skipped a beat.

His usual sharp and composed demeanor faltered for a split second as he stood there, taking in the moment. He hadn’t expected to find such a sweet scene after his long day of meetings, but it was exactly what he needed to see. It felt like everything he had worked so hard for—his long hours and high-pressure job—was being undone by something as simple as this: someone’s love and attention for his son.

You noticed him standing there, and your face lit up in that familiar, welcoming smile. "Ah, Mr. Choi! I didn’t expect you this late. Seungwoo wanted to stay a little longer, so we’re just finishing up with some cookies and a cartoon. How was your meeting?"

Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile, softer than usual. "It went well, thank you. I’m sorry for being late."

Seungwoo, noticing his father, scrambled to his feet, rushing over to him with a bright grin. "Dad! You’re here!" he exclaimed, holding up a cookie in the offering. "Want one?"

Seungcheol’s heart melted at his son’s enthusiasm. "Sure," he said, crouching down to accept the cookie, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. You smiled at him kindly, and for the first time in a long while, Seungcheol felt his shoulders relax.

As they all sat together on the blanket, Seungwoo between you two, Seungcheol found himself drawn into the warmth of the moment. The laughter and comfort that filled the room seemed to melt away the tension of his busy, corporate life. It was strange, how just being in this simple, peaceful setting made everything feel... right.

Over the next few weeks, Seungcheol made a quiet promise to himself. He had always been a man of routine, arriving at the school late after long hours of meetings, but now he found himself arriving just a little earlier each day. He would make sure to stop by the classroom after work, even if just for a few minutes. He wanted to see that smile you always greeted him with, to hear your gentle voice speaking to his son, making him feel safe and cared for.

Every time he saw you, a flutter would rise in his chest. You were so effortlessly kind, so good to Seungwoo. He had never realized how much of an impact a teacher could have on a child’s life until now. And perhaps—just perhaps—he was beginning to wonder what kind of impact you could have on his life, too.

One afternoon, as he arrived a little earlier than usual, you were sitting at your desk, grading papers with a focused expression. Your hair was loosely tied back, and the soft light from the window framed your face in a way that made you look even more beautiful. Seungcheol hesitated for a moment before knocking softly on the doorframe.

"Hi," he said, his voice low but steady.

You looked up and smiled warmly. "Mr. Choi, you’re early today. Is everything alright?"

He took a deep breath, the weight of the moment not lost on him. "Yes. Everything’s fine," he replied. "I... I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you do for Seungwoo. He really loves being here with you."

You blinked in surprise at the sincerity in his voice. "It’s my pleasure, Mr. Choi. Seungwoo is such a sweet boy. He’s a joy to have in class."

Seungcheol’s heart skipped a beat at your words. He stood there for a moment longer, unsure of how to express what he was feeling. But there, in the quiet space of the classroom, he realized that perhaps some things didn’t need words. Not yet, anyway.

As he walked over to where Seungwoo was playing with a set of blocks, you joined them, and for the first time in a long while, Seungcheol didn’t mind staying a little longer. He knew he would be coming to school more often now, not just to pick up his son, but because—perhaps—there was more to discover in this little classroom with its cozy reading zone, pillows, and blankets.

It wasn’t just the cookies that kept him coming back. It was you.

The following days seemed to pass in a blur, but each one held something special for him. He found himself eagerly anticipating the moment when he'd arrive at the school, hoping to catch just a glimpse of you. And it wasn’t just about Seungwoo anymore—though, of course, he adored his son and cherished the time they spent together. But there was something else now, something he couldn't quite put into words, that drew him back to the classroom every day.

Each afternoon, he would arrive a little earlier, hoping to find the moment when you and Seungwoo were still together, sharing their cookies and watching cartoons. He loved the way you laughed at the silly moments in the show and the way you gently encouraged Seungwoo to try new things, even as you made him feel comfortable at his own pace.

One particular Thursday, Seungcheol arrived with a little more excitement than usual. He had no meetings scheduled for the afternoon, so he was able to leave work early. When he entered the school, he was greeted by the soft murmur of children’s voices and the sweet scent of cookies wafting through the hallway. He smiled to himself as he walked toward the classroom. He could hear the familiar sound of your voice before he even reached the door.

"Okay, Seungwoo, what’s your guess? Will it be the blue one or the green one?"

Seungwoo giggled. "The green one! It’s always the green one!"

He stopped for a moment, listening to the laughter. He couldn't help but smile, feeling warmth in his chest. He pushed open the door and saw a familiar scenery—Seungwoo sitting on the blanket, legs crossed, with you beside him. You were playing a guessing game, and there were cookies scattered around. Your eyes lit up when you saw him.

"Mr. Choi! You’re here early today!" you said, your voice full of pleasant surprise.

Seungcheol, slightly embarrassed by how eager he felt, nodded. "I finished my work early. Thought I’d pick Seungwoo up and maybe stay for a bit."

You smiled warmly, your gaze lingering just a little longer than usual. "You’re welcome to join us, of course. We were just playing a game. Want to try?"

Seungwoo looked up, his face lighting up. "Dad, you can play too! We’re guessing the color of the candy!"

He chuckled, feeling an unexpected sense of comfort. He was used to boardroom meetings, not children's games, but something about being in this space with you and Seungwoo made him feel at ease. "Alright, I’ll give it a try," he said, taking a seat on the floor beside them. The warmth of the moment was enough to make him forget the hectic hours he spent in high-rise offices.

As you played the game, he found himself enjoying the simplicity of the moment. He listened to Seungwoo’s innocent guesses and watched you with encouraging smiles. Your laughter echoed in his heart, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was experiencing something rare, something that transcended the world of high-powered deals and deadlines.

It was clear that you had a way of making everyone around you feel special. Your love for teaching, your care for each student, and your kindness toward them had started to make a significant impact. He found himself lingering a little longer each day, unable to tear himself away from the peaceful atmosphere you created in that little classroom.

By Friday, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Seungcheol realized that he was beginning to look forward to his time together with you, even if it was just a few minutes at the end of the day. He wanted to know more about the person who had become such an important part of his son’s life. And—though he couldn’t quite admit it yet—he wanted to know more about the woman who made his heart skip every time you smiled at him.

The day dragged on longer than usual, but Seungcheol finally made his way to the school, arriving as the final bell rang. He didn’t rush this time; he took his time, knowing he had a few extra minutes to spare. When he walked into the classroom, he found you packing up some of your things.

"Miss Y/N," he said, his voice a little softer than usual, "I wanted to thank you again for everything you’ve been doing for Seungwoo. He really enjoys his time here, and I can tell he’s learning so much from you."

You smiled up at him from the desk, your eyes warm and kind. "It’s my pleasure, Mr. Choi. Seungwoo is such a bright boy. I’m really lucky to have him in my class."

There was a quiet pause between you two, and you felt something shift in the air, a subtle, unspoken connection that had been growing stronger with each day. He had to take a deep breath before speaking again.

"I was wondering… if you might be free sometime? Maybe we could grab a coffee? Just… as a thank you. You know, for all the kindness you’ve shown Seungwoo and for making me feel so welcome."

The words hung in the air between you. For a brief moment, Seungcheol cursed himself for being so straightforward, so vulnerable. But when he looked at you, he saw your smile soften, your eyes lighting up in a way that made his heart race.

"I’d love that," you said, your voice gentle. "I’m usually free on weekends if that works for you."

A surge of relief washed over him. "That sounds perfect. I’ll let you know when."

You exchanged numbers with a small, tentative smile, both of you feeling the weight of what this moment might mean. Seungcheol could feel his pulse quicken at the thought of spending more time with you, outside the classroom. He had known for a while now that there was something special about you, something that made him feel alive in ways you hadn't expected.

When you left the school that afternoon, your heart was full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. The thought of meeting him for coffee and talking about something other than Seungwoo and school made your chest tighten in excitement. You hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine this kind of connection in years, but now, with every smile from him, you felt yourself pulling closer.

As the days passed, you looked forward to your coffee date, knowing that this was just the beginning of something that felt as sweet and simple as the cookies you’d shared in that classroom, surrounded by pillows and laughter

The days that followed were filled with anticipation, and he found himself counting down the hours until Saturday. Though he had many things to do—business deals, phone calls, tasks at the office—nothing felt as important as the upcoming coffee date with you. The thought of seeing you outside of school, getting to know the person behind the kind, gentle teacher, made his heart flutter in ways he hadn’t felt in years.

Saturday finally arrived, and he made sure to arrive at the café a little early. The air was crisp, a hint of winter beginning to settle in. He stood outside, adjusting his jacket, checking his watch, running a hand through his hair. He tried hard to not look too eager, but the truth was, he had been looking forward to this moment all week.

When he saw you walking toward him, a soft smile on your face, his heart skipped a beat. You looked effortlessly beautiful, wearing a simple yet elegant dress paired with a cozy cardigan. The way you carried yourself, with grace and warmth, made you seem like you were in your element.

"Hi, Mr. Choi!" you greeted him, your voice light and friendly. "I hope I’m not late."

His nerves settled at the sound of your voice, and he couldn’t help but smile. "Not at all, Miss Y/N. I just got here a few minutes ago. I’m glad you could make it."

You walked into the café together, the scent of coffee and fresh pastries welcoming you inside. Seungcheol led you to a quiet corner, where the soft hum of conversation and the low music in the background made the space feel intimate and cozy. As he sat down, he couldn’t help but notice how at ease you seemed, how your presence brought an unexpected peace to your usually hectic world.

"I have to admit," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I wasn’t sure what to expect. I mean, we usually talk about Seungwoo, school, and all the little things in his life. But this—this feels different."

You smiled, your eyes sparkling with warmth. "I think it’s nice, don’t you? A change of pace. We get to talk about something other than lesson plans and school activities."

He chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. "Definitely. I’ve spent so much of my life focused on work and responsibilities, that I forget that there are moments like these that actually make life feel… complete. Like this. With you."

Your smile softened at your words, and you tucked a strand of hair behind you ear. "I understand what you mean. Teaching is a big part of my life, but there’s also more to it, more to me. Sometimes it’s nice to step away from the classroom and just be yourself for a moment."

Seungcheol nodded, his gaze lingering on you. He hadn’t realized until now just how much he longed for these quieter moments—the ones that weren’t filled with the buzz of the corporate world. He was used to being the one in charge, the one who always had to make decisions, led meetings, and set the pace. But with you, there was a kind of tranquility, a balance that he hadn’t known he needed.

As you talked, the conversation flowed easily. You shared stories about your childhoods, your favorite books, and even silly things like the kinds of music you liked. Your laughter was infectious, and he found himself opening up in a way he rarely did with anyone. There was a lightness to the way you spoke, a genuine interest in everything he had to say, and it made him feel like he was finally allowed to be more than just the CEO, more than just the father. For the first time in a long while, he felt… seen.

"I have to admit," you said, your smile turning playful, "I’ve always been curious about what it’s like to run a company. I mean, you’re so busy with meetings and traveling, right? How do you manage it all?"

Seungcheol leaned forward, intrigued by your question. "It’s not easy, but it’s all about balance. Finding time for the things that matter—work, yes, but also family. And now," he added, his eyes softening as they met yours, "I’m starting to think I need to make more time for things like this."

You blinked, your eyes wide as you took in his words. "Things like this?"

he hesitated for a moment before replying, his voice quieter now. "Things like… spending time with you. I know it’s unexpected, but I really enjoy these moments we’ve been sharing—getting to know you, and seeing the way you care for Seungwoo. It’s been… refreshing."

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his words, and you looked down for a moment, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "I didn’t expect that," you said, a bit shyly. "But I’m glad you feel that way. I think there’s something special about the time we’ve spent together too. You and Seungwoo have a warmth to you that’s hard to ignore."

Seungcheol smiled at your response, feeling a sudden surge of hope in his chest. This wasn’t just a fleeting moment, he realized. There was something genuine here—something that he wanted to explore further.

The coffee date continued into the evening, the conversation never running dry. You talked about everything and nothing, the kind of easy companionship that made time seem to stand still. By the time you finished your drinks, you both knew one thing for certain: you wanted more of this.

As he stood up to leave, he took a step closer to you. "I’m really glad we did this," he said, his voice sincere. "And, um… if you’re free again sometime, maybe we could do it again?"

You smiled warmly, your eyes lighting up at his words. "I’d love that."

His heart raced at the thought, but there was a calmness to it now, a certainty. He had known, even before he asked, that this was just the beginning of something. The connection between you two was undeniable, and he was more than ready to explore it.

"How about next weekend?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Next weekend sounds perfect," you replied with a smile that made his chest swell with warmth.

As you walked out of the café together, side by side, he felt like something had shifted, not just in the world around him, but within himself. Maybe it was because of the way you made him feel—like he was more than just a CEO, more than just a father. Maybe it was the quiet moments, like the ones you shared over coffee, that made him realize how much you had been missing.

And as you parted ways that night, a promise unspoken hung in the air– that this was only the beginning.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! › anonymous review form

honestly inspired by real life.. somehow, i'm just obsessed with one of the little one where i teach - he so adorable

@ credits┆big thanks to @tusswrites for beta & proof reading, one of my much needed grammar saviours ☆彡

❀ a/n┆ finally on vacations - happy holidays everyone

☘︎ taglist: @zozojella

‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip"🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

[cherry-coloureddfunk]

IMAGINE BEING LOVED BY ME, bfd!joel miller

summary, no matter what you'd always end up in the bed of your boyfriend's father

warnings, p in v, cheating (duh not cool but when joel miller tempts u it is!), daddy kink if you squint, a teensy bit of fingering, fat age gap between joel and reader, keeping up with the canon that joel's son is named jack but hes a dick in this sorry, not proof read

wc, 2k

note, joel miller is the type of fine that physically pains me to think about... i was thinking about making this a series because i love these two so much but we'll see :)

Joel Miller hated nights.

 He hated how he could never seem to fall asleep no matter how hard he tried. He hated the sliver of moonlight that seeped in through the blinds of his bedroom, almost taunting him with the agonizingly slow routine of the moon when all he wanted was for the sun to make its return. He hated the silence too– though it wasn’t the silence he appreciated during slow mundane mornings; it was the kind that was almost suffocating forcing him to confront every thought he tried burying during the day. 

The blur of all the restless nights he’d spent alone bled into one another as he found your warmth replacing the cool, bare sheets of his king. 

He was fucked up, and he knew that. 

No matter which angle he approached it with, he knew. There wasn't any justification for his actions— not that he ever tried. As someone who gave and gave time after time again you’d think he would be able to cut himself some slack. 

Not when it came to the privilege of a pretty thing like you waiting to sneak in between his sheets– with the moon only as witness after his son would fall asleep. 

“Missed ya.” Is all he says as he nuzzles his face into the dip of your neck. He breathes every ounce of you in, and when he exhales, you giggle softly at the light air that tickles your skin. His hand that had been resting in between your thighs drifts upward to slip under your shirt. His hands grazed your nipple lightly, and he stifled a groan. 

“I have to close the door.” You remind him, though it comes out as a whisper when you feel him start to grope your breasts. 

He shakes his head, “Don’t.” He guides your steps until your back hits his bed. His mouth ghosts over your neck, peppering feather-light kisses on your skin. 

“Joel, what if he hears?” You whisper so quietly you aren’t even sure you’d said it aloud– but you must’ve since he answers. 

“Guess you’ll just hafta be quiet then.” His closed-mouth kisses turn into open-mouthed ones, conscious enough not to leave any visible marks, just saliva in their wake. He places a wet kiss on your Adam's apple, trailing upwards to the underside of your jaw until he gets to your lips. One of his hands moves the hair out of your eyes so you can see him as he places his lips against yours. It’s a silent admission, and he doesn’t have to say anything for you to understand. This is how it’s supposed to be. This. You, here. With me. 

His chapped lips rub against your own;  a sloppy semblance of a dance. Opening up a bit, you let him slot his tongue into your mouth. He tastes of faint mint toothpaste as he spreads the artificial flavor in your mouth. Your hand twines in his curly hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to yourself. No matter how close he’d get, it would never be enough. You’d always want more. 

He presses himself into you, feeling his hardened length through his boxers. He moves against you slowly, his eyes open, watching every scrunch of your nose, the furrow of your brow, and the ‘O’ shape you make with your mouth. You moan into him. The friction of his movements against your clit causes you to move your face to the side and voice your pleasure. His hand darts to cover your mouth, not giving up his agonizing ruts against your center. 

“Gotta be quiet, babygirl.” He reminds you with a tone that’s in between gentle and stern. You nod, and his hand moves from your mouth, drifting between your bodies. He slips past your panties, using his index finger to drag past your folds and collect your slick. His finger glistens under the moonlight that slips in past the window blinds. He holds it out in front of himself, eyes trained on yours as he brings it to his mouth. He let out a shameless groan against his finger, working his tongue to ensure none had gone to waste, “You have no idea how sweet this pussy is, y’wanna taste, baby?” 

You stare at him with big eyes and without a second thought you nodded, unable to speak even if you wanted to. The corners of his mouth tugged into a crooked smile. He brought the finger that had previously been in his mouth to your lips. The pad of his finger traced your bottom lip, feeling the groves that made up the skin there. You opened up a bit, trying your best to capture his finger in your mouth. Your efforts fell short as he dragged his finger to catch the inside of your bottom lip. He was doing this on purpose. You felt incredibly hot– his heavy breathing on your skin seemed to be the only thing to cool you down. Finally, he leaned in, catching his lips with yours once more. He shoved his tongue in slowly, causing you to moan at the taste of yourself in his mouth. 

“Perfect.” He pulled away whispering against your lips, like it was a secret just between the two of you, the way you melted in his arms made his head rush, “Every inch.”

You sighed, letting your head rest on his neck as you tried to catch your breath, “M’sorry I didn't come yesterday, he stayed up all night playing with his friends but I swear I thought about you every–”

“Don’t you ever be sorry about somethin’ like that. S’not your fault baby.” He stops you by bringing his large hand up from between your bodies to cup the side of your face, it’s almost comical how it almost covers the entire surface, “Just want some attention, hm? My sweet girl always thinkin’ of me.” 

A part of him worried about the nights you never showed up but he would never tell you that. You weren't his and you weren't able to sneak off as much as he wanted you to. The nights you were a no show always left Joel with that nagging voice in the back of his head that probed at him taunting, you didn’t want this anymore. Of course he’d respect your decision if it ever came down to that. He was older than you, lived more than enough of his life, and a wife that up and left as soon as she’d brought their son into this world to show for it. 

You made it easy to forget all of that, and if it were up to him you’d both stay in his bed for as long as you’d have him. 

His lips brushed the top of your head, “You’re here with me now s’all that matters.” 

You lifted your head up to see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he held you tight like this was just some sick dream and he was a perverted old man for lusting over his own son’s girlfriend. But he wasn’t because you were real and you were here and fuck you were perfect.

Joel stood up, his hands finding your ankles and you let out a soft giggle as he pulled you toward him allowing your legs to dangle off the side of his king. He smiled softly standing in between your thighs, allowing his hand to run up and down the inside of them. 

“Joel.” You sigh, reaching out for him always hating any purposeful distance between the both of you. You wanted all of him, “Can you kiss me?”

He caves like he always does for you. Bending down one hand on the inside of your thigh as the other travels up to rest his palm against your face as he leans in for another kiss. He kisses with fervor it’s slow as he takes his time with his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, gently nibbling down on your bottom lip when he pulls away, “Wanna make you cum for me babygirl.”

“Y’gonna let me do that for you?” He asks breathlessly, hand slipping past your pajama shorts and over your panties.  

You nod your eyes wide, the contact causing you to buck into his hand. 

“Needy little thing… S’what you are huh?” He ran his fingers over your wetness and let out a groan at the feeling of your warmth before pulling his hand back entirely, “Tell me what y’want sweet girl.”

“Want you inside me Joel.” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded. When it came to Joel Miller you had zero shame, “Wanna feel you here.” 

His eyes darkened, following the hand that pressed just above your lower stomach. He replaced yours with his own, pressing down gently with a groan. His other hand pulled down your pajama shorts along with your panties down just enough so he could see your core. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled, “S’what my sweet girl wants?’

You nodded at his words, eyes focused on his face alone. You hadn’t even registered that he had pulled his boxers down; the hand that had previously been inside of you along with your juices was now around his cock. He lazily stroked it peering down at you with a crooked smile. 

“Gonna fuck you baby– Gonna– Fuck– Gonna feel me so deep.” He gripped his length as he rested the tip at your entrance, gently running the tip along your opening, collecting the juices there, “S’that what you need? T’feel daddy deep inside you?”

You nodded.

“Tell me.” His tone took on a desperate one, “Tell me you need it baby.” 

“Always need you Daddy– Need it inside me. Wanna feel it deep inside.” You whined at the feeling of him rubbing his tip against your entrance knowing he could easily slip inside if he wanted to. 

Joel pushed himself inside, as moans like sighs of relief sounded from both of your chests. He stilled for a moment enjoying how perfect this moment was. Your chest heaving heavily as you peered at him with glazed eyes. Fucking ethereal. 

He wanted you to feel it– the feeling of being so full in more ways than one. How perfectly he fits inside you– the shape and every ridge of his cock. You were made for it– made for him. 

His hands gripped your thighs lifting them so he’d be able to reach you at a perfect angle and began to pound into you at harsh speed. His thrusts were deep as they shook your pliant body on the bed,  yet again another reminder of the differences between your boyfriend and his father. You’d never really felt loved when you’d have sex with Jack– It was more or less an experience for him than you. He just wanted to empty himself inside of you, never really wanting to make sure you enjoyed yourself. After finding yourself in Joel’s bed one rainy evening, it only made sense that his giving nature bled over into the bedroom. By the time the storm cleared, you knew this wouldn’t be a one time occurrence. 

“He doesn’t deserve you babygirl.” He groaned against your neck, he’d been so lost in the feeling of you around him he wasn’t able to stop himself from leaving marks on your body. He sucked into your skin, kissing and licking the pain away. The sound of his skin smacking against yours as he fucked into you with such vigor made you disregard it completely, “Want everyone to know you n’this sweet pussy belong to me.”

Everything he did always made your head spin. The combination of the sweet words and his musky scent that was just so inherently Joel made you light headed. Him saying you belong to him was just confirming words you felt linger in the air between you when this whole ordeal started. 

“Tell me.” He moaned, trying to delay the steady approach of his orgasm. He didn’t want this to end, “I need it.” He urged you, and you looked down to see him thrusting in and out of you. You moaned at the sight of your hole taking all of him inside of you. Joel caught you by surprise when he leaned down to capture your lips, biting on your bottom lip as he continued to fuck into you with the same harsh pace he’d set previously. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you’d begun to cry until his large hand wiped the tears from your eyes. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were glossy. He loved that he was the one making you feel this way– absolutely wrecked. 

His hand went to your clit, rubbing it as he fucked into you with fervor, “Tell me you’re mine.” 

You were close and he could tell. 

“Please” He begged, the desperation in his voice made you clench around him, “Need to hear you say it sweet girl.” 

You didn’t know what to do. His hand came to wipe the tears from your eyes, fucking you harder, making sure you felt him and every roll of his hips. Your legs wrapped around him in an effort to get him impossibly closer to you than he was already. This new angle allowed him to get even deeper inside of you. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you looked into his eyes though it had been said many times over before for the first time you said, “I’m yours Joel.” 

“And m’yours baby.” He whined into your mouth, “All yours– Fuck– No one elses’ you own me.” 

It seemed like your tears came out tenfold at the statement, the overwhelming sense of pleasure– of love and care. His hips started to stutter but he tried to push through, and you let out a strangled cry as the feeling in your stomach intensified at the realization; 

You owned Joel Miller.

“I own you.” You repeated back in a whine-confirmation, your voice still unsure if you’d even heard him right.

“M’ all yours sweet girl never been anyone else’s.” Joel responded with a moan. It was foreign to the both of you, a sense of vulnerability you’d experienced with anyone before and it’d obviously been far too long since Joel had let someone in the way he let you. 

But he was willing for you. 

“Fuck– Im– m’gonna cum Joel.”

Your orgasm wracked through your body before you could get another word out.  You cried into his shoulder, nails digging harshly into his back as you garbled unintelligible words.

The look on your face was enough to send him over the edge, giving one last thrust he buried himself to the hilt as he peered down to see where your two bodies met. The only thing he was able to make out was the curly hair at the base of his cock as he emptied himself inside of you with a strangled groan. His eyes quickly found yours to communicate you both already knew;

I know, I felt it too. 

After he’d cleaned you up he peppered your face in soft kisses, wrapping his arms around you. He laid there with you, enjoying the feeling of you snuggled warmly against his chest. 

You looked at him like you always did. The aquiline shape of his nose and grey whiskers that made up his facial hair. 

He was beautiful in a way that felt beyond your grasp, as if the very essence of it existed in a language you’d never learn to speak.

Then he softly looked down at your face that rested on his bare chest,  his hand found yours, a quiet plea in his touch.

‘Don’t sleep with him,’ he whispered, his voice steady but filled with something deeper, something unspoken, “Stay– stay with me tonight.” 

After a long pause, you simply nodded.

“Okay."

[oukabarsburgblr]

Marriage Troubles [Consort AU] Pt. I

FEATURING : PRINCE DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x CONSORT male reader

An arranged marriage doesn't always go well. Daisuke Yuichi finds himself engaged to a foreign man for the sake of global peace. What he thought was a well-mannered man was a venomous snake once its shed. Just how long will our prince withstand rebellious remarks from our bold reader?

morally grey reader, angry sex, profile

Find out more under the cut!

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

Well that wouldn't be far from the truth. The older man dressed in regal clothing wondered why was that famous quote stamped behind the cover of a children's book.

Mimicking the atmosphere of the early morning, the ambience in the room, corners carved stone, marble-plated floor reflected the owner itself. A young child in a loose white gown sat clad in the man's lap. His black glinting eyes skimming through the words of the book that he barely knew half of the meaning to.

"Now now Daisuke, would you like me to continue last night's story or will we have it back at the start?" The man, who had similar black hair and eyes, even their faces were identical, smiled down at the child who enthusiastically flipped the pages back and forth.

The child, Daisuke Yuichi, looked up to him with a gleam. "Start over please, father!" His gummy smile made his father flutter inside as he kissed the crown of his hair.

"As you wish, my child. Long ago, there was a kingdom, grandeur and divine with its posessions, their territory vast and protected, their people happy and full. And the kingdom had a prince!" The man looked down at his son and whispered. "That's you."

Daisuke grinned, as if he hadn't heard this story for the nth time. "And the prince was kind and handsome, well-loved by his king and well-loved by the subjects."

The story continued to weave through its plot, a young prince and his adventures in the kingdom and Daisuke listened attentively to his father's calming narrative voice. It wasn't until the romance had kicked in that he was excited the most.

"And far, far away...there was a princess." Daisuke squealed, covering his face as he wooed over the 2D drawing of a blonde pink-dressed princess on the page. "The princess, amazed by the prince's brave gesture, fell for the prince as she bestowed her hand."

"The prince took her hand, placing a gentle loving kiss on her ring finger, and they went to both kingdoms. With hope to unite their love and their kingdoms together." The man swiped his son's hair back, caressing his strands softly as he turned the last page.

"The prince and princess married and lived happily ever after!"

Daisuke cheered, reading the last printed page as he leaned back onto his father. "Will I find a princess one day?" The man kissed his son's hair again. "I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding a spouse. A fine young man you'll be and with it, a fine young princess will come to be."

The child turned around in his father's hold, the morning light now bright and lightening up the room.

Daisuke smiled to himself, while hugging his father, his heart full of hope and dream to find love too. Love as pure as a swan's feather and as sweet as a birthday cake. Ever since, he yearned for his fated one to unite with him as long years had come to pass by.

-

The room had changed, furnitures replaced with more mature ones, a large regal couch and a marble coffee table in the middle. A big vanity across his bed with bedside table customised with gold and silver, all gifted and bestowed by his father, the emperor of their kingdom.

Fifteen years had passed and the once child had now grown into a fine young man. Said man was adjusting his white cravat with a pin holding a Tourmaline gem at its center.

"What do I have in store for today?" His voice was rich, deep while showcasing the youth he had but the tone mature and intelligent as a scholar.

"His Majesty requests for your audience for morning tea later in half an hour. Then, a few of the ministers will be present in the West Wing. Your Highness will have a chance to confer while on the way to meet the Council's Representative. Lessons are as normal, horse riding with the instructor in the evening and lastly,"

The royal secretary closed his leather book, adjusting his glasses. Two guards were also stationed in the room, an iron plate on their chests with the kingdom's insignia with a few other maids working about and all of them knew what the secretary was about to say.

"Your Highness' meeting with your betrothed."

Silence followed, some of the staffs peeking to see what expression the man was feigning. Daisuke smiled, satisfied with his cravat. "Thank you, Sir Ivan. I'm off to meet my father then." All of them bowed to their waists, as Daisuke walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the halls.

It wasn't a secret that he was recently engaged with another, a foreigner from another kingdom. Not royal but still of high society.

"I sincerely hope you are faring well with the news. If you wish to find another, then I will engage with Emperor Aurelius to form another treaty-"

"All is fine, father." Daisuke smiled, sipping at the cup of tea with the emperor across him sitting in the lounge furniture. His father, the emperor pursed his lips, his face was showing telltale signs of age but he was still strong as the sovereign of the kingdom. His heart worries for his son.

"I'm sure we'll match well together. Regardless of the circumstances." Daisuke had a polite expression, respecting his father and his choices for their reign.

Two kingdoms, from the North East and the West wanted to align with one another. However, due to conflicting politics and past histories, the easiest way for peace is a hand in marriage.

Similar to the East, there was only one heir to the throne in the West so Daisuke, the prince of the North East had to marry a son of the duke. Daisuke had never met nor heard of the man. It wasn't uncommon for emperors to take in male concubines but it wasn't the norm for them to marry a man either.

Daisuke didn't mind the status, he just hoped that his first marriage would go well, unlike his father's and the previous Empress.

Time passed and after congratulations from politicians and acquaintances alike, the time had come for him to meet his fiance. He was again adorned in a royal blue suit with tassels and gems as he stood at the steps of the palace, to greet the arrival of his engaged.

"...I think we should step inside, Your Highness." His loyal knight prodded, unable to see the face Daisuke was expressing. It had been some time and the sun was dimming, signaling nightfall and his fiance and the West delegates were still not showing any signs of approach.

In other words, he had been stood up.

"...Let's." There was a slight irritation in his voice before he recomposed himself, thanking his attendants and his knights for waiting beside him for naught.

Even the dinner that was supposed to be between him and his fiance was cancelled and words reached his ears that the entourage had encroached 'unforeseen circumstances' and will be residing elsewhere other than the palace.

It was disrespectful, arrogant almost to discredit the efforts of the royals, although the secretary had been the one to arranged, but Daisuke ultimately decided to give the benefit of the doubt to his fiance. Even the dinner he that he ate alone, that was supposed to have with his fiance tasted stale. He laid in his bed, his heart beating out of his chest as he thought of meeting his soon-to-be consort.

-

A few days past and not a word from the envoy nor the convoy itself and the emperor was about to send a rescue team to find the missing fiance until the Sapphire Palace were lively and in a ruckus.

Daisuke had simply passed by the Sapphire Palace, a few miles away from the gates and he had seen the insignia of the West Duchy and it was enough for him to notice that his fiance's entourage had arrived.

There was quite a commotion, footmen arguing with each other despite the language barrier and all seemed to be out of hand until the man of the hour himself stepped out of the carriage and began to converse with the royal staff.

"It's him. The one with (h/c) hair. He's your fiance." Ivan whispered to Daisuke, who was burning his eyes into the blurry figure draped in luxurious clothes. Beside him were numerous servants who were holding what appeared to be-

"Are those shopping bags?" Black eyes zeroed in on the multitudes of items that originated from his own country.

His loyal knight beside him chipped in. "Looks like our guest went on a little shopping spree." The prince frowned, thinking that the reason why their arrival was late was that his fiance wanted to go sightseeing.

He held back a retort, still trying to hold some ensemble of peace for their upcoming marriage before the (h/c) turn his back around to lock eyes with Daisuke.

His breath hitched and his heart skipped a beat as he stared into (e/c) eyes, although he was far, no amount of distance could fog the treasure cove of beauty the man behold.

"He's...beautiful..."

The knight beside him raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness?" "Pardon me." Daisuke coughed into a fist as he quickly looked away when a servant whispered into the (h/c)'s ear as they continued to stare at them.

The prince quickly walked away, continuing with his errands before he would be swept away in the alluring pools of (e/c).

Even after indulging in his evening activities, his mind could not rid of the starry (e/c), he hadn't even seen his face up close yet Daisuke was already enthralled.

"Fucking hell..." He cursed to himself, clad in his bathrobe with his face coated with a honey face mask. Tomorrow was doomsday.

The wedding that would unite the two nations. There was no official delegate from the royals of the West although there was enough from the duchy of (l/n) and one of the reason itself that he still hadn't met his fiance face to face was because it was taboo for couples to spend the night before the wedding.

Although it was most likely to prevent premarital pregnancy so he doesn't know how it would work with his groom. Traditions are traditions, it wouldn't harm either party hopefully.

Maybe and just maybe his dream of having a tender-love marriage could still come arise. Although something else had arose underneath his robe.

"..." Daisuke shamefully walked his way to his lavish lavatory.

-

The prince wasn't particularly involved in the preparation of the wedding. His father had offered to let his own royal advisor to arrange the venue and the ceremony itself. Probably as a way to apologise at the fact that he had to drag his son's love life into politics.

Daisuke had only let them be. Chipping in once or twice about the colour scheme, what type of flowers he preferred at the altar and whatnot but overall, he would just walk down the aisle, say yes to the dress and get a move on.

His fiance was most likely not involved as well. Speaking of, he felt his hands getting clammy under the fitted white gloves he wore, oddly nervous of matrimonal ceremony. Will he be a good husband? Will his groom had accepted the fact that they were wedded for politics? This was far in contrast with his fairytale dream.

The venue was already bustling with other royals, aristocrats, upper-crust gentrys sitting in the rows and rows of seating that was behind the closed grand door. Daisuke was standing right before it.

His attire was perfect. Supervised by his own father, he was clad in a commander's full dress uniform, navy hues with tassles, emblems and medals strike across his chest. His black hair slicked back with gel with minimal powder on his face and a little bit of lip tint and blush to bring colour to his pale face.

The most handsome man of the century, was what his father said when he had a private showing with Daisuke. The emperor also mentioned that he had already met the duke's son, his fiance, and only uttered.

"Goodluck, Yuichi. A feisty one, he is."

Daisuke didn't particularly like his teasing tone but brushed it off nonetheless. His secretary was right next to him, checking his attire and whispering to a servant's ear.

"Presenting the son of the Western Duchy, Lord (m/n) (l/n)."

That instantly snapped Daisuke out of his stupor as he turned around, heels clicking on the ceramic floor and he found his breath stolen away once again.

Beautiful was an understatement, the (h/c) himself was majestic to look upon. It should cost jewels for one to even bestow their eyes on the duke's son.

That was the thought that was running through Daisuke's mind when he laid his eyes upon his groom.

A gentle smile on his face that clearly had makeup like his but somehow, his (s/c) skin was glowing even more than his pale counterparts.

Dressed in a white three-piece suit, golden and cream highlights with a notch lapel and a light blue satin puff tie. His pants were a matching white as well, black silky dress shoes with intricates hand-drawn on the red soles.

Across his chest were gold chains from the lapel to his right breast pocket and small gemstones were dangling, a sign of his wealth. He had cufflinks that were the same shade of Daisuke's navy uniform.

His lips were painted with a glossy pink-red tint, matching his undertone and there were a slight edge of eyeliner on the corner of his eyes. Suddenly, Daisuke felt like the makeup he wore wasn't enough.

Finally, the steps came to a halt and his fiance stood right in front of him, craning his neck down to greet the prince.

"Good morning, Your Highness." His voice sounded sultry and alluring, at least to his ears and he had stared at the (h/c) once again until Ivan had coughed loudly bringing him back to reality.

"Good morning, Lord...(l/n)." "(m/n) is just fine." The smile he adorned was appealing and it struck Daisuke in the right places in his chest as he faced the grand doors, the audience behind them suddenly quieting down and he felt a hand slinking to hold onto his arm.

"Let's get married, shall we?"

(m/n) (l/n) looked to him with that polite smile again and Daisuke felt his heart flutter as he nodded in return, leading their intertwined steps together.

The grand doors pushed open and an organ followed, oscillating the wind to the tune of a marriage union. An ensemble of choir sang, bringing a light atmosphere suitable for the wedding of a royal.

The pair walked down the aisle together in slow steps, Daisuke smiling at the guests, mostly familliar faces to his left although he couldn't recognise the ones on his right, (m/n)'s side that filled with foreign ministers from other kingdoms.

"I hope we didn't cause you too much trouble with my late arrival."

(m/n)'s whisper caught him off guard as he slightly peered to his right, the (h/c) still smiling and he whispered back.

"It didn't cause much but I would've hoped for an earlier introduction." He could hear almost a giggle from his groom. "We had some...run-ins."

Daisuke raised an eyebrow at that. "I saw the outlet bags. I suppose our country is fine with riches that you couldn't help yourself?"

It was quiet from the (h/c) and Daisuke felt like the walk to the altar was taking forever until they reached the podium and the officiator bowed to them.

"Dearly beloved, we have all gathered here today..."

"Your kingdom has many intricates our own lacked. I couldn't help but had a few stops." (m/n) hushly retorted, it had an apologetic tone.

Daisuke chuckled at that, suddenly all of his annoyance washed away. "I suppose a proper tour should be in order."

"...Are you not irate, Your Highness?" They both turned facing each other as the ring bearer, Daisuke's third baby cousin stepping forward to hand the small velveted ringboxes.

"I'm not, currently." Daisuke swiftly took (m/n)'s ring out of the box, a 12-carat sapphire and diamond cluster, and gently took the groom's hand and slid it on his ring finger. "As long as you're already here, all goes well for me."

There was a moment of silence from (m/n), who quietly took Daisuke's ring, an Oval Blue Sapphire, 18-carat white diamond cluster, pulled his white glove off and pushed the ring onto his finger, lightly squeezing his hand.

When Daisuke raised his eyes from their now holding hands with ringed fingers, he looked to (m/n)'s face, expecting to see the usual polite smile but there was instead a smirk accompanied with a devilish glint behind those (e/c) that was quickly brushed away with his usual facade.

"I'm glad."

"...What was-"

"Your Royal Highness, Prince Daisuke Yuichi, will you take Lord (m/n) (l/n) to be your lawfully wedded husband." The officiator cut in as he waited for Daisuke to speak who in turn stammered accidentally.

"I-I do." He coughed to himself, slightly embarassed as the old officiator held a reassuring smile.

"And you, Lord (m/n) from the (l/n) Dukedom. Will you take His Highness, Prince Daisuke Yuichi to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"...I do." There was a drag in the first syllable, and he smoothly finished the rest of his testimony that made something curl in Daisuke's stomach.

The prince didn't even notice the priest' next words as (m/n) suddenly leaned in to kiss him by his lips. He quite literally took his breath away, Daisuke sucking in a quick breath before deepening the kiss and pressing his hand into (m/n)'s lower back.

There were cheers, clapping in celebration of the two kingdom's union, at the expense of their own.

Daisuke pulled away and gazed into (e/c). "We're going to have so much fun." He swore he could have heard the (h/c) murmured amongst the applause the audience were imparting. He looked to the crowd, his eyes meeting his father, who was in a grander seat than the rest, nodded slowly at him.

-

The ceremony passed by quick, he had to stand on the grand podium with guests passing by in turn to greet and congratulate the new couple, (m/n) patiently still beside him, linking their arms together. Daisuke would shoot glances but a commonwealth would converse with him every now and then.

Cake-cutting and more public affection and finally were they allowed to retire to the Grand Palace. Although Daisuke had to part from his new consort who waved goodbye at him as they got ready to move into the Emerald Palace. The prince stared at the carriage leaving him and his knights behind.

Both his secretary and his knight congratulating him with his marriage with Ivan reminding him of their private dinner that night.

"I hope you do remember of your meal together that was much delayed." Daisuke nodded, unbuttoning his collar in the rocky carriage. "I do." "As well as your marriage culmination?"

"Culmina-?" "Consummating in other terms."

"..." Oh.

Ivan rolled his eyes at his silly prince whose cheeks turned pink at the heavy reminder.

-

Night has fallen and it seemed another tentative was due. The prince, checked his white loose tucked blouse he had worn along with black slacks that had silver chains pinned on the sides of his waist.

He had came much earlier than suggested, his knight asking whether he was nervous although the prince declined the indication, there was a hint of hesitance in his heart.

The cutlery was laid out on the table decorated with lace and multiple candelabra, lit up just for the occasion. It was a private dinner, just the two of them, supposedly, away from peering eyes and as a moment of intimacy for the newlyweds.

"It seems you're here early, Your Highness."

Daisuke stood from his chair, the wooden foot dragging against the carpeted floor. "Your Grace." (m/n) bowed to his now husband, along with his attendant as the door that was opened for his entry now closed by the guards who stood watch outside.

He was wearing a maroon dressing gown that dragged on the carpeted floor with a striking necklace that fit snugly around his neck.

"I hope I wasn't late, again to our tryst." "A tryst?" (m/n) frowned, pouting. "Does the prince not consider me so?"

Daisuke smiled, feeling abashed as he steeled himself. He walked over behind the (h/c), pulling up a chair and pushed it to the front while (m/n) seated himself. "If you wish." He whispered into the consort's ear before returning into his own.

He could feel a glare burning into the side of his head from the consort as butlers and maids began to serve their four-course meal. Plates and bottles of wine were presented and the servants stood behind the royals for any amendments needed.

The mahogany table was rectangular. (m/n) was sitting on the longer part of it, more to the edge while Daisuke had sat at head of the table. They were close to each other but with enough space to dine. Daisuke had requested so.

"I believed I hadn't met your father yet. I heard of what a great man he was. Was he present during the reception?" Daisuke began the dinner, taking a silver knife and began to cut into the steak on his plate.

(m/n) followed accordingly, opting to drink some of the wine first. "None of my family members were present, Your Highness. They're all booked with their own schedules."

"Oh. I'm sorry that happened." Daisuke cringed to himself, worried that he might've had offended his consort. "No no, it's fine." The (h/c) waved it off.

"I'm sure Your Highness will get to meet them some other time." That polite smile stretched across (m/n)'s face again. That odd expression.

"Please don't refer to me as a prince at all times. We are bound together in matrimony." He called a butler to pour a glass of sparkling water for himself.

(e/c) eyes gazed at the decanting before trailing back to Daisuke's black ones. "...If so, then may I request for us to be truly...private?"

The butler that was serving Daisuke a glass seemed to freeze in hesitation. He looked to his prince for confirmation and Daisuke nodded. The man stepped back, bowed and exited the dinner hall along with the other servants who spoke their greetings and trickled out of the venue in an orderly manner.

Daisuke was about to grab the bottle, to finish pouring his half-full glass before he felt fingers curling around the back of his hand.

"Let me." (m/n) smiled again, stood and delicately poured the beverage into the glass, just enough that it almost spilled over the edge. The prince quirked an eyebrow at the gesture as he carefully took the glass and sipped on the water.

"Thank you, Lord-" "(m/n)." "...(m/n)."

He felt his heart pounding again, like the first time they had met but it was different. It didn't had that nervous beat of meeting a loved one. The butterflies in his stomach wasn't due to excitement, it was like screaming at him that something was wrong-

"Have you never ventured to the West, my prince? I don't think I've ever seen you around any social events." (m/n) slumped back in his seat, poking at his food. Daisuke was a tad confused at the change of demeanour but brushed it off.

"I do travel to the West sometimes but the only events I attended were for militia intents." (e/c) rolled and the consort scoffed. "Politics. How boring."

"...Excuse me?"

It took a moment for (m/n) to stare up at the chandelier above them, responsible for lighting the whole room. He pushed himself to stand and slowly walked over to the switch that had kept it alight.

(m/n) pulled the lever down, instantly darkening the room. Daisuke squinted his eyes, adjusting to the low brightness that was only exhibited by the multiple candelabra.

"That feels much better, doesn't it?"

He almost flinched when he found the (h/c) sitting right beside him, his elbows on the table and his hands cupping his chin. (e/c) eyes peering into his. "...Were you there when they decided on our marriage, Prince Daisuke?"

His tone was off, very off, different than what the prince was used to. "...No. My father had been the one to agree, as proposed by Emperor Aurelius." "...That old geezer."

(m/n) clicked his tongue and reached out to his wine glass, instantly downing almost half of the cup, shocking Daisuke. "He always wanted to get rid of me. So scared, paranoid that I would somehow take over his empire that his ancestors built. Scared that I would seduce his son to give the throne over to me that fucking-"

He paused and smiled back to Daisuke. "So. Princey." (m/n) plucked a grape from a plate and popped it into his mouth. "What do you want from this marriage?"

Daisuke was taken aback, had this been the true nature of the second son of the West Duchy? He hesitated for a moment before retorting. "...What do I want?" "Yes."

A glimmer of hatred flashed across (e/c) who took another swig of the wine. "It is impossible for you to accept the offer without wanting something in return. What's the catch?"

"There is no catch." Daisuke pressed, almost losing his composure at the accusation he was presented. "I'm in the same position as you are, I can guarantee you."

"I truly don't care whether you were present or not when the contract of peace was signed. My...hand in marriage was given away for some..." His (e/c) scanned Daisuke up and down with judgement.

"...man." He smiled, again.

The prince took a deep breath, regaining his maturity as he sighed to himself. "Even if there was some catch, all I ask is peace." He gazed at the consort. "Between us."

"..." The consort looked bored for a moment and it was eating away at Daisuke's patience.

"When do we start?" The prince perked up at the consort's ask. "Start what exactly?" He sipped on his glass.

"The sex."

He spat out what was fresh sparkling water to his left, avoiding the consort who only glared, unimpressed at the coughing prince. "T-That was abrupt." He hit his chest a few times to get the water out of his system.

"...you sound inexperienced."

"I prefer not to reveal myself." (m/n) hummed as he clicked his tongue before he spoke. "I must warn you, though."

Daisuke felt nervous again, his heart rate speeding at the sight of (e/c) burning into his.

"You're not the first man to warm my bed."

-

Muffles of cursing and moans were discernable in the dim dinner hall. The food that was plated now cold, Daisuke having another means in his mouth.

(m/n) was in his lap, hiking up his gown, and sat plush, his legs folded as he continued to enfold the prince's senses with inching thrill, making out with the flustered prince. "Mmnn- hah huff..." Daisuke panted, pulling back and his pants tight with his erection, his back tense against the cushion of the chair and his hands clenching the armrests.

The (h/c) was staring him down, the corner of his lips leaking spit as he licked another stripe up the prince's cheek. "You seem nervous, have you never had an entertainer on you before?"

His mind was hazy and warm, his skin almost burning as he huffed. "Your tongue, you speak my language well." Daisuke didn't know why he asked that. Maybe he needed a distraction other than how (m/n)'s tongue was probably the hottest thing that entered his mouth.

"I studied your culture as soon as I received the announcement. And I had help from a couple of your subjects..." (m/n) purred, smirking. His hands slinked down Daisuke's chest until it reached the strings of his collar.

"But that's not the point now, is it?"

He ripped Daisuke's shirt with his hands, exposing the large chest underneath. The prince stammered, his hands shaky as (m/n) readjusted his position to sit his ass directly on the ravenette's clothed cock.

"Now how does the Prince of the East spend his nights?" He whispered sultrily, trailing his lips across Daisuke's neck. "I don't...typically-"

The prince's words were cut off with a moan. His own moan when the (h/c) began to grind himself on Daisuke's crotch. "Don't lie to me." (m/n) smiled. "Would His Royal Highness like to take it up the ass?"

He pressed a deep kiss to the prince's cheek before gazing deeply into his eyes. "Or does he prefer swinging his hips?" Daisuke pursed his lips together, his heart officially beating out of his chest as his hands finally had the courage to grab on (m/n)'s waist.

"I'm not bottoming." His answer was firm, determined to top. "..." (m/n) only gazed at him with an unimpressed look. "You couldn't even conquer me." The (h/c) whispered.

Suddenly, the grinding became more rough. (m/n) closed his eyes and threw his head back, circling and pressing his bottom down on Daisuke's erection. "F-Fuck mmn!" The prince panicked a bit before tightening his grip as the consort grinded himself down on the ravenette.

"Ahn! Ahh mmnn-" The (h/c)'s moans were loud and elaborate. It confused Daisuke as (m/n) gritted his teeth. He experimentally hovered his lips over the consort's neck. "I'm gonna- I'm going to cu-"

A slap echoed in the small room, shocking Daisuke. He was stunned, a small tingling on his left cheek with (m/n) staring at him unimpressed. "You think I'm that easy to cum?"

The (h/c) glared at the prince, scrutinizing him. "..." Daisuke could only stare in silence, his cheek reddening. "I..."

(m/n) propped his own chin on his left palm. "Hey. Are you actually a virgin?" His tone seemed disappointed, angry even. "I've heard the Prince of the East rejecting advances but I didn't think it'd be this dire. Your face shouldn't be a problem but how so?"

"..." Was this his true colors? Daisuke only wanted a peaceful marriage but all hopes of his fairytale seemed to vanish at the sight of the (h/c).

(m/n) waited for an answer from Daisuke who was hesitant to respond. "I just thought that...your first night should be with someone special." "Oh. You're one of those, huh. A sweetheart."

The (h/c) pried himself off of the prince, staggering in the dim room. "Listen here, prince. I don't care if you want me to carry out my marital duties. But don't bother me nor stand in my way," He trotted to the doors of the dining room.

"And I won't stand in yours."

He kicked the door open, shocking a few guards and left the prince alone. Daisuke stared at the agape door, palming his cheek wondering what the hell did he got into.

Their consummation night was scrapped. Daisuke sitting alone in the bed of their shared bedroom, screaming into the pillow with his still hard erection.

-

Daisuke had never seen his consort after that again. He was officially married but he hadn't seen his husband for the past week.

He had Ivan did some background digging and it turned out the secretary already did but Daisuke himself didn't want to read it just because he thought he didn't need to. Now here he was, hunching over his desk in his office, flipping through the files.

(m/n) (l/n), the infamous second son of the West Dukedom. An older brother to inherit the duchy, a set of parents that was rumoured to proudly spoil their baby son with multiple assets and estates. Occasionally ventures to East for social events. An extremely influential person in the upper-class.

He thought back on how the (h/c) mumbled about the Western Emperor. Looks like their arrangement was rooted much deeper than he had thought.

The prince tried to visit the consort in the Emerald Palace, where all the consorts and concubines of the royal resorted to, for now it was the sole home of (m/n) (l/n). What was once a parade of servants loyal to the prince, was sneaky and deceitful to protect their new master.

"What do you mean, he's unavailable?"

A maid coughed acting dismissive, two others behind her holding in their giggles. "Well, it is exactly what I said, Lord Ivan. His Grace isn't feeling well today."

Daisuke crossed his arms, standing behind his secretary and stared at the tall gates of the Emerald Palace. He tried to enter but was denied.

"If he's not well, has the doctor tend to the consort?" "He's unwell but he is not ill. Some time to himself is what His Grace needs." A guard suddenly chipped in and Ivan just noticed that all of the staff employed in the Emerald Palace was in on the gag.

"Do you wish for me to punish them, Your Highness?" Daisuke's knight, who was one of the commanders that served beside him during his military enlistment whispered to him. "No need." The prince sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

Daisuke knew that (m/n) was influential but to take over the Emerald Palace is not what they both need right now. Every now and then, he'd stop by the Palace but he was left in the dust each time, either he was rejected at the gates or the (h/c) was not present in his chambers.

He paused to himself, wondering why he was trying so hard to harmonize with his consort. His cheeks bloomed a light pink at the memory of the consort on their wedding day. (m/n) truly looked marvelous in his eyes.

Daisuke didn't want his first marriage to turn dull. How can he be the emperor of a nation if he couldn't even save his marriage?

"We received some...reports, Your Highness."

Daisuke looked up to his secretary, who seemed hesitant. They were in the prince's office. "What is it?" "Well...it'd be best if I tell this to you alone." The prince's knight immediately bowed and left the office, closing the doors shut.

The ravenette encouraged the secretary to sit. Ivan looked tired, as he stared into the prince's eyes. "Your consort, His Grace...we received reports of him flirting with some of the guards."

"...flirting?" An irk appeared on his forehead and he could feel mild anger building in the back of his head. How annoying was his consort?

"Yes. From the staffs of the other Palaces, not from the Emerald." "Was it a complaint or a report?" "Reports, Your Highness. The guards themselves have not reached out to me nor to your knight."

"..." Had the guards been bewitched by the (h/c)? Daisuke wondered. He sighed and pulled his cabinet open, taking out an invoice. "What are you proposing, Your Highness?"

"He's in a foreign country, away from his family with only a few familliar faces around him. He's probably throwing a tantrum with his new surroundings. His parents spoiled him with riches and the empire has no problem sponsoring him as well." The prince pulled out a stamp, officiating the new document.

"I'm increasing a total of 30% of his allowance, if he wishes for another shopping spree, then so be it."

Ivan stared at the new invoice Daisuke handed him, hesitantly picking it up. "...I don't think this is the solution." "Then what do you suggest?" "That Your Highness should steer instead of letting him trample all over you?"

The prince deadpanned at his long-known friend slash secretary who coughed into his fist and mumbled an apology. "I'll get this to the Royal Treasury immediately."

The prince had a frown on his face as his Ivan exited the office. Daisuke hadn't even seen (m/n) ever since his dinner, and here he was receiving news he was fooling around with others? Their dynamic was hard for him to tiptoe around.

Maybe the increase in money for the (h/c) would better his behaviour towards the prince.

-

"This is absurd..."

Daisuke stared at the paper in hand. An official request from his consort. He was already surprised that (m/n) was sending a letter his way but to his disappointment, it was a request for a summerhouse???

"Construction of a villa near the borders of the West, fully furnitured, surrounded by a lake with a stampede of workers for maintenance. Functionality...vacation." His knight peered over the crumbling Daisuke in his office chair.

"This...I haven't seen him in a month and the first thing he reaches out to me is a summerhouse. A SUMMERHOUSE???" Daisuke yelled frustratingly as he grabbed a quill and roughly stabbed it into the pot of ink.

"Will you indulge in his request, Your Highness?" "No. I've gifted him jewels and gold with him not even showing me his face and he dared to ask for a villa!" He was more than capable to build a villa by his own means, but a month had passed and the consort was a no-show!

He made his own advances, sending gifts, fineries, he even had a surprise private buffet for the consort ever since he heard (m/n) wished to try some of the Eastern cuisines! Not even a simple thank you from the consort himself. From the consort's attendant, yes and it made the prince curl over in delight but he wished to see the consort either way.

He had to dismiss the consort's request this time. Surely, not much of a fuss would occur.

-

"THE CONSORT IS MISSING!"

Daisuke's attention was snatched from the plate he was dining. He was having his dinner that night when a guard bursted in.

"WHAT??" "His Grace! He's gone missing!"

"How?!" Daisuke's knight stepped in. "Did he went out to town? With no guards??" "No! His schedule is clear for today, His Grace is not in his room and there were makeshift ropes from bedsheets from his windows!"

The prince sat silent for a while before he clenched his teeth. "That brat ran away...call all the knights! Cover a ten-mile perimeter! Close the FUCKING BORDERS and leave no stone unturned!!"

-

(m/n) was humming to himself, carefully guiding his horse on the stone path. The cloak he was wearing was enough to conceal the riches he was wearing underneath, he only wore them because it looked nice anyways.

As soon as the (h/c) received the notice where his request was rejected with no appeal, he ran away. Quite literally, he sneaked out of his bedroom, not even telling his maids he loved to gossip with nor even notifying a single guard.

The palace was starting to feel suffocating anyways. When he had stepped inside, all of the staff was ready to serve him as intended but as soon as he was promoted to a consort, they truly upped their game, treating him like royalty and far better than whatever he received back at the duchy.

Although they were the under the reign of the emperor, all it took was a few small gems and bags of coin to turn the maids over to his side. Then, the knights weren't that bad, Eastern men had their own charm to them and he may have fooled around with one or two, nothing advanced to the bed however.

Humans are easy to dictate over, his father and mother were his first victims of his narcisissm and his brother was kind enough to let him have his way. Socialites were a breeze, as long as you have a tight grip on people, all goes in your favour.

And that's what (m/n) (l/n) did for the past twenty two years of his life. Until the news of his engagement reached the duchy from the royal delegate. His hand in marriage, his freedom was sold to the East for peace between the two nations.

No more drunken nights, no more mingling with sexy men and women. He was forced to settle down quietly. But (m/n) wasn't going to back down without a fight. He was angry his freedom was stolen away from him, and he was going to make whoever his suitor was suffer.

At first, he delayed his arrival to the East Empire. Dragging his attendants to stop by towns, lounging in suites and overall prolonging their time before their arrival.

(m/n) had assumed his future husband was a sleazebag. An old pervert who had never shown his face in parties in the West. It was a nice surprise to find out that he was a kind handsome man on their wedding day.

It was disappointing to find out that he was a virgin pushover.

The prince, Daisuke Yuichi, showed not a single hint of anger towards him. Forgiving him in a second for his arrogance and that immediately gave (m/n) the hint that he could get away with anything as much as possible in the palace.

It was boring as well, if he was commanding at least he would have some fun in the sheets.

And him suddenly increasing his allowance, sending him gifts just showed how submissive this little prince was. (m/n) had him wrapped around his little finger already, he thought.

Yesterday, he had been in contact with a few architects since he wanted a new villa. He had multiple estates in the West but with his sudden moving, he wanted assets in the East as well. And he thought he could get his request approved but he was stunned to find it denied. The consequences were a few broken mirrors and him running away.

He handed the reigns of his horse to a worker, settling in a small town in the rural parts as he entered a lively bar, opting to ask the bartender where he could stay for the night.

(m/n) got a few winks here and there and even some paid drinks, all he did was blow a kiss and chugging them down blissfully as he headed to a moderately-sized inn.

He passed out on the bed, whining about the lack of sex for the past month as he clutched the bottle of vodka in his arms.

The consort had no clear of objective where to embark to. He thought of just journeying along the paths until he reached the borders so he could see where he can built his future villa. A horse and a small satchel with a dream.

The morning after, there was a ruckus in town. He groggily peeked out from the curtains to see guards with the Eastern insignia questioning people, a barrage of carriages and overall military personnel.

"...what the fuck..." He quietly closed the blinds as he recollected the very few items he had brought. Did the prince launch a manhunt??

He didn't think that his search would be this intense but holy fuck he's not intending to get caught like this.

He still wore the previous night's outfit, a linen blue blouse with khakis and carved boots fashioned with a cloak. He felt his heart racing when heavy footsteps tracked down the halls.

There were banging on other doors, inspecting the tenants and (m/n) immediately hid himself in a closet when his room was next.

There were heavy knocking and he held his breath in when the door was kicked open. Some yelling here and there, the (h/c) was just begging for them to leave.

"No sign of the consort!"

FUCK! They WERE looking for him. He bit his nails nervously as the chevaliers left his room to torture some other poor tenants of the inn. His mind scrambled, on what to do in this scenario.

Sure he had made a few attempts at running away before but his brother was the one who had capsized his attempts and he was at least gentle about it. These dogs looked like they wouldn't give a fuck if he lost a finger in the process.

He waited patiently in the dark closet until there were no noises outside of the window as he clambered down from the furniture and dashed out his room.

He hurriedly went to the stables, struggling to pull the ropes off of his horse when his shoulder was grabbed.

"Your Grace?"

"...FUCK-"

-

The guards were tired from an overnight search. Two of them, had been scouting the woods and stumbled across the small town and informed headquarters who sent a squad to do a full sweep.

After it was done, all they had to do was look out for any stragglers and proceed to the next stop. It was their luck to find the hunted man, the consort himself attempting to untie his horse in a rented stable.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU FIND ME?!!"

The (h/c) had struggled, kicking and yelling as they forcefully tied his wrists together, due to him still attempting to flee with some felt rope bound to a wooden pole outside of the stables.

One of the guards only stared unimpressed at the consort's accessories, his bracelets, rows of ring and a small diamond necklace. Who else was the missing husband of the crown prince. It was a miracle he hadn't been robbed.

There was a flustered expression on the (h/c)'s face who seemed to be embarrassed by the attracting crowd of the locals who had careened around to gaze at the infamous capture while he only sat defeated on the dirt floor.

"The next troop should be making their rounds over here, luckily that one should have the Crown Prince leading." "All we have to do is wait." They high-fived each other, standing guard while ignoring the yelling and cursing consort behind them.

It didn't take long for the consort to wear himself out and the next barrage of army to arrive. The prince's personal knight had been the one to came to them first, glancing at the dirty consort and walked over to the grand carriage that obviously carried the prince, opening the carriage.

"Shit shit shit-!" (m/n) cursed at himself, more pumped to free himself from embarrassment and his restraints as he pulled his wrists against the ropes, etching the material into his skin. He hissed in pain but he felt his heart dropped when he saw a familiar mop of black hair walking towards him in silver armour.

"...What is this?"

(e/c) eyes didn't dare to raise upon hearing the seething voice of the once kind prince. "I said what the hell is this?!" Daisuke turned to the two guards who supposedly had caught the consort.

"...It's the consort, Your Highness." The knight responsible for tying him jittered in nervousness, not expecting the aggression. The prince, clad in full armour with a cape, gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he snatched the collar of one of the guards. "If you knew he was my husband, then tell me why he's tied up like a stray dog!" He hissed, enraged at the fact (m/n) was on the ground, his wrists tied to a pole like a dirty mutt.

"Untie him immediately!" He threw the guard to the pole by his collar who staggered to cut the ropes. "Two trained knights couldn't restrain an unarmed man?! How stupidly incompetent do you have to be!" Daisuke was yelling, cursing at the guards while the rest of the squad watched.

(m/n) just sat helplessly, silently watching the knights cut through his restraints and he breathed a sigh of relief when his limbs were free from the ropes. Daisuke grabbed his hands, examining the burns as he looked at his consort in the eye.

The (h/c) didn't dare to look at the prince, silently facing to the side as he was pulled up by the arm, Daisuke grabbing him firmly and shoving him into the carriage while the rest of them bowed to the royals.

He was forced to sit beside the prince, his hands clammy and his clothes dirty while Daisuke was staring straight ahead, still fuming regarding the consort. It was painfully awkward until they reached a cabin for the horses and the men to rest, they had been searching for the missing consort overnight.

Once again, the consort was roughly manhandled upstairs into the cabin by Daisuke, while the rest of them camped outside. (m/n) pulled himself away from the prince once they were inside the privacy of the bedroom.

"Give me your hand." Daisuke's voice was firm, on edge and (m/n) silently held out his wrists as the prince took out a bottle of ointment from an emergency kit. Dabbing a cotton pad onto the opening of the bottle and carefully swiping it on the consort's burns.

"You should've been careful. The subjects are not familiar with you. You could've gotten hurt." The incessant rambling was annoying to (m/n) as he huffed. "I was fine. I can take care of myself."

The prince paused, looked up to him with a fierce glare. "You? Take care of yourself? I doubt you can even wield a knife." "I was only out for a stroll. Do I have to be accompanied twenty four-seven just for some fresh air?"

"You were missing for two days! No guards, no attendants! You could've died!" The consort pulled himself away from the prince, annoyed. "I was FINE! I'm still alive, aren't I?? Stop acting so paranoid and just leave me be.

Daisuke stood, now pissed. "Leave you be?? You have been avoiding me ever since our wedding. Rejecting my requests of audience like some arrogant prick!" "Oh I'm so sorry, Your Royal Highness! I should've licked your boots from the moment I arrived." The (h/c) mocked the prince.

"Watch your tone with me." Daisuke seethed, the consort scoffing, crossing his arms. "Or what? I doubt you would punish me for a trivial matter."

"I don't understand your hostility against me. I could've had you hung the moment you slapped me at our dinner." "But you didn't. You let it slide. I've trampled over you numerous times but you didn't give a single damn. It's not my fault the Prince of the East is a feeble PUSHOVER!"

If Daisuke was mad moments ago, he was now absolutely enraged. He stepped to the consort and grabbed him by his jaw. "I said, watch your shitty tone with me." He scowled.

"Or what?" (m/n) smirked. "What will you do, Princey." That stupid name pissed Daisuke off. He grabbed the (h/c)'s arm and tossed him onto the bed, the latter yelping while the prince started to remove his armour.

"I'm aware you've been whoring yourself to the knights. Tell me, have you had such an itch between your legs that you couldn't even keep them closed?" Daisuke felt his face grew hot with anger, tearing off his chest and shoulder plates from his figure, revealing his tight undershirt hugging his body.

"You-...I didn't do anything with them." (m/n) stammered, embarassed that his secrets of flirting with the guards had been leaked. He watched as Daisuke kicked the rest of his armour off of himself. "It's not like I've slept with them, we were just talking-" "It's no use justifying yourself."

The prince suddenly climbed onto the bed as (m/n) clambered away but yelped when the ravenette tugged on his ankle. "I'm furious. You've chosen to fool around with some second-level chavelier instead of seeing your own husband."

"You wouldn't care! Even if I fucked your father, you wouldn't give a single damn-" (m/n)'s head tossed to the side, his cheek burning in pain. He had just been slapped.

The consort looked up to the prince in shock. "You...Even my father has never-" "Well I'm not your fucking daddy, am I?"

Something rose in the (h/c)'s pants, there was a dark look in Daisuke's eyes that sent shivers down the consort's spine. He felt his breath becoming heavy as the prince leaned down to his face.

"If you're to disobey me once again, I'll strip you naked and feed you to the wolves. Do I make myself clear?" Daisuke glared into shaky (e/c) eyes, but he felt something throbbing pressing against his pelvis and he looked down.

He scoffed, unimpressed at the (h/c)'s erection. "Was this what you wanted? Me claiming you from the start? I'm over here furious at your behaviour and your cock is hard?" (m/n) shook his head, flustered. "I just- it's-" He couldn't find the words to defend himself of how he was so turned on getting threatened from his husband.

"It's been a while since I-" "And I haven't gotten a chance to taste you, rascal. To think you've messed around with my knights." (m/n) let out a flustered moan as Daisuke roughly groped his chest.

"Let's see if the peace between our nations was really worth the hassle."

-

There was stuttered moans, whimpers in the small bedroom, (m/n) covering his face with his arms. His body barely covered with his tattered shirt. His pants were tossed to the back with Daisuke lazily twirling the fountain pen he found in one of the cupboards.

The consort's bottom half was propped up with a pillow underneath, his legs dangling on armrests, Daisuke had pulled up a chair near the edge of the bed and slumped himself in it.

Currently, the (h/c) was exposed, his shirt torn in half and his hole twitchy being prodded by the pen in Daisuke's hand. The prince pushed, and swirled it around, stretching his dry rim.

(m/n) mewled, his body hot and he didn't like how he was the only one naked. He was deprived of sex for weeks and it was a pleasure for him to be toyed by the prince, who he thought he didn't even had the balls to pounce on him.

"Uncover your face. I didn't take you to be the shy type." (m/n) choked on his saliva when the pen was thrusted into his ass up to its hilt and his hips squirmed, uncomfortable and tingling from the length. "I-It's too dry- Mmnn! It hurts- anghh!"

"Oh nowww you're listening to me. When I finally put something in your ass is the moment you decided to stop being a brat." (m/n) couldn't see Daisuke's expression right now, if he did he bet he could squirt in seconds.

A firm grip on his cock made him mewl again, a throaty cry leaving his wet lips. "I said...uncover your face." The consort's heart was beating out of his chest as he slowly placed his arms to the side.

Daisuke felt amused, (e/c) teary, a flustered aroused expression on the consort's face. Far different than the defiant side he had faced all this time. He could feel his own cock throbbing in his pants.

He pressed the pen in deeper, (m/n) gargling and groaning in response. "D-Daisuke-" "Be formal. Respect me as your prince."

The (h/c) frowned, frustrated. "Your Highness..." He peeked up at the prince whose face was red, flushed with arousal and amusement.

"Good boy."

His cock spurted short ropes of cum in Daisuke's hand, the owner himself staring at his wet genital in shock. "H-How did I...?" Even the consort himself was confused how could he, a man who had slept with an abundant men and women previously, came extremely quick at the hands of the Eastern prince who had yet to shed a single garment.

"So you are a slut." Daisuke's tone was mundane. As if he was bored, unimpressed. (m/n)'s eyebrows were furrowed, his teeth clenching as he stared at his cock being slowly jacked off by the ravenette.

"I just c-came- wait wait!" He held in a breath as he endured his coming down from an orgasm with Daisuke fapping his cock agonizingly in slow but firm strokes. "Am I supposed to care?" The prince spoke with an arrogant tone.

The consort whined, his hips bucking and he clenched around the pen in his anus. His ass flinched when the prince took a glass decanter and pour the liquid inside down his cock, flowing down his base, slipping on the curve of his balls and coating the exposed pen and his clenching rim.

"Wh-What was that?" He panicked, his nether region feeling unusually hot. "You said you were dry." Daisuke brushed off the consort's worries, pulling out the pen and stuck his bare fingers inside, massaging his rim.

His fingertips dug into his hole, caressing his squelching walls, Daisuke observing (m/n)'s reaction who became more and more flustered. His hand that was gripping (m/n)'s cock went to flick his nipples, the consort cried out in shock.

The (h/c) bit his bottom lip, his eyes drowsy as he felt his body becoming more hot. He arched his back as he clambered to remove the remains of his torn shirt.

"Feeling warm?" (m/n) nodded to the prince's question, propping his hands up to support his body while getting his ass fingered by the prince. "What was in that decanter?" He moaned out.

"Emergency supplies. Used for wounds and cramps, I suppose its a fine substitute for a quick lube job." The (h/c) groaned in frustration, whimpering in hot discomfort. His previous partners had never been sloppy with him, only using expensive products and treating him like glass.

The prince, who sensed that the consort was complaining in his head yet again, grabbed his neck and brought him to his face. "Be grateful that I'm prepping you. Any man as angry as I am would've torn you apart by now. A 'thank you' would suffice."

(m/n) choked, still denying until Daisuke's fingers suddenly jammed roughly into his hole, two knuckles deep. "T-Thank you, Your Highness..." He whimpered.

Daisuke finally got the appreciation he wanted. He licked a stripe up (m/n)'s cheek, his fingers clenching the (h/c)'s jaw. Pressing a deep kiss into his cheek, he whispered into the consort's ear. "Now that's sensible."

(m/n) suddenly felt pissed off.

"I'll spit in your face if you don't back up." He snarled at the prince. Daisuke only rolled his eyes. "Tell your cock to stop leaking pre, then I'll release you." (m/n) groaned, still hating that he was the only one naked.

"Take off your clothes. It's not fair I'm the only one stripped." Sighing, the prince released his grips and took out his fingers. (m/n) squirming at the empty feeling left in his hole as the prince stood, kicking the chair away.

"Undress me." He ordered the consort. The (h/c) frowned but kneeled on the mattress nonetheless, climbing over the pillow as he roughly tugged off the prince's shirt, resisting the urge to punch his glaring face.

He pulled the belt off of his waist but when it came to his pants, (m/n) leaned his body down and used his teeth, pushing the button through the slit using his tongue and ripped the rest of the waistband halfway with his teeth. The prince groaned, stroking his (s/c) bare back.

The consort's body was pushed down, (m/n) knocked onto the bed in his back as Daisuke pulled his thighs forward, hiking his legs onto his shoulder. His bottom was propped once again by the pillow.

"Make sure not to cum so quick." (m/n) smirked, alluding to the fact that Daisuke was a virgin. The prince pulled out his cock...his big, big cock and scoffed.

"Confide that to yourself."

(m/n) accidentally bit his tongue when Daisuke pulled his hips back, slapping his ass against his naked groin. He felt heat bloom in his stomach, instantly full in his hole. "A-ahh mmh ahh-" He whimpered, staring up at the ceiling in debauched shock.

His thighs quivered as the prince had a bruising grip on his waist, pushing him back before slamming his cock inside again. A short scream dwelled from his throat as he felt his ass pierced.

The (h/c)'s nails dug into the cotton sheets below him as he endured blows from the prince who began to rut his cock roughly into his strained ass. He almost screeched at the sheer intensity of his thrusts the ravenette bestowed, the heat curling in his stomach once again.

Daisuke had been angry. Angry ever since that stupid dinner. But he was raised to be fair, to be just so he put himself in (m/n)'s shoes but all the disrespect, the arrogance the consort protrude hacks away at his patience.

He tried to be loving, giving the (h/c) space but all he received was spats of degrading and defiant remarks. All of those resentment began to pile in the back of his mind and eventually burst when he received the news of the consort fleeing from the palace.

He was angry that the consort put himself in danger, he was also enraged on how the man even flirted with others while leaving his husband in the dark.

It all lead to this moment, him fucking his mountain of vexation into the squirming melting (h/c).

"Haa- anhh!" Another spout of creamy semen splurted from the tip of (m/n)'s dick, slipping down and dripping onto his own stomach.

Daisuke could see the confusion and frustration etched on the consort's face. He held in a sly laugh as he bend his body down, pressing his head next to the consort's.

"Don't jinx yourself, quickshot." He teased the (h/c). The latter smacked his back to which Daisuke quickly humping his dick into the squelching hole, chasing his high.

"Wait wait! Not inside-!" He breathed a long sigh of relief, cumming long ropes of baby batter in the consort's hole.

(m/n) squirmed, feeling sticky as he tried to push the prince off. "You bitch. You cunt, I told you not to cum in me-!" He hissed.

It was a little secret he hold to himself, the (h/c) loooves people cumming inside of him but he wouldn't dare show it to the prince. However, Daisuke seemed to read his mind, apart from his still hard and twitching cock, he moved the consort to lay on his side.

"I'm not done. You have a month's worth of payback, consort." Daisuke spat on the (h/c)'s stomach who showed clear disgust and disapproval. "You shitty bitch." He scowled. A strangled gasp left his throat when the prince curled his hand around his neck, moving him up and down, choking him with his grip and his cock.

The more feisty the (h/c) was, the rougher his thrusts gotten, Daisuke gripped the consort's wrist with his other free hand, leaving him to claw at the sheets with only one, limiting (m/n) to ground himself who was squirming, going cockdrunk on his penis.

(m/n) was confused, scared why he was so turned on by the prince and his rough treatment. He couldn't stop cumming so many times on the prince's cock and the prince kept nutting inside of him despite his pleas not to do so.

His left leg was hooked on Daisuke's shoulder as he was pounded sideways, at one point he had came twice during one round, the prince degrading and slapping his ass for his whorish achievement.

Clenching around Daisuke, (m/n)'s thighs shook, his head fuzzy and eyes glossy with tears. The (h/c) dug his nails into Daisuke's strong arms, who had planted his hands beside his head.

How much fucking stamina did this monster had? (m/n) whined, wishing for the prince to finish already.

It wasn't until the seventh round that he started to cry.

At that point, his stomach was covered with a layer of cum and spit. His cheeks were hot with flowing tears, begging the prince to just hurry and cum inside him already.

"I c-can't anymore- mmf! Please- hurry up- hngg!" He sobbed, streaks of teardrops on his face. The prince only stared down at him with a detached expression, as if his body was boring to him. "I'll stop when I feel like it."

He screamed when Daisuke clenched his tip. "Maybe you should stop creaming so many times." (m/n) wailed another cry, pushing the prince's chest away as he somehow adjusted his body, rotating himself so he was lying on his stomach.

It appeared that would prompt the prince more who began groping and massaging his ass, slapping it once and twice while still shoving his cock in and out of his hole.

(m/n) drooled onto the sheets, his dick shoved and dragged against the duvet. His eyes widened as he got a glimpse of his state.

There was an old oval mirror, the top half covered with a linen sheet but the bottom was bare, reflecting (m/n)'s current position in the dim room.

He looked at himself and he couldn't recognise who he was. The once proud, bratty son of a duke was a mere dirty, squelching, crying, cum-filled hole under the prince. Daisuke was still going strong, gripping his butt cheek and ramming himself into his dripping hole. He couldn't believe that the man above him was a virgin.

Maybe he was wrong. Angering and pouring fuel onto the calm and kind prince, he thought he could take advantage of. Fooling around, refusing to grant him audience despite having the position as his husband. And to think of all the gifts the prince had given him as a means of peace, he either tossed aside or used for his own pleasure while brushing off his efforts.

Daisuke leaned down onto him, (m/n) tiredly watching him through the reflection on the mirror and he screamed when the prince planted his teeth into his nape, biting into his skin. He mewled, squirting hot semen onto the sheets again, as Daisuke claimed him by biting his neck like a wild animal.

"I-I..." His voice was weak, throat sore from moaning and crying so much. "M' sorry." He could feel the prince's thrusts slowing down before coming to a stop. The prince released him from his bite, he was sure there had to be bits of blood from the mark.

"What?" His tone sounded confused, as if (m/n) was the most arrogant bitch he ever met that even an apology sounded like he heard the singing of an angel.

"I'm sorry...for what I did...for all this time..." He muttered in broken words, his face sweaty and his mouth slobbered with spit. The consort mumbled more apologies, of what he did, for slapping him, for dismissing his audience, flirting with other men.

"..." Daisuke seemed to be quiet before he pulled out of the consort. (m/n) cried when his hair was pulled up as he was forced to his knees. His hands gripping at Daisuke's who clenched his grip on his scalp. "If I catch you wagging your tail around other men again, I'll sell you to a brothel. Do you understand?"

The consort weakly nodded, inching closer to the hard and wet cock that laid against his ass crack. It seemed that Daisuke had also noticed the mirror, the prince's eyes wide glaring at him through the reflection.

"I-I won't. I just want your cock. O-Only yours- mmn!" He bit his bottom lip, when the prince grinded himself against the (h/c)'s sensitive and stinging ass. "I'm sorry."

(m/n) had realised that this was a battle. A battle of their opposite attributes. As if the striking lightning and the ear-shattering thunder clashed with Daisuke coming out on top. And he had lost in the waves of their disputing dynamic.

He submitted himself to the prince, finally lowering his ego.

"Put it in." He breathed out, glancing behind him, his teary (e/c) eyes striking the prince right in the chest.

Daisuke seemed taken aback, his grip faltering before he gently pulled the consort back so he could rest on his chest. They were both on their knees, (m/n) breathing slowly, his body lax against Daisuke's as he rested his head beside's Daisuke's jaw.

He could feel semen dripping out of his hole as the prince carefully held his hips, avoiding the dents in his waist from his fingers as he angled his tip to kiss his hole.

(m/n) sucked in a breath, Daisuke slowly shuffling his cock inside his ass, contrast to how they first started.

His body was bounced on his dick, the prince moving him using his hips and he moaned loudly, throwing his head back. Daisuke stared at him, his eyes half-lidded as he gently prodded his nose onto the consort's cheek.

The innocent touching lead the prince hovering above his lips. Daisuke delicately pressed a kiss onto the consort, who accepted the gesture fondly as the innocent affection turned into tongue-tying lust. They were making out while (m/n)'s bouncing and Daisuke's thrusting became more fervent, chasing their orgasm together.

(m/n) mewled loudly into the prince's mouth, Daisuke immediately sucking on his bottom lip as the (h/c) came. The prince groped his chest, and fondled his sensitive cock while his staggering hips was rutting up into the consort as he creamed inside one last time.

Slowly, they both fell on their sides, (m/n) unable to move, his body immobile. Daisuke gently pulled out, breathing heavily from what was the first and best sex of his life.

-

He woke up alone.

The prince groggily sat up, his bottom half numb as he forced himself to open his eyes. Morning rays of sunlight entered the room through the curtains and he stretched his torso like a cat before turning to his right.

His heart dropped as he noticed no signs of the consort, finally remembering what happened the evening before as he clambered to slip on a robe and was about to trudge downstairs before he noticed the bathroom door was slightly open and the running of tap water.

Carefully, he creaked the door open, peaking inside to find the (h/c) submerged in the wooden bathtub, quietly washing himself.

(m/n) perked up when he noticed the prince opening the door. "Your Highness..." It seemed that the (h/c) had woken up earlier than the ravenette, opting to wash himself first.

Daisuke staggered, his legs still weak. "...I'm sorry, I fell asleep. I couldn't clean you-" "It's fine." (m/n) assured the prince, before looking away and closing the tap water.

There was something different about the (h/c), Daisuke noticed. He seemed more fragile? More delicate. Well, it was the first time he wasn't shouting to his face.

He was still standing in the middle of the loo awkwardly before they both spoke at the same time.

"Would you like to join me?" "May I join you?"

Both of them seemed taken aback at the coincidence, Daisuke more flustered as (m/n) nudged his head as an offer to join him. The prince disrobed himself, (m/n) looking away as Daisuke carefully stepped inside the already small tub.

The tub was small, cramp even to fit the both of them. The (h/c) hugging his legs, his chin on his knees as he mindlessly splashed the water around him.

Daisuke was staring, his eyes gazing over (s/c) skin, his shoulders, his wet hair. His mundane expression is what drawn him in. Half-lidded eyes staring at the water, fingers gently poking at the surface tension. It wasn't bad. It was peaceful.

"...I'm going to wash myself now."

(m/n)'s voice broke him out of his trance, the consort staring back at him and Daisuke noticed that the tub of liquid soap on the cabinet behind him.

"...Would you like me to help?" "It would be nice."

(m/n)'s voice sounded very fond, melodic almost as Daisuke began to lather the soap and scrub it into (h/c) strands, smoothing it over his skin gently. The consort did the same for the prince and at the moment Daisuke truly felt like they were acting as a married couple.

His heart felt full and when (m/n) turned his body around, Daisuke suddenly went forward to hug his back. His arms enveloping around the consort's figure, the latter who was about to step out was restricted as he glanced at the ravenette.

"Sorry...just give me a few minutes." He mumbled, planting his face into the consort's shoulders. Daisuke could feel the (h/c) sighing and leaning into his touch, and they stayed there.

The prince kissed the marks he left last night, where he had animalistically sank his teeth into the consort. His lips gently traced his teeth marks, as if to apologise to the consort. (m/n) only leaned into his touch further, letting the ravenette express his affection. They stayed for a while, until the water turned murky and their fingertips were wrinkly.

When (m/n) was about to exit the tub, he heaved himself up but his hold slipped in the process, his lower half clearly more immobile from the previous evening and Daisuke cutting in to make sure he doesn't fall.

The prince stepped out first, tied a towel around himself and laying out another on a spare table. He reached into the tub to cradle the (h/c) and pulled him out of the tub. The water splashing out from the edges.

"You don't have to-" "It's only decent if I do." He stopped the (h/c) from refusing him any longer. And it had an impact on the consort.

(m/n) was carried by the prince into the bedroom and was gently placed on the clean side of the bed. Daisuke asking an attendant for two sets of clean clothes and when it arrived, he helped his husband dress before they headed downstairs for breakfast.

They dined together, and Daisuke thought it would be awkward or maybe a pitiful attempt at small talk but (m/n) was quiet. Nimbly chewing at his Danish ice cream toast, and the prince followed suit, basking in the peaceful atmosphere.

Some of the guards peeked at the pair, expecting Daisuke to yell at him or the consort to rebel since they heard the rumours of them not getting along backed up by their public arguments but they found the two to be surprisingly civil with each other. Daisuke opening the carriage for (m/n) and holding his hand when the consort stepped in as they continued their journey back to the palace.

The prince kept shooting glances at the consort, who only stared out at the window of his side, keeping to himself.

When Daisuke asked him if anything was wrong, all (m/n) did was shook his head and replying in a polite manner.

The ravenette thought he broke his consort, all up until they arrived at the palace. (m/n)'s maids wailed in relief at the sight of him as they hurriedly tended to the consort, who still maintained his monotone expression.

Daisuke wiped his face in agony as Ivan asked what the hell had happened.

"I think...I was too rough on him..."

The secretary irked and ushered the prince into the throne hall to report to the emperor.

-

"How embarassing..."

(m/n) mumbled to himself, pulling at a soft handkerchief as the servants presented him a large treasure chest.

"It is a present from His Highness for you, Your Grace." The butler announced, opening the chest, revealing an abundance of shiny gold coins with jewels and gems scattered about. His maids behind him had their eyes shining, drooling over the treasure.

It had been a day since he returned from his escape. All he did was recuperate in his room from his tranquil state and he had slept early that evening so when the prince asked for dinner together, he didn't get to accept.

He felt like he made peace with his circumstances, with his arranged marriage, although he did felt abashed regarding the whole 'running away' incident. The consort plucked the card on top of the mountain of coins.

"For the villa..." He mumbled the words written on the card. "This prick." (m/n) rubbed his forehead as he turned to his maids.

"Help me get dressed. I'm paying a visit to my husband."

-

Daisuke was frustrated. There were some troubles stirring up at the Western borders and there were complications were the ministers refuse to cooperate to handle the increase in thugs and crime.

He was fast at writing down letters and signing documents but his mind wandered to his consort. There was his guilty conscience, screaming at him of why he treated his husband so roughly on their first night together.

A piece of himself tried to justify while the rest of him only felt remorse and thought they were back at square one when the consort didn't respond to his invitation for last night's dinner. He perked up when his door was pushed open.

-

(m/n) could hear gasps and whispers from the servants, he rolled his eyes and glared at a few of them who immediately scuttled away as he trotted past them. Ivan was behind him, he himself was taken aback when he requested to see Daisuke as he led him to the prince's office.

The guards bowed to him as they pushed the door open, revealing a shocked ravenette who had his mouth wide open in shock.

"(m/n)...I mean, Lord (m/n)! What are you doing here-" "Was this supposed to be compensation?"

Daisuke squinted his eyes at the card (m/n) was holding. The one he sent along with the treasure chest. "Compensation?" "Was this compensation for my body?"

Immediately, Ivan excused himself, shutting the doors close. Daisuke stood to defend himself. "What- no! It's for the villa. It's what you wanted, right?" (m/n) glared at the card before crushing it in his grip. "It felt like you only sent it because we slept together, Your Highness."

"I-" The prince sighed. "Look, I'm not in the mood to argue today. Can we just not do this?" He groaned, sitting back in his chair, going over the papers again. (m/n) stared at him before his eyes trailed to the rest of the interior.

Picture frames, bookshelves, even a lounge couch and a coffee table in burgundy and brown accents. He walked around the office, trailing his fingers over the decoration. "Do you stay in here often, Your Highness?"

Daisuke eyed the consort, his fingers massaging his forehead. "...I do. It's my office, I do all my paperwork here." (m/n) hummed, as he placed back a book he had pulled out, not fully understanding the writing.

"...I see that you're in distress, Your Highness. More than usual today." Daisuke wasn't sure if that was a jab at how heated he gets during their arguments or out of genuine concern. "...There's some trouble at the borders. The West is not cooperating currently. I'll have to refer to my father for this matter."

(m/n) leaned on the table, his palm close to Daisuke's hand as the consort kneeled down in front of the prince, pushing him and his chair back. "What are you doing?!" Daisuke had a clear blush on his face, his face abashed and (m/n) could already see the rising tent in his pants.

"...the sex yesterday was nice. It was really nice." "...Oh..." And here the prince was worried he was too malicious with the consort. "Usually, I'd prefer some physical aftercare." "Physical?" "Just...holding me would be nice."

(m/n) swiped or tied his hair back. "But it seemed that you are in need of a different type of care, Your Highness." Daisuke's eyes widened as the (h/c) tugged his zipper down.

He was jitterish, his fingers shaky as the consort gave him the best head he ever had. The first one, in fact and (m/n) left him in his office in a fucked out state, wiping his mouth.

His personal guard peeked inside to see Daisuke drooling on his desk, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Ever since then, the consort had frequent visits to the Grand Palace where Daisuke resided. He would often lounge in his office while the prince worked and Daisuke really favoured this new outcome.

They would banter every now and then but it wouldn't turn into a full-blown argument and he was grateful for that on its own. Meals were shared and they would go on walks in the garden together, he found out the (h/c) preferred the greenhouse the most.

They even went on a date! A tour of the capital like Daisuke had promised on their wedding day although he couldn't deny he was a bit jealous when (m/n) revealed some of the places he brought the (h/c) to had been visited by him and his guards.

Speaking of, Daisuke replaced all of the knights that had previously attended to the consort, switching out with older and more loyal guards, some of them returning from wars. The prince just wanted to make sure (m/n) had no paladdins he would be attracted to.

"You can always claim me again." The (h/c) bit the ravenette's ear when Daisuke told him of the new rearrangement. Cue to them fucking like rabbits in the library, knights were scarred as they stood guard outside.

It also seemed that the prince was slowly introduced to public affection. (m/n) touching him fondly or even teasingly in open places. He wasn't used to this but he was slowly adapting. He was also very pleased when he received no more reports of the (h/c) fooling around with other men, maybe his faux warning worked a bit too well.

Although the consort had been acting a bit too bold lately.

"What do you mean I can't enter?! He's my husband!"

Daisuke quickly diffused the situation, fetching (m/n) who was outside of his chambers, arguing with some of the guards who had refused his entry due to him occupied in the bath.

"Next time, let him pass freely." He whispered to one of the paladdins as (m/n) slumped on Daisuke's bed, noting the immediate sinking the mattress had. He propped himself up sideways while the maids helped the prince tidy himself up after his bath.

The (h/c) frowned, seeing the ravenette exposed around others, with water droplets dripping down his muscles, his bathrobe giving a window to his chest, and the fluffy robe was NOT hiding the fact that he had a huge dick.

"How long are they going to be here?"

As soon as those words escaped the consort's lips, half of the maids present froze, hesitating to continue with their chores as Daisuke turned to his husband.

"Do you prefer I use butlers instead?" He offered to switch, he didn't want (m/n) to have any discomfort of him being bare around the opposite sex.

"...No." "...Then is there a problem?"

(m/n) had been lying on his stomach, swinging his legs playfully before he rolled himself over on his back. "It's best if they weren't in the room for now." He purred, looking at Daisuke dead in the eyes as he teasingly spread his legs.

"Oh." The prince slapped himself in the face, letting his palm stay on his cheek as he sat there in growing arousal. "Leave."

The servants followed as they're told and the prince raised his face when the door clicked shut. "You ought to stop being so bold, Lord (m/n)." He groaned, although stripping himself and climbing over the (h/c).

"Just (m/n) is fine." The consort purred, wrapping his arms around the prince's neck, swiping his tongue on his lips together.

The longer Daisuke was around (m/n), the more he realised how much of a vixen he had in his arms. The (h/c) was so experienced and demanding in bed, intentionally moaning loudly about how big his cock is just so he could embarrass Daisuke although the prince was more than happy to indulge into his carnal desires.

The prince stared up at the ceiling, the room was dark, curtains shut closed, his plans to venture out to the ministry cancelled, he laid in his bed next to the similarly naked consort.

In his mind, he thought back to his childhood dreams, of owning a fairytale love story.

"What are you thinking of?"

He glanced to his left to see (m/n) on his side, staring at the prince while pulling up the blanket up to his chest. "Nothing, really." "Liar, you were really deep in thought."

"..." Daisuke contemplated whether he should reveal his childish dreams. "...When I was a kid, my father would tell me stories. Storybooks, of prince and princesses. And I thought that maybe one day, I get to have my own fairy tale too."

The consort next to him was quiet, although he didn't see his expression, still staring up to his painted ceiling.

"And I just thought of the present."

There were some rustling and the consort placed his head directly next to his, touching shoulders. (m/n) was frowning, his arm reaching to hug Daisuke at his waist. "I mean, life changes doesn't it? The fact that we're even tolerating each other is something we should be thankful for."

"That is true." "You're still in fret. Did you not get the happy ending you desired?"

The prince actually gave some thought into it. A stupid decision, and it hurt the consort. "It was not the one that I expected but I'm satisfied regardless."

"...Good to know..."

Daisuke felt the consort pull back and faced his body away from him. The prince pondered for a moment at the sudden change in behaviour. He wordlessly went up behind the (h/c), pulled him close, his chest to (m/n)'s back and silently went to sleep, unaware of the brewing storm thundering in the consort's mind.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

PREVIEW FOR...

DEAREST HUSBAND [PART II]

ROYALLY FUCKED [PART III]

Afterthoughts...

Daisuke and (m/n) after discovering hate sex:

Surprise! This will be a three-part installment. I forgot how much I loveee writing historical fiction and i just had so many ideas i couldnt fit them into one!

I really did try to aim how the reader isnt completely in the right although he is somewhat justified (will be further explored). Theres some clashing where Daisuke Yuichi is canonically Japanese but the aesthetic here is European-based so please forgive my inaccuracy this one time. I thought of involving interracial marriage but i didnt want to overcomplicate things.

If you read the part where Daisuke asked how (m/n)'s language was good, it hinted that one of the other reason our reader arrived late to the palace was him sleeping around with men of the East.

And yeah, the ending part. Daisuke lowkey in the wrong. I would be so offended if my husband said that, idc if arranged or not.

Ill release the second chapter if i like how the audience receives this one! (As in if u guys like it or not haha) im very hoping to find a beta reader btw. Stay tuned!

Taglist:

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin @jaxyy219 @mikahrh @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @pinxeajin @gyarukitti @syyyy4ever

[justmymindandstuff]

Hello, how you doing ?

Could i request Cregan Stark x Daemon's first daughter, born from Rhea Royce ?

She is a Targaryen and has a dragon, but she is very shy and tends to keep to herself, so she doesn't tell Cregan about being bullied by Arra Norrey's maids, who think she is not good enough for their lord.

He figures it out when he finds her letters to Rhaenyra and sees her trying to put her bags on her dragon to flee in the middle of the night.

Feel free to ignore this if you don't like it, have a lovely day ☺

Shadows of the past - Cregan Stark x TargaryenReader

summary: Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, is forced to remarry after the death of his first wife and childhood sweetheart. His new bride is the eldest daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce. Cregan fears the worst. But his wife is sweet, gentle, beautiful, kind. Everything he could wish for. He starts thinking you are slowly building a life together in the north, however he realizes that it is not as idyllic for you as he thought.

words: 7.244

warnings: angst, mention of bullying, mention of sex (not explicit), slow burn

a/n: I love writing for Cregan soo much its not normall anymore. Thank you anon for your request🧡. I hope you like it. Sorry that it took me so long.

no use of Y/N, and as always: English is not my first language, no beta, AO3.

requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist

When the offer of your hand from Dragonstone came, Cregan was skeptical. The eldest daughter of the rough prince as a wife. But he needs a new wife. It is his duty as the Warden of the North. And an offer from the Targaryens is not something you simply refuse. So he agrees.

Cregan had expected you to be a spoiled, arrogant, selfish princess.

The girl who arrived in Winterfell on her dragon is exactly the opposite.

You are shy, reserved, calm.

Outwardly, you are entirely Targaryen, with long blonde hair, deep lilac eyes, gentle facial features, beautiful.

Internally, there is none of the infamous Targaryen temperament in you.

When you speak, your voice sounds like a melody, always soft and gentle.

If it weren't for your dragon, Silverwing, Cregan would never think you are Daemon Targaryen's daughter.

The first few weeks, you were very closed off. Never speak unless you are spoken to. Spent most of your time in your chambers, with work or with your dragon.

So he tries everything to make you feel comfortable in Winterfell. He walks with you through the Goodswood, has your favorite food prepared, makes sure you have enough warm cloaks and dresses. When he introduces you to his son Rickon, he is more nervous than he should be, but your eyes begin to shine as the heir of Winterfell greets you politely, just like Cregan has practiced with him.

On your wedding night he swore to you he would never take you if you didn't want to, he gave you all the power in your marital bed. That night you allowed him to lie with you, he was careful, always aware of your fragility, making sure that you also felt pleasure. After that night you didn't invite him into your bed again. Cregan longs for you, but he would never pressure you.

In your first weeks as Lady Stark you spend a lot of time with Winterfells Measter, ask a lot of questions, slowly working your way into your duties as Lady Stark. Cregan quickly notices that you are well prepared for the role of a Lady of a Great House in Westeros, but Winterfell is unlike other castles. You surprise him by quickly get used to it.

The moon hasn´t passed fully since your wedding, when he finds you one day in Rickon's chambers. You are sitting on the floor with his son and play with wooden soldiers, Rickon is telling a fantasy story and you are encouraging him. Cregan's heart swells slightly at the sight.

He clears his throat to get your attention, you flinch violently, when you look up at him you look like a deer.

You get to your feet immediately, surprisingly elegant despite your hectic behavior. "My Lord." you say and lower your head in front of him. A gesture that he couldn't drive out of you.

"My Lady. What are you doing here?"

"We're playing papa." Rickon intervenes without being asked. "Are you playing with us?"

"Unfortunately, I can't today, I have duties to attend to. I just wanted to check on you, my boy."

"I'm fine, father. We're playing great. I have so much fun." he holds up his favorite woodknight.

"Then I don't want to disturb you any further." he smiles at his son, nods to you and then leaves the children's cambers again. His Lords are already waiting for him.

In the evening you come to his chambers, standing uncertainly in his room. Cregan was not expecting you anymore, he has already changed for the night. He offers you a mug of warm beer and a place by the fireplace. As you sit down your cloak slips and the white of your nightgown flashes through. Cregan has to concentrate not to let his gaze wander.

"What brings you to me so late, my wife?" he asks curiously, sitting next to you at the fire.

"I'm sorry." you don´t look him in the eyes.

Cregan has to blink a few times, doesn't understand what you mean. But you don't say anything else, avoid his gaze so that he has to ask. "What are you sorry about?"

"I didn't mean to upset you." your hands play with the fabric of your cloak.

"You didn't upset me, wife. What makes you think that?" he asks, confused. Did he behave differently? Did he speak in a too harsh tone with you?

"Today with Rickon. It upset you that I played with him. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I have no intention of replacing his mother, your late wife."

Cregan has to suppress a laugh. How wrong you are. "It didn't upset me, sweet wife." his voice is soft and you finally look him in the eyes. Your eyes are wide, surprised, your lips open slightly. Cregan wants to lean forward and kiss you, but he doesn't. "I'm glad that you're spending time with Rickon. Maybe you can be a mother figure to him someday." he expresses his wish hesitantly.

"I intend to love him as if he were mine." you say, a smile creeping onto your lips. Cregan is brave and reaches for your warm hand, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You don't pull away and continue speaking. "But he shouldn't forget his mother."

"Don't worry about this, Lady Selina, Lady Darcy and Lady Alys will keep the memory alive."

"The Nursemaids. What does that mean?" you tilt your head slightly, examining him closely. The soft light of the fire catches in your hair and makes your skin glow warmly. Gods you are beautiful. Cregan has to swallow before he can answer.

"They were my late wife's friends, her Ladies. After Arra died, I asked them to stay in the household to look after Rickon." remembering how overwhelmed Cregan suddenly was by everything, and how much the loss of his first wife hurt him, he needs a moment to ground himself before he can continue speaking. "If that bothers you, then of course I can dismiss them and send them away from Winterfell."

He knows that this loss will hurt Rickon, he has been surrounded by the three Ladies his whole life, Selina was Arra's best friend. However he would do it for you, he wants you to feel comfortable and Rickon would get over the loss of his nannies, he is a Starkman after all, one day he will be as tough as winter. He has to be.

"No. No, please don't send them away." you squeeze his hand a little. "It is important that her friends are here. They need to tell him what his mother was like. I mean his real mother. My mother also died when I was young. I hardly remember her and I have nobody how can told me something about her." you suddenly sound sad. Cregan is surprised by your words. Additional to the Ladies, he regularly speaks to Rickon about his mother, takes him to her grave, tells stories, has a portrait of her hung in Rickon's room.

"Your father doesn't talk about her?"

You sigh, a narrow smile on your lips. You look into the flames again before speaking quietly. "No, never." you bite your lower lip and then whisper. "I was told he killed her." Cregan doesn't doubt for a second that it is true. He squeezes your hand gently. You look at him again, a sad smile on your lips. "It hurts when you don't know your mother. It's like half of yourself is missing. And my other half is a monster. I'm glad Rickon is learning about his mother and that his father isn't a monster."

A lump forms in Cregan's throat, he doesn't know what to say. Your words touch him, but at the same time make him angry at your father and he feels sorry for you. Your life doesn't seem to have been particularly bright.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Thank you. But I don't need your pity." for the first time, Cregan feels like he sees the dragon blood in your eyes. "My stepmothers both treated me as if I were their own blood. I didn't grow up without love."

"I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't." your gentle smile is back on your lips. "So I can take care of Rickon?" you avoid his gaze again, your cheeks are slightly red.

"Of course. I'm glad you're getting along well."

"He's great. A good boy." you smile and then get up elegantly from your chair. "I'm retiring now. Good night husband."

"Good night sweet wife." he sinks into a slight curtsy before leaving his chambers. Cregan takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair. He's happy that you want to take care of Rickon. That you want to be a part of his family. This is something he wanted for this marriage, that you can be a family.

Cregans efforts take fruits. He has the feeling that you are slowly thawing and starting to trust him.

A light summer snow falls down and gets caught in the fur of your hood. Cregan has take you for a ride through the Wolfswood today. Cregan is surprised how well you can hold yourself in the saddle. In the next moment, he doubts his sanity. You are riding a dragon. Such a horse is of course easy for you. You look around with wide eyes and a gentle smile on your face. Cregan can't help but stare at you, captivated by your beauty.

"I missed that at Dragonstone." you say, looking over to him. Cregan flinches slightly, doesn't quite understand what you mean.

"Forests?" he guesses. He has no idea about Dragonstone's vegetation.

"No. To see something new. Dragonstone is an island, if you live there long enough, you've seen everything." you shrug your shoulders.

Cregan has to chuckle slightly. "You have a dragon, sweet Wife. You could have seen the whole world."

"I would never have left my family." you say firmly. Are you angry?

"I didn't mean to offend you." he tries to circle back. He is always a bit unsure when he talks to you. He wants you to feel comfortable, that you are doing well, and he wants you to like him. Maybe someday you will love him. He finds it hard to be patient. If he is honest with himself, you had him from the very first moment. Your beauty overwhelmed him, your kindness and gentleness captivated him, and your smile. Gods, your smile makes his heart beat faster.

He knows that he loves you. Even if he can't tell you. Not yet. He is afraid of scaring you. So he holds back. He tries to give you space so you can get used to your new role, your new home, and him.

He would love to scream his feelings for you from the wall so that the whole world hears it.

But it is not the right time for that yet.

A soft smile is on your lips again. "You didn´t husband."

He is relieved and returns your smile. "Do you want to go back? It's a little cold today."

"I'm not cold. I'm from the blodd of the Dragon. The cold doesn't bother me. It´s almost like I belong in the north." in the next moment your eyes widen and you look down. A blush spreads across your cheeks and Cregan has to swallow, his heart skips a beat.

"You are Lady Stark. You belong to Winterfell now." he says, trying to take away your insecurity. You don't look at him again, but he sees a smile on your lips. Maybe you'll even belong to him someday. He hopes so.

Back in Winterfell, you let him help you off your horse. His hands stay on your hips for a moment too long, but you don't seem to mind. You look up at him, your cheeks turn slightly red but you manage to hold his gaze. Cregan drowns into your beautiful, violet eyes. He leans forward slightly, wanting to feel your lips on his even if it's only for a moment. You don't back away.

"Papa." Rickon's voice echoes across the courtyard. Cregan and you flinch apart. He lets go of you and turns to his son. Anger flares up in him briefly at the disturbance, but when his boy jumps into his arms with a broad laugh, it immediately disappears.

"Rickon! Don't be so wild." Lady Darcy comes running out of the castle after him. Cregan notices you shifting your weight from one foot to the other next to him, out of the corner of his eye he sees you turning to your horse. A strange feeling spreads through him. At that moment Lady Darcy comes to him, opens her arms to take Rickon. "My Lord Stark, welcome back," she greets him and curtsies slightly.

"Papa, can I visit the dragon? Darcy says it's too dangerous alone, but you're back now," his son calls excitedly. Cregan's stomach tighten, he keeps himself as far away from Silverwing as possible. He is not comfortable with the monster. Even if there have been no problems so far, your dragon only hunts prey, stays away from people and the farmers' livestock. She usually flies further north, you told him that she has a cave there.

"I think that's a bad idea." Dracy interjects. "The monster is unpredictable, far too dangerous."

Cregan thinks for a moment, of course the nursemaid is right, Silverwing is dangerous. But you know your dragon better. You will certainly be able to judge whether your dragon poses a danger to Rickon or not. He turns to you to ask if it's okay for you to go visit your dragon with him and Rickon, but you are no longer standing next to your horse. His gaze searches the yard, but there is no trace of you. You sneaked away quietly and secretly. Cregan's eyebrows furrow.

"Papa, please, please. I promise I won't pet the dragon either. Just a quick look."

"My lady wife must go with you, Rickon. But she seems to have other things to do today. Another time."

Rickon's lower lip trembles slightly, but he knows better and doesn't burst into tears. The heir of Winterfell doesn't cry over such little things as a denied wish.

"What important things Lady Stark must have to do." Cregan is surprised by Dracy's bitter tone, but he pushes the thought away; perhaps he simply misunderstood her.

The Maester warned him that summer could soon be over. It has been summer for four years now. That means more work for Cregan as Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, he has to make sure that his people survive this winter, at least most of them. Winter demands his victims, every damn time. Cregan can only keep the losses as small as possible. So he sinks into paperwork and negotiations with the Lords of the North. Nobody wants to share supplies, everyone is afraid that there won't be enough for themselves. Cregan's tasks is it to find compromises. He would much rather spend his time with you, he longs for you, for your gentle smile, your kind words, the time you have spend together. He wonders if you miss him too?

He only ever gets brief glimpses of you, when you meet in the hallway you give him a smile, when he makes it to the hall for dinner you are usually already sitting there with Rickon, greet him friendly and assure him that you are happy to see him.

Cregan is on his way to a meeting with the carpenter. The houses in Winter Town need to be made winterproof and the villagers need his help. As he walks across the gallery that spans one of the courtyards of Winterfell, your laughter pulls him out of his stride. He stops immediately and turns his head towards the noise.

You and Rickon run across the courtyard, playing catch. His little boy jumps back and forth in front of you, laughing loudly. You let him win, pretending you have trouble catching him.

Lady Selina steps beside him. Her lips are drawn into a thin line.

"My Lord." she slightly bows her head before him and Cregan smiles faintly, he finds it hard to take his eyes off you and Rickon.

"What can I do for you?" he asks and hopes that it's nothing urgent. He's considering canceling the meeting and taking you and Rickon to the Goodswood instead, where you can spend time together as a family without being disturbed.

"I am worried, My Lord." now she has his full attention. His shoulders tense up.

"What happened?" Unrest among the lords, a fight? The servants usually know this things before he does.

Selina gives him a smile. "Nothing happen, My Lord."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "What troubles you then?" Cregan tries not to sound as annoyed as he is. Selina knows that he has a lot to do at the moment. Neverless for the sake of the love he had for his first wife, he always tries to be friendly, even though Selina can often be irritating. Sometimes she takes herself more important than she is, behaves like the Lady of Winterfell, and Cregan has had to remind her of her position more than once.

"It's your new wife, My Lord." she starts, her smile is friendly, doesn't really fit her tone. At the mention of you his heart beats faster, he just has to think of you and he feels like a little boy with a crush. Seeing you makes him float on cloud nine. Cregan turns back to the side and looks down at you again. The broad smile on his lips is unusual for the young Lord.

"We can be glad that she is here with us." his voice is gentle. He has to clear his throat and straightens his shoulders. He quickly slips back into his role as Lord Stark, not the lovesick idiot.

"Can we?" the sharp tone makes Cregans skin crawl. He furrows his eyebrows, turns around. Lady Selina does not flinch from his gaze, but straightens her shoulders. She is a northern woman, intimidation does not work on her. She is like him, hard as winter, unyielding as the wind.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Lady Selina?"

"No, my Lord. It's just that I… we think that a southern girl might be too weak for the important task of being Lady of Winterfell." she chooses her words carefully, smiling. "I´m only thinking about Rickon and his upbringing. I want the best for him, you know that."

The mention of his son causes his anger at Lady Selina to evaporate. Of course she is only thinking of his son, she wants the best for him. Loves him like her own child.

"My wife is a princess, a Targaryen. She does her job well. Or have you heard something else?"

"No, of course not." Lady Selina lowers her head slightly, no longer looking at Cregan. "I'm just worried about Rickon."

"I really appreciate your concern and care for my son. But your doubts are unfounded. Now if you would excuse me."

"Of course, my Lord." She clenches her jaw and sinks into a curtsy. Cregan walks past her to finally meet the carpenter, he is already too late.

Negotiations with the lords are going badly, Cregan is buried in work and doesn't know what to do. The sun has long set but sleep does not come to him. Instead he sits by the fireplace in his chambers, the taste of beer on his lips and stares into the flames. He sighs. He needs help. Could you give him some advice? That would kill two birds with one stone, he could finally spend some time with you again and maybe find a solution. Without thinking twice he calls for his servant and sends for you.

It doesn't take long before you enter his chambers. You look around uncertainly, you have thrown a cloak over your nightgown, your long blonde hair falls loosely over your shoulders. You are sight for sore eyes.

"My Lord husband," you whisper, curtsying deeper than usual. You slowly take a few steps into the room and stop in the middle. You tremble slightly, your breathing is faster than usual and your hands fumble with the hem of your nightgown. "You ordered me into your bed." your voice trembles as you take a step towards his bed.

Cregans heart sinks, he is on his feet in a heartbeat. You flinch. "My sweet wife, no. I told you I would never do that." he says quickly. It was stupid of him, of course you would think he was ordering you into the marital bed.

"Oh I just thought. Because some time has passed since our wedding night. I thought you might be impatient."

"No. I just wanted to discuss something with you. Please sit down next to me." he points to the chair in front of the fireplace. The fire gives off pleasant heat, sweat forms on Cregan's forehead. However, you are shaking slightly. Cregan reaches for his cloak and puts it around your shoulders before sitting down himself again.

You smile. "Thank you husband." you whisper.

"I'm sorry about the misunderstanding. I just thought you might be able to offer me some advice."

You smile again and Cregan is happy about it. "I don't know if my advice is really useful."

He has to suppress a snort at your modesty. You handle your duties as Lady Stark flawlessly.

"I'm sure it is. And besides that, well." he interrupts himself, noticing the blush rising in his cheeks. "I've hardly had any time for you in the last few days. I'm sorry about that too. I wanted to spend time with you."

Your smile widens. "I've missed the time with you too." you whisper and Cregan's heart starts racing. You missed him. You shift back and forth, making yourself comfortable. "How can I help?"

He starts to describe the problems to you, the stubbornness of his lords, the lying about their supplies even though he knows full well that they have more than they admit. The arguments among themselves.

"Can't you force them to give up some of their stock?" you ask after listening carefully.

This time Cregan snorts, leans back a little in his chair. "And how am I supposed to do that?" Inciting Bannerman against Bannerman would only make things worse.

"Silverwing could help."

"No!" his tone is sharp, his voice too loud for the pleasant atmosphere. You flinch in shock, look at him with wide eyes before avoiding his gaze again.

You swallow. "I'm sorry. It was just an idea. My father always uses Caraxes to get his way." you whisper. Cregan leans forward, reaches for your hand. His heart stops while he waits to see if you pull your hand away. You don't, his fingers carefully wrap around yours.

"Using your Dragon would fulfill the purpose, but I don't want to intimidate my men with her. I don't want to rule with fire and blood."

You nod. "I understand. It was stupid of me."

"No." he shakes his head and gently strokes the back of your hand. "I just hope for a peaceful solution."

You straighten up a little. "Then let's look for a peaceful solution." You both start to brainstorm, but your conversation quickly drifts off. You talk about your childhood in Pentos, your days on Dragonstone and your siblings. Cregan manages to open up about his uncle, how he had to fight for his inheritance and for his rule.

It's good to be able to tell you all this, to have someone to confide in. Only when you yawn after every word and Cregan has trouble opening his eyes again after blinking do you decide to end the evening.

"I'm going back to my chambers then." you say and pull his cloak off your shoulders.

"I'll call a guard for you."

"No, please don't wake anyone up. I'll find the way myself," you say, but your look is uncertain. Cregan also has a bad feeling about letting you walk through half of Winterfell at night.

"Then I'll accompany you."

"Please, husband, don't make yourself so much trouble because of me. You're exhausted yourself and it's an unnecessary journey for you." you object.

Cregan looks at his bed, it's big enough for both of you. Arra has also spent most of her nights here.

"You could sleep here?" he suggests quietly. Your eyes dart to the bed and then to him. You swallow. "Not to fulfill your marital duties, just to sleep." Cregan quickly clarifies.

"What will people think?"

He has to suppress a laugh. "You're my wife, my lady. The people won't think anything."

Your cheeks turn slightly red again. "Right." you think for a moment and then pull your own cloak from your shoulders. Cregan has to look into the flames so that his gaze doesn't get stuck on the curves of your cleavage and he stares like an iron born. Only after you get comfortably under the furs and blankets of the bed he slips off his own clothes and lies down next to you, keeping a safe distance.

"Sleep well, sweet wife."

"Sleep well, husband."

When Cregan wakes up the next morning, you've already disappeared, but your side of the bed is still warm. He turns to the side, buries his face in your pillow and inhales your scent deeply. Cregan knows that you prefer to fly with Silverwing in the morning, so he doesn't worry.

He's tired, but he still throws himself into work.When he returns to his chambers late that evening, you are already sitting in the chair by the fireplace. You turn to him, your cheeks red, but you look him in the eyes. Your hands shake slightly as you hand him a cup of wine.

"I got it from Pentos. I told you about it yesterday." He nods. He's still surprised that you're sitting here, he can hardly believe it. Warmth flows through him and he can't wipe the smile from his lips. He slowly takes your wine and sits down opposite you. "We didn't find a solution to our problem with the Lords yesterday." if you plan to come to him in the evening until you've found a solution, he wish there wasn't one.

Three evenings later you are sleeping in his bed again, two weeks later you snuggle up in his arms before you go to sleep and in the morning you kiss his cheek before you set off to see your dragon. Cregan can hardly believe his luck. You open up a little more every day, now you reach for his hand yourself, brush strands of hair from his face, kiss his cheek, lean into his embrace.

But suddenly you start to close yourself off again. It started with you not waiting for him in his chambers one evening, you send a servant to excuse you for that night. He thought you might be sick. But you don't come the next day either, he doesn't see you all day. In the morning he sees Silverwing flying over Winterfell towards the south, the sun is already hanging low on the horizon in the evening when the dragon lands again in front of the castle gates. Cregan feels like you're slipping away from him again. His heart aches at the thought. Did he do something wrong? Was he rude to you without realizing it? Was the longed-for closeness you built up just in his head?

Neverless Cregan was able, or rather you were able, to settle the arguments between the Lords a little. From your place at the high table, you reminded them in a gentel voice that everyone only wanted the best for the North and how wonderful it is that the Northern Lords were fighting the winter together. A little lie that you told, a smile and even Lord Bolton's tense features softened. It's a step in the right direction.

You hardly give him a smile anymore. Cregan doesn't know what's wrong. He is frustrated and sad. In his mind he goes through every moment, looking to see if he has done something wrong. He doesn´t find an answer.

His steps lead him through the corridors of Winterfell, he wants to go to Rickon. Because of all the work and his spiraling thoughts about you, he hasn't visited his son much in the last few days.

He hears laughter from the nursery, recognizes Lady Selina and Lady Aly's voices. Without knocking, he opens the door. The two ladies flinch at their place in front of the fireplace, the conversation falls silent. They both jump up, curtsy briefly and greet him with a "My Lord Stark." Both Ladys exchange a nervous look, Creggan's stomach tightens. He has the feeling that something is wrong but he doesn´t know what it is.

"Papa." Rickon jumps up from the carpet, his toy dragon falls to the floor and he runs to him. Cregan bends down to his son and takes him in his arms.

"Leave us alone," he dismisses the ladies. He wants to spend a little time with his son, show him that he is important to him despite all the stress. Rickon should never think that his father doesn't love him. Alys and Selina leave the nursery. Cregan puts Rickon down again and sits down on the floor next to him. Rickon immediately has his toy figures in his hand again.

"Are you coming to play?" he asks and holds out the dragon figure to him, big eyes sparkle at him and a radiant smile is on his lips.

"Yes." Cregan answers and takes the dragon, it looks small in his hand.

"That's my favorite toy."

"Not the knight anymore?" Cregan laughs quietly.

"No, no." says Rickon in a serious voice, as if it were the most important thing in the world. "The dragon. It was a gift from my princess."

Now Cregan can't hold back his laughter. "Your princess?"

"Yes." Rickon nods.

"You mean my wife, my dear. You really like her a lot, don't you?"

"Yes, I like her a lot." suddenly his eyes turn sad and he rips the toy out of his father's hand, pressing it to his chest. Cregan frowns, wants to scold Rickon, but he is already speaking again. "But she doesn't like me anymore." his voice trembles. Cregan has to swallow at the sight, puts a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Why do you think that? She likes you a lot."

"But why doesn't she play with me anymore? She hardly ever comes to visit me. Only when the teacher is there. She doesn't want to play with me at all, she just wants to supervise my lessons." he sounds defiant, as only children can, and Cregan has to sigh. He doesn´t have a answer for his son.

Why are you behaving like this? You wanted to take care of him and you enjoyed it. You often told him how much you enjoyed spending time with his son, what a good boy he is. That you love him like he is your son. Cregan has a bad feeling. He knows that something is wrong, even if he can't quite put his finger on it.

The door opens and you step uncertainly into the room, your gaze wanders around the room and then stops at Cregan and Rickon. A radiant smile appears on your face.

"My Lord husband." you say and nod slightly. Cregan is glad that you have finally stopped curtsying to him. "I didn't know you were here." Is he imagining it or do you sound relieved? Cregan doesn't know how to react to you now. Lately you have been acting absent and distant, shy like at the beginning. At other times you grab his hand, lean on his arm or smile at him with sparkling eyes when he speaks. He can't figure you out. "Can I sit with you?" you whisper, tearing him out of his thoughts. He nods and you sink down onto the carpet next to him and Rickon. His son immediately demands your attention, happy that you want to spend time with him.

It takes a few moments, but then Cregan lets himself be lulled by the warm, happy atmosphere. In these moments he completely forgets the thought of you withdrawing from him again. The time with his family is good for him, that is exactly what he always wanted. A happy family, safe behind the walls of Winterfell.

However his little bubble of family happiness bursts just a few hours later when Lady Darcy enters.

"My Lord Stark." she curtsies to him. "I'm here to pick up Rickon for his bath."

"No, I don't want to!" Rickon calls out. A single stern look from Cregan is enough to silence him. He stands up and takes a few steps towards Darcy. "Can my princess take me to my bath?" he asks quietly. Darcy rolls his eyes, looks at you, just like Cregan. You look at Dracy and then shake your head.

"Go with Lady Darcy." you say quietly, is your voice shaking? Rickon doesn't contradict and follows the nursemaid out of the room. Cregan turns to you with a smile, maybe you two can finally spend a little time toghether again, but you don't meet his gaze. When he reaches for your hand, you pull it away and jump up.

"Excuse me." your voice is quiet and you storm out of the room. Were those tears in your eyes? Cregan shakes his head, no, that can't be. The light was probably just reflected. He sighs and tries to fight down his anger and hurt because of your rejection.

He paces back and forth in his chambers. You haven't shown up for your evening meeting again. What's keeping you away? He just has to talk to you, he wants to find out what is bothering you. Did he make a mistake? Worry spreads through him and he sets off to look for you. His steps quickly lead him up the many stairs to Lady Stark's chambers.

Your chambers lie deserted before him. Cregans heart sinks. Where are you? It's almost midnight. You should be here. Did something happen to you? He is looking around your chambers. The chambers of Lady Stark are traditionally located at the top of the North Tower. They are the warmest chambers in the castle. Perfect for a dragon like you. Sweat beads on Cregan's forehead, yet he searches the chambers for a clue.

He feels guilty about looking at your private things, but he has no choice. Maybe you are in danger. Nothing seems unusual. To be honest, he can't be sure, he is hardly ever in your chambers. It is your private area, but it seems as if you only have a few things here. That surprises Cregan a little.

He goes to your desk, it is covered with papers, scrolls and letters. He knows that you write a lot to your family, and that you receive a letter from at least one of your family members almost every week. Only your father doesn't write to you, you told him that.

His gaze flicks over the first line of the letter you had started.

Mother, please. It's so terrible here.

He reads the first words and his heart aches painfully. Is it his fault? Do you hate him?

My husband Cregan is everything I could wish for, kind, tender, and warm; he has such a big heart. I love him. But the problem are the maids of the late Lady Stak. I wrote to you that it doesn't seem like they like me. But now it's getting worse.

I tried to take care of Rickon. Just like you always took care of Baela, Rhena, and me. He is such a sweet boy. But the Ladies are so terribly mean. I know they were Lady Norrey's friends, but I don't understand how they can be so horrible. What did I do wrong? I don't understand how I could have upset them so much that they hate me.

They say terrible things to me, I don't want to repeat them. Even bad things about our family. The insults hurt so much. The worst thing is when they laugh at me. I feel so stupid when they do that.

I don't want Rickon to find out about this, so I stay away from him. It breaks my heart. I'm afraid to talk to Cregan. I don't want them to lose their last connection to Lady Arra.

Please, I can't take it anymore. I want to go home. Please let me come home.

On the pages, there are small dark spots where your tears have dripped onto the paper and smudged the ink.

Why didn't you tell him anything? Guilt overcomes him. He should have known, he should have noticed something.

Hot anger towards the Ladies rises within him. He would love to have them all executed.

A growl catches his attention. With two steps, he is at the window. The full moon illuminates the night outside, the snow reflects the light. He sees a slender figure walking across the fields outside the Keep. Silverswing's massive body rises from the snow as you run towards your dragon.

Cregan whirls around and sprints down the stairs. Fear and worry burn in his heart. He pushes the door outward a little too hard. The wood creaks as it slams against the stone walls. Every breath burns in his lungs as he inhales the cold air. Nevertheless, his steps do not slow down.

Silverwing whirls her head around before you notice him. At the sudden movement, you slip and one of the bags you were just about to attach to the saddle falls from your hand. A few of your clothes fall into the snow. Cregan realizes that you really were about to run away. Run away from him. His heart hurts by this thought. The next moment he remembers himself that you are not running away because of him.

He calls your name. You whirl around, your look like a startled deer.

"Cregan." you whisper. He recognizes tears in your eyes, tear stains on your cheeks, your eyes are slightly red

"What are you doing?" he asks, while he tries to catch his breath. Cregan tries to let his voice sound as soft as possible, you already look like you will faint for fear every moment.

"I wanted to visit Silverwing," you lie, your hands cramps around the leather of the saddle. Silverwing lets out a growl. Cregan needs all his strength not to jump back in fright.

"Please come down." he almost begs, he stands much too close to the dragon for his liking. Silverwing is very gentle. You once told him that. Nevertheless, the hundred-year-old monster can swallow him in one gulp.

You hesitate. "Go back inside," you say then, but you don't look at him.

"No." his voice is firm now. "Either you come down voluntarily or I'll come up and get you." it's not a bluff, if he has to he'll climb on that dragon to get you down. Even if Silverwing will probably tear him into pieces before he even gets close to you.

Silverwing stretches out her wing, the claws on her forefoot digging into the snow just a few steps in front of him. Is that a threat? You look at your dragon, then swing to the side and slide down the wing. Without thinking, Cregan moves closer and catches you. You wrap your arms around him and he pulls you closer to him. Warm tears drip onto the skin at the crook of his neck. You sob, take a breath and try to say something, but only another desperate sound comes from your throat.

"I found your letter to the Queen." he admits. You tense up, wanting to pull away from him, but Cregan holds you tight. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want you to be angry."

Oh he is angry, but not at you. He would love to cut off the ladies' heads, but women are not executed in the North. The North is still a place of honor.

Now he lets go of you, pushes away slightly to look you in the face. He carefully wipes the tears from your cheek. You lean into his touch, sighs quietly and closes your eyes. Cregan leans forward and kisses your forehead.

"What did they say to you?" he then whispers.

You swallow, open your eyes before you start to speak. "At first it was just little taunts. But over time it got worse and worse. They said I would ruin the North, that many people would die next winter because of my stupidity." the tears come back to you eyes and you have to sob. Cregan pulls you into his arms again, strokes your hair as you bury your face in his chest.

"Those are lies. You did nothing wrong. On the contrary, you are a great Lady Stark."

"But that wasn't even the worst part. They also said that I am not good enough for you. That you only put up with me because you were forced to marry me. They said that you will never love me and that there is only room in your heart for Lady Arra, that she is your first and only love and I am just an intruder."

Cregan's heart breaks, he knows that you took the Nursemaids at their word. Again he pushes you away, carefully puts his hand under your chin and forces you to look at him.

"Those are lies too. Yes, I loved Arra. But that doesn't mean that I can't love you. You are not an intruder. I want you here with me."

Tears well up in your eyes again. "What about the Ladies?" you ask quietly, but keep eye contact.

"I will throw all three of them out first thing tomorrow morning. Let the Others get them, I don't care. Maybe Silverwing wants a little snack."

The dragon lowers its head to you, looks at Cregan as if she agrees.

"Rickon needs them."

"No. Rickon only needs me and you, his family." Cregan insists. His son will cope with the loss, he is sure of that.

"I would like to be your family."

Cregan has to smile at your words. "I love you, sweet wife." he whispers. Your lips open slightly as you look at him in surprise. Then you stand on your tiptoes and kiss him gently. His heart almost burst, butterflies explode in his stomach and despite the cold night he feels warm.

You sink back on your feet, your cheeks are red, but you smile. Silverwing blows hot air from her nostrils towards Cregan, he flinches back and you giggle.

"That means she likes you."

"And what about you? Do you like me too?" he asks, his lips twisting into a grin.

"I thought you read my letter to Rhaenyra." you say, also grinning."

Please say it anyway."

"I love you, my sweet husband." Cregan leans down and seals your lips with a kiss.

[itsswritten]

Earth's Song

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 795 (she's a drabble)

Warnings: Difficult birth is briefly mentioned no major details though.

Summary: Fairies are made for the wind & sun <3

Wings Masterlist

You could see it, just beyond the archway. Only a step away, the golden streams of rays filtering over the flowers. The breeze, a scent of fresh grass, pollen and peonies filling your senses– so close you could almost taste it. The melody of the earth was calling to you, its creatures and plants singing in a verse only you could hear upon your arrival. Your lips tugged into a gentle smile across your tired expression. 

Oh you had missed this.

A soft gurgle pulled you from your musings, your gaze settling down on the little bundles that were swaddled to your front. Your babes, twin sons. Only weeks old. Could they hear it too? The earth's music? it’s song, it’s heartbeat– you were sure they could. Certain they felt it in their bones just like you.

“Isn’t it wonderful..”, you whispered to them, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on the tops of their heads. Wefts of hair as dark as their fathers atop, and their scent so inexplicably yours and his.

“My love…” Azriel spoke, an ache in his tone that seemed consistent with any action you did nowadays. You had tried to step forward, feet moving past the tiles of the River House subconsciously into the outside that was calling you–calling your sons too. Any action you seemed to make these past few weeks only made your mates heart lurch.

“Azriel…” your tone was gentle but firm, your free hand subconsciously rubbing the backs of your babes who were nuzzled against your chest. Their eyes slowly opened and closed under the gentle glow of the sun that reached within the doorway of the house. “I want to– need to feel the earth,” you replied. 

It had been several weeks since you had been outside, several weeks since you brought your baby boys into this world. The birth had been difficult. A thought you didn’t want to dwell on, but something you knew was still very prevalent as you felt your mate's supportive hand press against the small of your back. His free hand still looped with your arm for stability.

It had taken a great deal of convincing for him to bring you here, to let your boys experience the world beyond the safety of the house walls. Azriel, ever the protective Shadowsinger, had been beside himself when he’d almost lost you. The birth of your twins—Illyrian-winged miracles born of a meadow faerie—had been far from easy. The ordeal had left you in a deep, unnatural slumber, robbing you of those precious first days with your sons. It was a cruel twist of fate, one that left you fragile in body and spirit. Even the sacred traditions of your kind had been set aside in the wake of it all.

And well, Azriel’s protectiveness had grown to a level you didn’t know was possible. You understood though. Didn’t blame him; if the roles were reversed, if you’d almost lost him, you weren’t sure what kind of person you’d become in the aftermath. But you were still here. Healing, growing stronger with every passing day.

So you convinced him, explained to him how fairies were made for the wind and sun, your boys, despite only being half of you– needed this too.

You watched as your mate hesitated, bringing you this far had gone against every instinct he had, but as he gazed into your reassuring smile he nodded. Gently moving with you, each step at a time. Your bare feet feeling the soft grass under your pads. The sensation sent a shiver through your body and as you began to ground yourself tears filled your eyes.

The evening sun basked it’s golden hour upon your skin, it’s rays warming your flesh in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks. You had missed this. 

Your babes stirred softly, their tiny forms swaddled snugly against your chest. Their warmth grounded you further. You inhaled deeply, the scent of the flowers and the earth beneath your feet blending with the faint sweetness of your sons.

Azriel’s wings rustled softly behind you as he stepped closer, his shadowed presence a constant comfort as you let yourself lean back against him. You glanced up at him, your tear-filled eyes meeting his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. 

Wordlessly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead, his gaze moving to his sons pressed against you with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “I love you– I love you all so much,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion.

Your smile was the only reply he needed. Your expression looking fuller than it had done in weeks. And then you hummed, eyes closed as you harmonised along to the earth’s song.

a/n: a little wings drabble, our first snippet at seeing the baby boys...which yes I've finally landed on names. Introducing...Rune & Rain <3

wings universe: @minaethrym @megscabinetofcurios @scorpioriesling @dottedhalfnotes

Permanent taglist: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria @writingcroissant @searchingforbucky

[bat-mom-writer]

Not Just A Mother

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: You married Bruce Wayne, not out of love, but because Bruce wanted a mother figure for his sons. But what happens when Bruce starts showing a more caring side?

Want a more angst and spicy arranged married come together? Check out Closet Confession.

(I do NOT own any DC characters)

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"Tim, did you finish your homework?" You called out, your footsteps echoing through the grand hallways of Wayne Manor as you made your way to your non biological son's room.

"I'll get it later," Tim's voice drifted back, a hint of procrastination in his tone.

"Not a chance, young man," you responded firmly, your heels clicking against the marble floor. "You know the rules. No gadgets or superhero shenanigans until your schoolwork is done. So get off the computer."

Tim sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving his computer. "Ten more minutes," he protested, his fingers typing away at lightning speed.

You signed but said nothing more upon stopping at the open door of Tim's room. You knew Bruce didn't appreciate you interference in nightly heroics, but you had your own way of managing the boys. Just as you was about to remind Tim of the consequences, a deep voice resonated from behind you.

"Listen to your mother, Tim."

You spun around to face Bruce, who had emerged from the shadows of the hallway. His gaze was stern but not unkind, the same look he often gave when you discussed the boys' schooling. You felt a small twinge of relief that he wasn't upset with your intervention.

Tim looked up from his computer, his eyes wide with surprise. He had never heard Bruce call you "mother" before. It was always Mrs. Wayne or by your name. The change in tone was subtle but significant, hinting at a shift in their relationship that none of them had anticipated.

Your cheeks flush under Bruce's eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You noticed the warmth in his smile and the way he held your gaze for a beat too long. You felt a strange mix of comfort and discomfort, the kind that comes with the sudden realization that the ground beneath you is not as solid as it once seemed.

Bruce gave a curt nod before turning to leave. His footsteps grew quieter as he moved away, the sound of his retreating figure leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of his behavior. Was it the stress of their sham marriage finally getting to him? Or perhaps a genuine affection that had been buried beneath layers of duty and obligation?

Over the next few days, Bruce continued to act more affectionate towards you, slipping in gentle touches and kind words where there had once been a stoic distance. You felt torn between acknowledging the change and fearing it was just a temporary shift in mood. After all, their marriage was built on a foundation of convenience, not love. You're there to provide a stable home life for his sons, not to be the object of his affection.

One evening, as Bruce sat in his study, you gathered your courage and approached him, clutching a set of documents in your hands. "I need to talk to you about something," you began, your voice tentative. "It's about a new deal that's been offered to the company."

Bruce looked up from his paperwork, his eyes reflecting the glow of the computer screens. "What is it?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"It's about a new acquisition," you said, looking down at the papers. "The board thinks it's a good opportunity."

Bruce took the papers from you, his hands brushing against yours for a moment longer than necessary. You felt a spark of electricity, and you quickly withdrew your hand, hoping he hadn't noticed. You watched as he skimmed through the pages, his brow furrowing slightly as he digested the information.

"What's your take on it?" he asked, his gaze still on the contract.

"I...I don't know if it's my...my place to say, Mr. Wayne" You stuttered, your heart racing. You had never been one to voice your opinions in matters like this.

Bruce's gaze lifted from the documents, his eyes locking with your. "Your opinion is important to me," he said firmly. "We're partners in this, remember?"

The words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken promise. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Well," you began, your voice stronger now, "I think it's....sketchy. There's something about the terms that doesn't sit right with me."

Bruce's eyes never left yours as he listened intently. His thumb traced the edge of the paper, the only sign of his contemplation. "Then tell them I'm not interested," he said abruptly, handing the contract back to you.

Your eyes widened in shock. You had expected him to disagree, to argue the merits of the deal and the importance of the board's suggestions. Instead, he had deferred to your judgment, something he had never done before. "Are you sure?" you asked.

"Absolutely," Bruce said, his voice firm. "If it doesn't feel right, then it's not worth pursuing."

You took the contract, your hand trembling slightly. "But the board…" your trailed off, unsure how to voice your concerns without overstepping your boundaries.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "The board's job is to make suggestions," he said. "My job is to make decisions. And if my… wife," he emphasized the word, "thinks something's off, then I trust her judgment."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. It was the first time he had ever called you his wife without it sounding like a mere formality. You held the contract, your mind racing. "Thank you," you murmured. "I'll handle it."

Bruce nodded, his gaze lingering on yours. "You're welcome."

You retreated from the study, your thoughts in a whirlwind. The weight of the contract in your hands felt heavier than ever before. As you walked, the echoes of their conversation seemed to follow you, whispering of a newfound partnership and trust. You paused outside your study, taking a moment to collect yourself before returning to work. The manor felt different, as if the very air had shifted to accommodate a burgeoning emotion you hadn't anticipated.

Over the next few weeks, Bruce's affection grew more pronounced. He would join you for dinner, engaging in conversations that delved beyond the superficial. They discussed books, art, and the future of Gotham, sharing smiles and laughter that felt genuine and unforced. You found yourself looking forward to these moments, the tension in the air charged with something you dared not name.

One evening, after the boys had retired to their rooms, Bruce found you in the dimly lit Batcave, your eyes reflecting the glow of the monitors as you reviewed the night's intel. He approached you slowly, his footsteps muffled by the rubber soles of his boots. "I thought I was the night owl around here," he said with a teasing smile.

You startled, spinning around in the chair. "Mr. Wayne," you gasped, hand flying to your chest. "I didn't hear you come in."

Bruce chuckled, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. "It's Bruce," he corrected gently. "And I can see you've got everything under control."

Your cheeks colored as you nodded. "Just keeping an eye on things," you said, your voice quieter than usual. You felt self-conscious under his scrutiny, unsure how to react to his sudden interest in your nightly routine.

"Mind if I join you?" Bruce asked, his tone casual, yet it held a hint of something more.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. You watched as he made his way over to you, his movements fluid and silent. He leaned against the console, his eyes on the screens, but you knew he was really watching you.

"You know, this isn't where I expected to find you on our anniversary," he said, his voice low and warm.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had almost forgotten about the date, lost in the whirlwind of their new dynamic. Your swiveled the chair to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Anniversary?" you echoed, trying to keep your voice even.

Bruce nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, it's been a year since we made this… arrangement." He paused, searching for the right word, and you felt the weight of the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

"I… I had no idea at how quickly the year went by," you murmured, your eyes flicking to the floor before meeting his gaze again. "So much has happened."

"Yes, it has," Bruce agreed, his expression softening. "But I think we've made it work, don't you?"

You nodded slowly, your eyes moving to the side of the floor. "We have," you conceded. "For the boys."

"For the boys," Bruce echoed, but there was a hint of something more in his voice. He reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt through you. "Dance with me."

You looked at him, bewildered. The Batcave was the last place you'd would have ever imagined sharing a dance with your husband, especially considering their relationship had been more of a business transaction than a romantic union.

"What?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and doubt. The cold metal and concrete walls of the Batcave didn't exactly scream romance.

But Bruce didn't seem to notice the oddness of his request. He held out his other hand, his eyes earnest. "Just one dance."

Your heart racing, placing your hand in his, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He led you to the center of the Batcave, the place where so much strategy and planning took place. But now, it was just them, standing in the shadow of the Dark Knight's armor, the only music the hum of the computers and the distant echo of the city above.

He pulled you closer, his hand on your back while the other held your other hand. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, a stark contrast to the cool air of the underground lair. He was close enough that you could make out the scent of his cologne, the faint metallic scent of his suit mingling with it.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Let's pretend, just for a moment, that we're not Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne, but a couple who met under different circumstances."

Your pulse quickened. You knew the rules of your arrangement, knew that love had never been a part of the deal. Yet here you were, in the most unlikely of settings, with the potential for something you had never allowed yourself to imagine. Hesitating for only a moment, you stepped into the embrace, your body fitting against his as if it had always belonged there.

He began to sway gently, guiding you in a slow, rhythmic dance that seemed to defy the gravity of their situation. His hand rested on the small of your back, his other hand holding hers firmly, yet gently. You felt the muscles beneath the fabric of his suit, the strength and power of the man you had only ever known as your husband in name.

The sound of his deep, rich hum filled the cavernous space, a tune you didn't recognize but found oddly soothing. It was a moment of vulnerability you had never seen from him before, a side of Bruce Wayne that was as unguarded as the batcave was protected. As they danced, your head leaned into his chest, the steady beat of his heart echoing in your ears, mimicking the tempo of your own.

The tension between them grew palpable, a silent crescendo that seemed to vibrate in every atom of the room. You felt yout resolve wavering, the walls you had meticulously built to maintain the façade of your marriage threatening to crumble. You knew the truth – that you had developed feelings for him, feelings that had grown from a seed of respect and duty into a full-blown bouquet of love and longing.

"Bruce," you murmured, your voice shaky. "What are we doing?"

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "I'm just… trying to be a better husband to you."

The admission sent a tremor through you, and you pulled away slightly to look up at him. His eyes searched yours, a question and a plea melded into one. Your chest tightened as you read the hope and uncertainty in his gaze.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What changed?"

Bruce's expression grew serious, his eyes holding yours captive. "I've realized that life is too short to ignore what's right in front of us," he replied, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand. "I've watched you care for my sons, for this city, and for me. You've become more than just a part of this arrangement. You've become a part…of me."

The words hung in the air, a confession that resonated through the very foundation of the Batcave. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that he was just playing a part. But what you found was a vulnerability you had never seen before, a crack in the armor of the man who was both Bruce Wayne and Batman. You were speechless, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Leaning closer, his cheek brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered near your ear, the heat of his breath sending a rush of emotion through yours. "Please," he whispered, "give me a chance."

Your heart was a tumult of emotions – hope, fear, confusion. But you knew that you couldn't ignore the feelings that had been growing within you for so long. You nodded, the barest of movements, but it was enough.

Bruce's hand slid to your cheek, cupping it gently as he leaned in and kissed you. It was a soft kiss, filled with a year's worth of unspoken emotions. You melted into it, your arms slipping around his neck as you gave in to the warmth that had been building between them. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and you could feel the tension in his body, the years of holding back finally released.

You broke apart, breathing in quite pants, your eyes locked. Your heart raced, your mind reeling with the implications of what was happening. "Bruce," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"My wife," Bruce said, the words sounding unfamiliar, yet right. He searched your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. "You are my wife. I want to act like the husband I know you truly deserve."

"What about the boys?" You asked, your voice a soft murmur.

"They're our priority," Bruce assured you, his hand sliding from your cheek to your hand again. "We just now have… some extra perks to our partnership." He offered you a tentative smile, and you couldn't help but return it, feeling the weight of your situation lighten just a little.

For a moment, you two just stood there, holding onto each other, the reality of your feelings finally out in the open. The silence was comfortable, filled with the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling together.

[hanafubukki]

Imagine having soulmates in Twisted Wonderland. Soulmates could be platonic or romantic.

Soulmates were connected in various ways. Some had the red string of fate, some the other’s eye color, some had words on the body, and others could hear voices.

For Lilia Vanrouge, it was colors.

He couldn’t see certain colors until he met his soulmates.

The first time he saw the color silver was when he was introduced to Meleanor Draconia. Her clothing and jewelry gave way to her status but also her fierce nature.

The first time he saw the color blue was when he met Levan. What a fitting color for somone so kind and calm. The perfect complimentary color to silver.

The years pass on, and yet, Lilia still couldn’t see certain colors.

What was green, purple, and red to him? When he had never known them? Who knew it would change his life so drastically when he first saw them?

The first time Lilia sees green; it appeared at the time of Malleus’ birth. The sharp acid color stood out to him as he hold onto the little fae. So feisty and rebellious just like his mother with fire spitting out of his mouth. As kind as his father as the baby fae then licked at his cheek in regret of any injury he may have given. A son born out of his love.

The first time Lilia sees purple; it came about on a whim. Visiting an old castle with years of memories. Holding a babe close as the little one cried. Purple eyes emphasized by tears. The little one calming as Lilia hummed him a loving lullaby, blessing the babe right after. A son he learned to love.

Lilia saw the world in an almost complete picture. He was content with that. Not many can say they had met their soulmates. Especially someone like him, who was graced with five.

Not to say he wasn’t curious about his missing one at times. Who was it that bore the color red?

The color known for passion, desire, and happiess?

A color symbolizing destined fate?

Imagine his surprise, when he met with you one day, and he suddenly saw the color red.

What a beautiful color it was.

He understood, then, the significance of the color red and its’ tie to you.

Your passionate nature.

Your desire to live life the way you wanted.

Your desire for happiness for yourself and for others.

You who would somehow end up bringing a smile to everyone’s face, be it fond or exasperated. The way you brought one to his just by being you.

You certainly charmed him, had him falling for you.

Was it the way you smiled at him? Maybe it was when you helped with his pranks?

The way you stood up to him when it came to his family? Maybe even how you would help him cook meals despite other’s warnings.

Or maybe it was the way he allowed himself to be vulnerable to you as he gradually let you into his heart? A place he rarely let anyone in.

How he looked forward to seeing you every day? Making him look forward to the future and not run from it.

The kisses you both would share in the hallways or in your rooms? The gentle and sometimes teasing touches. Your eyes shining bright as the stars in the sky as if he was your world as you had surely become his.

Lilia knew.

It was everything about you that ensnared him so irrevocably.

Red.

It also has another meaning, didn’t it?

It was the color of love.

His world complete.

It was filled with love.

It was truly beautiful.

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, Trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, Trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—with you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[100hearteyes]

I can't get this canon divergent headcanon off my mind: Nicky isn't marked for death at birth.

Instead, when he's born, Rio is right next to Agatha. Not because she has to take him away, but because she wants to be there.

Hours later, Agatha and Rio sit together under a tree, shoulders pressing and foreheads almost touching. They are mostly silent. When they speak, it's all hushed tones and lazy smiles.

Nicky is on Agatha's lap. The exhaustion of pregnancy and labour sits deep in her bones, elated and heavy and hungry, and she knows she will need to feed later. For now, though, she just wants to watch Rio play with their baby's tiny fingers and tickle his tiny feet, Death and new life so entranced with each other.

Agatha is at her most vulnerable, at her most open, her most comfortable and carefree and free. Her voice doesn't even carry that edge, the lilt and inflection that carries so many lies and masks so many truths. Here, with her two loves, Agatha Harkness is all awed whispers and tender smiles.

"We made this," Agatha breathes out, still in wondrous disbelief. She catches Rio's eyes, brimming with tears just like her own, and smiles, before planting a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead. "You and I, my love. We made him from scratch."

And Rio, gentle and loving like she only ever is with Agatha, can't hold in a soft smile as she takes in the flower of their love, so much like the ones she gives Agatha every time they meet — but this one has little toes and chubby fists and big brown eyes just like her own and he lives and he breathes and he smiles.

She wonders how she can be a mother to this creature, this miracle boy, when her job, who she is, already keeps her away from Agatha too much. How will this child grow up healthy and kind when one of her mothers kills witches to live and the other lives to collect their souls? It clutches her black heart, claws digging into it and squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

Until she looks up and finds Agatha already staring at her, and the claws loosen their grip with a sigh and a smile. Today, she can stop thinking. She can just feel the joy of her miracle.

Rio kisses one of baby Nicky's cheeks twice, "One for me and one for your mama."

Tomorrow, when Agatha has sated her hunger and Rio needs to leave, she will kiss her son's rosy cheek twice more.

Today, however, Rio looks at this boy and she can't even make sense of the immensity of the love she feels for him. And she thought that her black heart would not have space for more, what will how full it already was with her love for Agatha — but maybe it has doubled in size, because what she feels for Nicky is just as big and it somehow still fits.

Even as the terror of absence threatens to crawl its way back into her heart, Rio takes comfort in knowing that many days after tomorrow, she will return to her family and she will twice kiss her son's cheek again, "One for hello and one for the next goodbye."

The weight of Agatha's head on her shoulder pulls her back to the present. Rio takes the baby from her love's arms and holds him close to her heart.

Mother and son sleep peacefully, now. Rio presses her lips to Agatha's head, remembering all the hello's and goodbye's they have collected over the decades, and it makes her feel a little more sure that they can do right by Nicky even through the death and the hunger and the absence. Love perseveres.

[ghostbeam]

Oblivi_n.exe | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Touya Todoroki, known as ‘Dabi’ to the league, quirk class: cremation, mech title: Blue. You’re his new handler. 

As Dabi’s new handler, you’re well aware of his history, how frequently he goes through handlers assigned to him. Not that he ever uses them—it’s more complete resistance. You’re not particularly good at your job. Transferred from the PLF for lack of success in handling any of their pilots, you’ve always been far too gentle. You lack authority. Your pilots never respected you. You don’t think Dabi will be any different. You give it a week. 

Notes: okay wow hiiiii it’s been a long time since I’ve posted an actual fic (nearing almost a year now😬) this is something I’ve been working on for a bit. I have mech brain rot curtesy of @streimiv and @hawnks (both of whom this is dedicated to bc there’s no way I could have written this without yapping to them abt it and also mint helped me come up w the acronym for HERO’s) and we’ve all got our own mech fics in the works atm but anywayssssss this is kind of my baby atm but I hope it makes sense it’s very inspired first and foremost by pacific rim and then also NGE (mostly through consumption of YouTube vids bc I haven’t actually watched it pls don’t hate me) it’s a whole mess of things and Dabi is kind of a bitch and reader is slowly coming into herself and at the end of the day they both wanna be metal fused to one another forever (no matter how hard he denies it) also I’m not a huge computer person idk if this title makes sense so don’t make fun of me pls ok anyways I hope u like it!!!!

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, pilot!Dabi x handler!reader, there’s no explicit sexual content in this part, not even a kiss sorry guys, mentions of robot gore (exposed wires, insides described as guts), brief descriptions of being trapped inside a small space, descriptions of burning while inside said space, mention of surgery to fashion a metal jaw onto someone, mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic just allusions to the todoroki family and touya’s past), angst, many run on sentences, a small cliff hanger

Words: 7.9k

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 (coming soon)

You are nothing without your machine.

It’s the first rule, the first thing beaten into his brain by his father. You carry the burden of the mech alone, or you’re weak. You don’t exist. 

U.A. raises the best and brightest pilots, navigators, mechanics, and handlers, each one carefully trained to ensure the most important outcome: winning. It should be protection. It should be defense. But if Touya has learned anything at all, it’s that winning means glory. It means worship. It means HERO’s (Human Engineered Robotic Objects) are saints, and pilots are gods. 

 Touya used to be one of those best and brightest before his accident. 

First son to Enji Todoroki, Touya was supposed to be the golden child, the first Todoroki to pilot without a handler. He was supposed to carry the burden alone, something his father couldn’t do, something only one man has ever actually been capable of. 

But Touya is born weak, bad bones, a brain unable to handle all that the mech needs to unload onto it. One too many accidents results in him being expelled from the pilot program, his HERO discarded and collecting dust in its pod, and Touya is promptly transferred to mechanics. 

It should have been a smooth transition. If one kid can’t handle it, the next will. Because they have to. 

He doesn’t take the news well. It’s a fit of tears, a persistent fight, unable to accept the loss of his machine—of his body. Because Touya loves it. What he lacks in strength, he makes up for in pure passion, and despite being unable to handle the burden, there’s no denying that he’s good. He’s almost perfect. 

But almost is not enough for Enji Todoroki, and no matter how hard Touya tries, he’s made up his mind. 

After months of mechanics, Touya makes a decision. When the next fleet of HERO’s is deployed for the next kaiju battle, Touya sneaks in among the chaos, tucked neatly inside the chest of his machine where he belongs. It doesn’t take long for things to go south, for Touya to get caught in the crossfire, losing control of his mech and burning from the inside out. 

It should be an excruciating death, stuck inside a machine made for war, fire raining from above as a battle continues on outside without him. 

But he survives, because what he lacks in strength, he makes up for in resilience, and his mech is programed with solutions to every situation. He’s stuck inside for months before he’s found.

Tomura Shigaraki rescues him, pries open the chest of his mech and pulls him from inside. His group feeds him, takes him in, fashions a new jaw for him made from the metal of his mech, and allows him the decision to join their cause or go back home. 

And since there’s no home to go back to, Touya finds his footing with the league and becomes one of their top pilots. One who vehemently resists any and all handlers.

…

Touya Todoroki, known as ‘Dabi’ to the league, quirk class: cremation, mech title: Blue. You’re his new handler. 

As Dabi’s new handler, you’re well aware of his history, how frequently he goes through handlers assigned to him. Not that he ever uses them—it’s more complete resistance. You’re not particularly good at your job. Transferred from the PLF for lack of success in handling any of their pilots, you’ve always been far too gentle. You lack authority. Your pilots never respected you. You don’t think Dabi will be any different. You give it a week. 

Following closely behind Tenko, formerly Tomura, he quickly explains to you the in’s and out’s of the pilot/handler relationship, along with a warning about Dabi’s resentment toward the whole idea. You try to keep up, but he talks quickly and uses his hands a lot. Even so, you can tell he’s a natural leader, something he had to grow into after overthrowing the man who raised him. His story is a tragic one, and it resonates with you because Tenko came out the other side stronger. Now, the league is a community with a cause, one you really believe in. Even if you and Dabi aren’t the right fit, you still have a place here. 

You follow Tenko into what he calls the garage, a large floor of the abandoned academy that serves as the league’s base, this part of it full of HERO’s and mechanics all focused on the machines in front of them. It’s completely different from how HERO’s were worked on at UA, where you grew up, and even the PLF didn’t have one dedicated floor to this sort of work. You can feel the energy of the room buzzing on your skin, music blasting from old radios and mechanics tossing tools towards one another in a familiar routine. Tomura leads you to Dabi and his HERO, Blue, though you’re instructed not to call it a HERO around him. With goggles over his eyes and gloved hands, he brings two wires from Blue’s ankle together, sighing at the way they spark each time they connect. 

“Dabi.” Tomura calls over the music coming from the radio hanging off of Dabi’s waist. He drops the wires and his gaze flickers toward the two of you. Pushing his goggles up to his forehead, he gives you a once over. His eyes are the brightest you’ve ever seen—kaiju blood blue—and burn scars litter his body. He’s striking in a way you’ve never seen, almost too beautiful to be human. Giving Dabi your name, Tomura explains that you’re taking over as his handler, seeing as he couldn’t keep the last one for more than a couple of days. “She’s your last handler. If you can’t keep this one, then go ahead and fry your brain. See if I care.”

“You say that every time.” Dabi calls from around sucker as Tomura walks away, leaving you alone with your new pilot. 

You just your hand out in a greeting, “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Eyeing your hand, Dabi shakes his head and turns his back to you, picking the two wires back up and connecting them again, despite the same spark from before igniting between the two. He looks back up at Blue, touching his fingers to the slim lines starting at the back of her ankle and running all the way up her leg. You peak over his shoulder at the wiring, noticing that he’s connecting two of the wrong ones. 

“It’s the wrong wire.” You tell him, and he spins around to look at you, tearing his goggles from his face as he scoffs. 

“Here we go.” He sighs with a roll of his eyes, pulling the candy from his lips and tossing it onto the tool cart without a care. “Handler know-it-all bullshit. This is my mech.”  

You push passed him and grab the similarly colored wire from beside a red wire and connect it with the one in Dabi’s right hand. Blue lights up cyan through the thin lines that run along each of its limbs and torso, connecting with the two cameras within its head, which seem to blink before the light reaches them. 

In an instant, you’re being pushed up against the hard metal, a strong arm over your chest—pinning you up against the HERO. Dabi, now having discarded his goggles, looks at you full of white, hot rage. 

“Don’t fucking touch her.” He growls. You’re suddenly aware of the close proximity, eyes flickering between the snarl across his lips and his angry gaze. For a beat, you both freeze, the air suddenly charged like you’re waiting for one another to strike. Snapping yourself out of his hypnotic stare, you push against his chest, forcing him to let you go. 

“If I’m going to be you’re handler, you’re going to have to trust me with her.” You remind him. He lets out a harsh laugh, like he can’t believe you would suggest such a ridiculous idea. 

“I don’t trust anything but this machine.” He speaks, turning away from you to seal up the machine’s exposed wires. It’s a challenge you’re willing to accept.

“Well, I’m here to change that.” You tell him, before turning on your heel to leave him alone. 

He thinks he’ll give you a week. 

…

One of the worst parts of being assigned a handler, Touya thinks, is the way that pilot/handler living quarters are set up. He assumes the academy, before it was abandoned and turned into a base for the league, created this sort of set up so that handlers could keep a close eye on their pilots. The handlers Touya has burned through up until now also assumed the same. 

The door that connects both the pilot’s and handler’s dorms doesn’t lock, and all of Touya’s past handlers have taken advantage of this fact. He’s been pulled out of bed far too early, pushed around and commanded and barked at. Most handlers behaved as if pilots belonged to them, which was the sentiment drilled into their brains from being thrown into such a fucked up system at a young age.—unless you were a pilot of status like a Todoroki. While he league dedicates a lot of its time to reversing these ideas, most handlers look at Touya like some kind of challenge, this arrogant pilot begging to be tamed. It never takes long for them to realize how easily he’s able to flip the switch on them. You’ll be no different.

But hours pass and you still haven’t entered. You don’t swing the door open and demand he apologize for his behavior earlier. You don’t try and punish him with training regimes, a command of a set of push ups, a schedule you expect him to follow, an extremely detailed meal plan. The entire evening comes and goes without so much as a sound on the other side of the door so he knows you’re even behind it. 

He falls asleep unnerved by this, waking up late into the night in a cold sweat, expecting you to barge in, rip the covers from his body and demand to train together. When he wakes up (peacefully) the next morning, there’s no sign of you. He rises from his bed, drinks orange juice straight from the carton and eats a candy bar for breakfast. He fiddles with the navigation screen from his mech that stopped working a couple of days ago, tools spread out on the counter in front of him. Once he’s got the thing working again, your knock sounds from the unlocked door between the two of you. He thinks this might be it, the commands he expects to fall from your lips at the ready as he swings the door open, but you stand there, nervous, hands twitching as your eyes finally meet his.

Greeted by a shirtless Touya, hair mused from sleep, cargo pants hung low on his hips, dog tags swinging against his chest, his scars on display, unashamed and proud. The sight of him knocks the breath out of you, and you clear your throat in embarrassment, hoping your state of dreaming comes off as nerves rather than lust. 

“Dabi. Or do you prefer Touya?” You smile. When he doesn’t answer, you continue. “I wanted to see if you wanted to eat breakfast together in the caf. I think we should start over. Yesterday was—”

You’re promptly cut off, “I already ate breakfast.”

With a harsh slam of the door, he leaves you stunned in your room.

You eat alone. 

When you started as a pilot, back when you’d entered UA (a few years about Touya’s accident), you went into it believing you could change the world. The exam had placed you into the position of handler, and you were assigned a pilot who had always seemed a little frightened of you despite your obvious lack of authority. Bringing the fact up to your instructors did nothing. They all assured you that this was the ideal dynamic, that the handler always had the upper hand, but you hated that feeling. You weren’t a team like you expected to be; you were urged to control your pilot. You were there to keep them in line, not to be a pillar of support. The bond was never built on trust, and the soul link was always a looming threat. No matter how many pilots you went through, the link was never held as a gift, but a prison, something you would both be stuck with for the betterment of society, a sacrifice to make. 

You’d been expelled from the handler program after guiding your pilot to help save another in the wreckage of your first battle together, resulting in the damage of your pilot’s HERO. Your pilot was okay, but the other couldn’t be saved, and you were blamed for the damage of both mech’s. 

When you found the league (or when the league found you), you were working with the PLF, but proved to be a weak handler. Every pilot you were assigned to took advantage of your optimistic outlook on the kind of relationship dynamic that pilots had with their handlers. Despite all that you had been through at UA, and with the rest of the pilots you’d been paired with after, you never gave up the hope that handlers and pilots could behave as a team, or, even better, one entity. 

Tenko had taken one look at you and demanded you’d be transferred to the league. There hadn’t been much of a choice in the matter, not that you really cared. You were miserable everywhere else. But when you arrived at the abandoned academy and taken a peak behind the kudzu covered walls where each and every area of the building acted as multiple moving parts in collaboration with one another in order to create one massive system, you realized that this was the future you imagined for yourself—and for the world you lived in.

Tenko saw something in you that day, something you aren’t sure you even see in yourself. And so Dabi was your first task, one that’s proving to be very difficult. But he doesn’t treat you like all the other pilots before had. He doesn’t use you. In fact, it seems like he wants nothing to do with you. And while that’s a problem, it’s still one you can work with. 

You’re broken from your thoughts by the sound of a voice through an overhead intercom asking for everyone to meet on the first floor of the academy at their earliest convenience. Judging by the quick movements of those around you, you figure you’d better head downstairs as soon as possible. 

The meeting on the first floor makes you very aware of just how small the league really is. While it’s definitely not a tiny organization, it’s still much smaller than both UA and the PLF. With everyone piled up like this in one group, you realize it feels more like a community, and the hum of conversation that surrounds you comforts you in a way you’ve never felt within the walls of any other academy before. 

There’s discussion about the upcoming mission, one which may be the league’s most ambitious yet; the plan to hijack a mech and kidnap a pilot may be a little unorthodox compared to the league’s past missions, but the jaded pilot they’re targeting has a high chance of joining the cause. Or that’s what they have assumed. As the bodies move and speak around you, it strikes you how different this meeting is from any other meeting you’ve ever been a part of. Tenko is less a dictator and more a wrangler for the disembodied voices of your peers. 

You don’t know much about his story, save for the vague details you’ve heard, but Tenko’s status as a lone handler is something you find yourself curious about. If he’s able to work without a pilot, why can’t you? It’s an idea you keep in your back pocket, one you think you can fall back on if things with Touya don’t work out. But you want them to work out. So badly. 

You aren’t sure what it is about him, but he’s reignited that spark inside of you. You know he’d rather you give up, and maybe the you from a couple of months ago would have, but something about him—and this place—won’t let you leave. 

As you observe the meeting, you take the time to look around the room, taking in your peers and their attentive faces as they listen to Tenko intently. You turn to your right, your eyes meeting a pair of blue ones, impossible to miss. Dabi holds your stare for what feels like ages, and when your colleagues erupt in a fit of many simultaneous discussions, you tear your eyes from his to observe the commotion. When you glance back in his direction, he’s gone. 

You don’t seem him again after that. You train with other handlers, get to know your peers a little better. Everyone else seems to be welcoming, and most offer you sympathy when they find out you’re Touya’s new handler. From what you can gather, he’s had his fair share of them, all of which have quit or left in hysterics due to his harsh nature. When you ask around about where he could be, you’re told that he’s most likely in the garage, a place you assume he’s in more often than not.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to the garage. A place so completely different, so against the ideas and beliefs of any other academy you’ve been a part of, the chaos and community within is so foreign to you. You find Touya with Blue, working inside of her chest, where the cockpit is. 

“Touya!” You call up to him and watch as he peaks his head over the edge of her metal plating. Annoyance falling across his face, he jumps down from where he stands, landing hard on his feet in front of you. 

“What are you doing here?” He questions, his figure so tall and imposing above you. He’s not particularly muscular, not even all that tall compared to Tenko, but he makes you feel small regardless, in more ways than one. Rolling your shoulders back, you stare straight into his eyes, unwilling to back down. 

“I figured you wanted your space today.” You explain, as Touya moves around you to get to his rolling cart of tools, forcing you to turn toward him and follow him if you want him to hear you. “I know adjusting to a new handler is rough, and I never want to make you uncomfortable. But I was thinking we could try some of those pilot/handler bonding exercises. It might be good to start training like some of the others do.”

He drops the wrench in his hand onto his cart with a loud thud, turning around toward you with a look of disbelief on his face. “Pilot/handler bonding exercises? They really brainwashed the shit out of you at UA, huh?”

At the mention of your past academy, your eyes widen in surprise. You had no idea he knew about that. Clearing your throat in order to compose yourself, you speak again, “I left UA for a reason. I have no attachment to their methods, but you guys do the same stuff here, so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that I never asked for a fucking handler in the first place, especially not one as eager as you.” He spits, “Sure, you’re understanding now, all that bullshit about ‘giving me space,’ but the moment you get a lick of power over me, you’ll change. You’re not different.”

“I don’t want power over you. This is an equal exchange. Pilot’s and handlers are meant to be a team—” You try and argue, but he doesn’t let you finish. 

“That’s what they told you, right? We’re a team, and as teammates, you make sacrifices. And it doesn’t matter if one of you turns into the other’s braindead dog because that’s your place.” His words hit you hard, the exact thought process you went through when leaving UA, completely disillusioned with their idea of “teamwork.” He’s right, and you know it, but since coming here, you thought that wasn’t how it had to be.

“Look, trust me, I get—” You’re cut off again.

“You went to UA! There’s no trusting you.” He scoffs, “It’s not like you’ll last here, anyway.”

“You are such a hypocrite! You’re from UA!” You retort, throwing your arms up in desperation. “You can hate me all you want. You can resist and resist and fry your brain ‘till there’s nothing left, but I believe in this shit. And you don’t get to tell me that I don’t, or tell me I’ll turn into something I worked so hard to get away from.”

Touya stands there, surprised by your outburst, completely unaware that you were capable of all of that. He doesn’t say anything back, and you roll your eyes. “So fuck you, and, by the way, her angel port is smoking.”

At your words, he turns in a rush, seeing the smoke billowing from Blue’s chest as he climbs his way up her form. Once inside his machine, he extinguishes the port and allows himself to relax. There are two things on his mind in this moment: how you could have possibly known it was the angel port without being inside of Blue’s chest and how, for the first time in a long time, he feels bad for his handler.

But for you, it’s the first time you’ve ever held your own against a pilot before, and that feels good.

…

Something feels weird.

Off, unsettling, strange.

He realizes, much to his dismay, that it’s your absence. Despite only having you around for such a short time, Touya has realized that your lack of presence now feels wrong. He hates it. He hates you. 

He can’t find you. You haven’t knocked on his door. You’re not in the caf, not the garage, not the sparring floor, not in your room. And he did check—without knocking. 

He’s not even sure how he can feel an absence. You aren’t a regular part of his life, and he never wanted you to be. But he feels all fucked up.

During training, Touya jams Blue’s halo core and she leaks vibrant neon from between her ribs. It takes him half an hour to get her reboot her system and rips one of the cables attached to the back of his suit in the process. He spends the afternoon cleaning HERO fluid off the sparring floor. 

During repairs, he shocks himself over and over while trying to fix her core, fingers burning from the sparks each time he arranges the wires inside. The cameras in her eyes won’t work from the reboot, and Blue won’t let him unlock the lens panel to fix it. It’s almost like she’s mad at him too.

He’s a complete mess. It’s your fault. He has no choice but to go looking for you. Again.

He searches every wing of the academy before concluding that you’re in your room. He barges through the joint door, spotting you at the counter in your tiny kitchen. You’re surprised by the intrusion, a frightened gasp falling from your lips as you jump in your seat. You turn toward him, prepared with angry words on your tongue, but Touya speaks first.

“You’re not getting an apology out of me, so don’t expect it.” He begins, moving to stand in front of your swiveling kitchen stool as he looks down at you. “But I’m willing to be civil with you, so we don’t have to do this shit anymore.”

You’re not exactly sure what “this shit” is, but Touya looks a little worse for wear at the moment, so you don’t question it. He places a tray from the caf down in front of you that you hadn’t noticed in his hands upon arrival, says nothing else, and turns to leave the room. After shutting your joint door, you look down at the tray of food, noticing one of his suckers placed onto a vacant compartment of the tray. 

You’re greeted the next morning with a knock on your door, Touya dressed in his pilot’s suit on the other side as you swing the door open. “C’mon. You’re gonna watch me train today.”

You watch him turn around to leave, expecting you to follow. You rush to pull on your combat boots and grip your dog tags in your fist as you rush to catch up to him. He doesn’t spare you a glance as you fall into step beside him, taking a look around his dorm before he leads you through the exit door. 

“You need to get a feel for my fighting style.” He explains as you walk down the corridor. “I’m not saying I’ll listen to you when it comes down to it, but it’s important for you to know.”

You nod, agreeing that you should definitely observe him inside of his HERO. By understanding his moves, you’ll be able to understand the way he thinks, and you’ll be able to help him in actual combat if needed. He’s already said he won’t listen to you, but it won’t stop you from trying. He stops abruptly, turning to look at you, and you stop with him. 

“If we’re gonna do this, it’ll be on my terms. I’m not your dog.” He tells you, seriously. He eye’s you up and down, taking in your expression as you nod at his words. “If anything, you’re mine.”

He begins walking again, leaving you in your spot, irritation filling your chest as you watch him, smug. “Asshole.” You curse under your breath.

“What’d you say?” He barks, turning to look at you abruptly.

“You’re an asshole.” You speak louder. He walks back toward you, making sure to tower over you intimidatingly as he looks down at you in annoyance. His eyes flicker down to the tags around your neck before hooking a finger on the chain and pulling you closer. 

“Watch it.” He drops the chain and walks away again. 

You follow him to the sparring floor, and he shows you where to go to watch. Stood behind a large window that looks over the sparring area, other members of the base watch the HERO’s engage in combat below. You spot Tenko and he motions for you to stand beside him. 

“I knew he’d warm up to you.” He comments. The last of the previous battle finishes and you watch the two enormous machines retreat to the sides of the area, their pilots emerging from their chests with their handlers rushing to the bottom of the mech’s in support. 

“He hasn’t. He’s not.” You shake your head. You aren’t sure why you deny it, if it’s some way to keep your expectations low or if there’s some kind of embarrassment aspect to the whole thing. Whatever is happening between you and Touya feels intimate and private, something that the two of you need to figure out for yourselves, not something meant for the eyes of others.

“Hm. Okay.” Tenko shrugs. “Guess not.”

You hadn’t noticed Touya enter his mech at all. You see the swing of one giant mechanic arm, too close to the window you stand behind, and you’ve shifted your full attention to the scene at hand. 

The enormity of the room surprises you, despite the fact that you had seen it just moments before. But when you’re truly looking at it, watching these huge machines go at each other, the way the ground shakes, the leaves outside shake, the deep forrest clear in view from the wall that opens out to the greenery (the lack of a wall is likely from the academy’s abandoned state, but it’s a good feature to have on the sparring floor when giant robots are toppled over onto various surfaces).

The way Blue moves is electric, mechanic movements almost feel fluid with the way that Touya pilots her, easily dodging attacks from their opponent and moving around them in the most graceful way a giant machine can. It’s beautiful, unlike any fighting style you’ve ever seen in a HERO before. 

“He’s showing off for you.” Tenko observes from beside you. You don’t argue with him, only because you can’t dispute it. This is your first time seeing him in action. It makes your heart beat out of your chest. There’s this ache like you should be inside with him, cables connected to both of you, tucked neatly inside of Blue together. 

It doesn’t take him long to get his opponent on their back, the heavy thump against the floor jostling the ant-like figures on the ground below, handlers waiting for their pilots to finish. It goes on like this for a while, his training, using different methods of combat and winning each time. He’s amazing, and you can tell why his reputation is the way it is, second only to Tenko, who you have yet to see in action. 

When he finishes his last session, you watch Blue walk to the edge of the room, and Touya emerges from her chest, jumping the long way down her body without any issue. You watch as he looks toward the window you’re behind. He waves at you, an acknowledgment of your presence, and you wave back, though you aren’t sure he can actually see you.

It’s the beginning of everything for the two of you. You think Tenko was right.

He lets you stay with him afterwards while he does maintenance on Blue. He helps you climb up the path to her chest, hauling you over the edge to sit inside with him. He turns around abruptly, holding a hand up before allowing you to walk any further.

“Do not touch anything.” He warns, completely serious, before letting his hand fall and allowing you further into the cockpit. You take in your surroundings, the guts of his machine, analyzing the different control panels and screens that line the interior. You can tell he takes good care of her, and he spends a lot of time in here. It looks lived in, stickers stuck to metal plating and pieces of him all over. He’s made a second home in between the ribs of his mech. You feel a little jealous, though you aren’t sure of what. 

The two of you sit against the left side of Blue’s interior, waiting for her updates to finish, the loading screen on each of her monitors display a fire graphic that grows with the increasing percentage on screen. Between you and Touya sits an opened bag of sour gummies, which Touya picks out the lemon flavor and drops the candy in your palm with each new handful he gathers. 

“How do you know all this stuff?” He questions around a mouthful of sour cherry, “Like, the real names for things, where stuff goes, how to fix them. That day with the wires…”

“I spent a lot of time around mechanics at UA, and then also at the PLF.” You explain, picking the yellow colored candy from his open palm as you speak. “I couldn’t connect with other handlers. I didn’t like how they thought, or how they viewed the pilot/handler relationship. Mechanics were mostly neutral, and they loved these machines like nothing else. They reminded me of why I joined UA in the first place.”

“Hm.” He nods, thinking about your past. “Well, I guess if you spent so much time around actual professionals…I could maybe use your help sometimes in the garage.”

“Really?” You question excitedly, a spark lighting up your eyes as you swerve your head toward him. He feels something tight in his chest at the sight.

“Yes, but only on the outside. I don’t want you messing with her insides, yet.” He establishes. “And never alone. I have to be there at all times.”

“Of course, yes, oh my god. Touya!” You smile, gripping his shoulder firmly, a gesture of thanks, communication of how much his trust means to you. “I’ll be so careful with her, I promise.”

“Yeah, well, you have no other choice.” He shrugs, throwing another pile of candy in his mouth. “I’ll kill you if anything happens to her.”

You take the threat seriously, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s realized that you’ve wormed your way into his life and he hadn’t even noticed just how entangled you were now. 

As the weeks go by, you spend a lot more time together. You work on blue together, and you rest inside of her chest, sometimes allowing yourself to drift off against his shoulder on especially tiring days. He sits beside you in the caf, and while he doesn’t always say much, the feeling of his arm against yours is comforting. You can tell people are starting to notice, and they’re starting to talk. You’re being dubbed someone who’s tamed him, but you know how far from the truth that is. 

Despite your differences and the petty arguments that come up when Touya feels like you’re intruding on his independence, you’re growing attached. You wonder if he is, too.

…

Spending time together in the garage becomes the new normal for the two of you. Being in each other’s dorms feels far too intimate, so you always meet in the garage. This way, one of you is always busy doing something with your hands. There’s no room for any strange feelings in the pit of your stomach to seep in. 

You sit in the crook of Blue’s neck, watching Touya as he repairs the lenses in her “eyes.” Blue has three pairs of eyes; in her head, her chest, and down near her hips, which all footage is projected onto monitors inside the cockpit so that Touya has a full view of what’s in front of him. 

He’s so peaceful while he works, you’ve noticed, almost like he goes somewhere else completely. It’s a part of him you don’t think many people get to see, a piece of him just for you, and you want to be selfish with it.

“Can I ask you something?” You question, leaning your head back against the metal. “But you can’t get mad.”

He looks up at you, still fiddling with a lens, a mocking look on his face. “I’m not making any promises.”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the possible fallout of the question you’re about to ask, “What do you think about the soul link?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’d never do it.”

You nod your head in understanding, “yeah, I get it. It’s weird, right? The idea that someone else would be inside your brain.”

“It’s fucking invasive.” He says.

“You know, at UA it always felt like a threat, you know. Like, it was a way for a handler to control their pilot, not a tool or a bond like it should be.” You begin, thinking back to how you viewed the soul link back then. You didn’t like how the bond was presented as this power that a handler holds over their pilot, a threat to keep their pilot in line. But, you could understand how the link could be used for good. “But since coming here, I can tell it’s not all bad. People trust each other here. I mean, there’s obviously some people who abuse it, but, for the most part, everyone seems to understand what it really means to be a pilot and a handler.”

You’re mostly just thinking out loud, but Touya doesn’t say anything to your ramblings. He continues to work on the lenses, and you can gather that he doesn’t want to talk about the subject anymore. But you can’t let it go, yet. There’s something you’ve been worried about since you met him.

“And what about…your brain? They say when a handler and a pilot don’t complete the soul link, the pilot will eventually fry their brain.” You can’t help it. You think about it all the time, what will happen when he can’t take it anymore. The closer you get to him, the realer it feels. “Are you ever worried about that?”

He looks at you, an expression you can’t quite make out fall across his face as he stares. It’s almost soft, the way he looks at you in this moment. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

The truth is, this is a reality Touya has accepted. He’s not afraid to die, and he never has been. He’ll probably die inside of Blue, and he has no problem with that fact. He doesn’t need to be around for long, just enough to show his dad what he’s capable of.

“C’mon.” You stare. “That’s not fair.”

“Shit. I left some of the screws for this in my dorm.” He curses. He looks where you lounge, tucked into Blue’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”

You watch him jump down, much higher than his usual height at her chest, but he lands anyway. He doesn’t turn to look back at you as he jogs away. You climb up the side of Blue, and look at the lenses in her head. They’re already repaired, and you know Touya used the excuse of missing screw just so he wouldn’t have to talk about the soul link.

But it’s the first time he’s ever left you alone with Blue before. 

…

As the mission draws closer, Touya throws himself into training. You’re on the training floor with him most days, standing behind that big glass panel as you watch him spar with his peers. He still doesn’t let you down on the floor with him until he’s full out of Blue and close enough to the edge of the sparring floor to get to you. You’re not allowed in the actual training area, and even though he says he doesn’t want you clinging to him, it’s really because he wants to keep you safe. Seeing your human body near the giant machines that are HERO’s makes him want to grab you and keep you inside of Blue’s chest forever. 

You can tell all the training is taking a toll on him. With an excess of headaches and the occasional nosebleed, you continuously get into arguments about him cutting back on training inside of Blue. There are other ways for him to prepare that don’t involve his fragile brain being hooked up to an entity that takes so much. He doesn’t listen.

Later and later into the night, as your fellow pilots and handlers disperse and return to their rooms to sleep, Touya stays inside of Blue, testing her movements and sparring against test dummies and obstacles. Once you and Touya are the only two left on the sparring floor, you speak into the intercom attached to your head.

“Touya, I think you should take a break.” You tell him, “It’s late. Get some rest and then we can pick it back up in the morning.”

There’s a pause, then, “I’m gonna stay for another hour. Get some sleep. I’ll be done soon.”

“No, Touya. You’ve been at it for hours. You barely took a break for dinner. C’mon.” 

“You know, you sound awfully like a handler trying to tell their pilot what to do.” He teases, but you can hear the irritation in his voice.

“You are insufferable. I’m worried about you.” You groan.

“I’m fine. Go sleep.” He insists.

“If I find out you aren’t out of here in an hour—” Your line is promptly cut off, leaving behind static in your ear. You sigh and throw your com to the side. You hope he’s telling the truth.

With one last look at Blue, you make your way out of the training floor and find your way back to your dorm. 

Touya doesn’t answer the door when you knock the next morning. With a frustrated groan, you leave your dorm and head to the training floor, assuming he woke up early to get some extra hours in. The closer you get the the floor, you notice other members of the base rushing in front of you. Feeling panicked, you pick up the pace, jogging toward the training room to make sure something isn’t wrong. You collide with a body in front of you, nearly falling to the floor as you steady yourself. Toga stands in front of you, her cheeks red and eyes glossy as she explains something your mind can’t catch up to understand. The only thing you recognize is his name, and you’re running toward the training floor in an instant. 

You watch as Blue stomps around the area, her arms swinging in all directions, losing her footing as she moves. Knowing you can’t do anything on the floor, you make your way up to the overlook, finding Tenko yelling into your intercom. 

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” You ask him, pulling the headset off of his head and placing it on yours instead. 

“He’s out of fucking control. He won’t answer. I don’t even think he’s conscious in there.” He tells you, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots in anxiety. “You’re not linked yet, are you?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes in frustration as you try to think. You know it’s the only way. You have to take some of the burden off of him, make him share it with you. It’s the only way he’ll survive right now. “Do you think you can get into Decay right now and knock him down somehow?”

He hesitates, “I can get inside. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to touch him at all.”

“You have to.” You plead, desperately. “I just need him down for ten seconds, tops. As long as I can get inside of her, I can save him.”

He looks at you like you’re insane, and maybe you are. But you know you can’t live with yourself if you don’t try something. Tenko nods.

“I can do it.” He tells you. You rush passed him, following the stairs down to the training area. You feel Tenk grab your wrist firmly. “You bring him back, okay?”

“I will.” You nod. 

He dodges Blue’s movements, weaving between her legs as he finally makes it to Decay. It takes a few moments for him to connect, but he goes straight for Blue. You watch the giant machines fight one another, but it’s clear that Blue’s lack of control hinders much of her ability. She needs Touya just as much as he needs her. It’s tough for Decay to dodge her swinging arms, but Tenko manages to knock her down quickly.

The fall shakes the room, but you waste no time running for Blue. Climbing over the side of her, you manage to touch your thumb to the pad on the outside to open her chest up. She begins to stand up, and you slip down, grabbing onto a bar beneath her ribcage. You let out a frustrated groan as you try to pull yourself up over the edge of the cockpit. Finally making it over, you see Touya sitting there, still connected to his pilot’s chair, eyes glazed over and blood gushing from his nose. You push the button that closes the panel in Blue’s chest, and you’re suddenly alone with him. 

Touya’s body is being jerked around by the movement of the mech, and you hang onto the walls of her chest in order to make your way to him. You situate yourself in his lap, taking his head in your hands as you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“You fucking asshole! I told you to take a break.” You sob, resting your head against his as you try and think of what to do next. “Touya, please. Please, baby, I need to you come back. Just fucking come back so I don’t have to do this without your permission, please.”

With no response from him, you wipe your tears, coming to terms with the fact that you have to complete the soul link now, or he’ll die. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Touya. Please forgive me.”

The soul link isn’t exactly an action so much as it is a feeling, an experience. There’s no trigger for it, no way to make it happen. It just begins. 

It’s Touya, aged thirteen, wild, chubby-cheeked and happy, in the pilot’s seat of his father’s HERO. It’s his drive, his determination, his anger, his hurt. It’s the day he snuck into battle, the day he couldn’t get out, flesh burning and fusing to the metal walls of his mech, the feeling now deep in your skin. It’s you, aged fifteen, hopeful, alive, shaking hands with your first pilot. It’s your heart, much too big and much too open for your line of work, it’s your passion, your fire, every piece of you that was broken down again and again until there was nothing left. It’s Touya and it’s you, and every single bit of your souls now tied together in one big knot. 

There’s nothing but darkness. And then there’s screaming. And then you can hear everything. Every thought running through Touya’s brain right now echoes in your head as you slowly come back to yourself. He can hear the same of yours.

It’s overwhelming at first, to have two sets of thoughts in your head at the same time, but you manage to focus. You can feel an anger inside of you like you’ve never felt. It’s almost like it’s your own. You need to come back. You’ve lost control of Blue.

In an instant, you feel yourself come back to your body, now straddling Touya like before, you feel his arms shoot around you and he tucks his chin over your shoulder to pilot Blue like he’s used to doing. He pays no mind as he presses up against you, but you feel your heart rate increase at the closeness. 

He’s so close.

I have to be. You’re in my lap.

Shit. I didn’t think—

Clearly.

I can’t fucking believe you. I told you we weren’t going to do this.

You were dying!

Then you fucking let me!

You’re jostled around in his lap for a moment as he stops Blue from destroying any more of the training floor, and Touya wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady.

He gains control of her quickly, moving her toward the edge of the room. You tuck your face into his neck, not wanting to distract him and keeping your thoughts at bay so you don’t overwhelm him. He powers Blue down, severing the neural connection between the two of you, and shoves you from his lap and into the pilot’s chair like you’ve burned him. He storms out of the cockpit, climbing out of his machine and leaving you inside. You think about the argument you had within each other’s head, how Touya would have rather died than be linked to you like he is now. 

You slump against the seat, comforted by the metal cage you’ve been left inside of. 

[jezebelblues]

Hi can you do another dad!Harry x reader where Niall meets atlas and he and Harry teach him how to play football and Harry Niall playfully argue about what team atlas will root for. And Niall also wants to teach him how to play the guitar.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄’𝟐𝟐 ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

⋆˚✿˖° 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

summary: check the request u silly goose ^

also hello anon, thank u for the request <3 sorry it took so long! hopefully it’s smthn u liked :)

cw: dadrry 🤨, unedited

word count: approx 2.3k

| i’m trying to go in order with the requests ive gotten. a lot have been dadrry which i LOVVE however im gonna take the smallest breather from it because i’ve been wanting to get a few other things out that isn’t dadrry/kid related which i hope yall will still like :^)

masterlist

harry bent over and plucked a dandelion from the ground, its yellow petals nearly glowing in the gentle light. “here,” he murmured, tucking it behind atlas’s ear, nestled into dark curls that mirrored his own.

his boy squinted up at him, dimple deepening as he tilted his head, casting that same unguarded, easy smile. harry’s own grin met it, his eyes crinkling, his nose scrunching up just so. “sunny flower for my sunshine,” he said, voice a low, soft thing.

the world outside was painted in a wash of soft honeyed glow, every blade of grass dipped in a warm, dewy shimmer. somewhere overhead, the clouds stretched in lazy tufts, the kind that would drift by in no hurry, letting the sky peek through in swathes of baby blue.

they were tucked beneath the willow tree at the back of the yard, both of them shirtless, shoeless, and dusted with dirt. atlas sat cross-legged, his chubby fingers digging into the cool soil with the focus only a four-year-old could muster. he was on a mission, hunting for the little grey bugs he loved, the ones that rolled into perfect balls with the gentlest nudge.

“look, bub,” harry whispered, flipping over his hand to reveal one of the bugs crawling along his dirt-streaked palm. atlas’s face lit up, eyes wide and delighted. he gently took the bug, murmuring, “hello, potato,” as if the creature was an old friend. carefully, he coaxed it onto his own hand, watching it sprawl out its tiny legs, finally uncurling. “there y’are,” he said with a satisfied little sigh, his finger brushing gently over its shell before he let it crawl back into the soil.

harry watched him, struck by the quiet tenderness in his son’s movements, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and awe. atlas’s world was so simple, and yet somehow so vast, filled with magic in places adults so often overlooked.

his son’s head whipped around suddenly, catching sight of a patch of tiny purple flowers hiding near his dad’s knee. he scrambled over, tugging a few loose with careful fingers, his face lighting up like he’d found treasure. harry chuckled, watching his son’s single-minded determination as he came closer, leaning down to face his dad.

“shh,” he whispered, pressing a finger to his lips with the gravest expression he could muster. then, with a careful hand, he began tucking the little flowers into harry’s curls, his small brows furrowed in focus. one by one, purple petals nestled into the messy locks until he was satisfied. “now we match, daddy,” he said, the faintest look of triumph on his face.

harry couldn’t help the way his heart tugged, warmth spreading in his chest. “mama needs one, too,” atlas murmured, glancing around with a serious look.

“does she now?” he stood, brushing dirt from his knees, lifting atlas onto his hip with a grunt. his feet made soft imprints in the grass as they moved toward his wife, who lay stretched out on a towel near the front yard, soaking up the late afternoon sun. her eyes opened as they approached, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

“what kind of flower, do y’think?” harry mumbled, nudging atlas’s cheek with his nose.

atlas thought for a long moment, glancing between his parents. “m’the prettiest one.”

“now that’s a hard call, mate,” he chuckled. “your mum’s too pretty for just one flower, really. her beauty would outshine it.”

atlas didn’t quite understand, but he knew his dad was talking about how lovely his mama was, so he nodded, satisfied.

just then, the clink of a metal latch echoed from the house. niall appeared, hands on his hips, a football tucked under one arm, grinning as he made his way down the steps toward them. “ready for a bit o’ footie, then?” he called, his voice bright with that familiar lilting accent.

atlas perked up immediately, wriggling in harry’s hold. harry set him down, watching as he bolted across the lawn, little legs pumping as he met niall halfway.

“now, before we get started, little man,” niall began, crouching down to atlas’s level, “we need to sort somethin’ important.”

harry groaned, wandering over with a lazy grin. “oh, here we go. already brainwashing him, are ya?”

niall chuckled, tousling atlas’s hair. “only tryin’ to steer him right, yeah? see, atlas, your dad here likes the red team, manchester united.” he said it in a tone like he was explaining a tragic flaw. “but me? i’m derby county through and through. we’re the true underdogs.” he tapped atlas’s nose for emphasis.

atlas tilted his head, clearly confused. he looked up at his dad, brow furrowed. “the red team, daddy?”

harry laughed, ruffling atlas’s curls. “that’s right, mate. we’re united fans, us. always cheer for the red team.”

niall clutched his chest in mock horror. “ah, but atlas, don’t you want to support a real team, one with heart?”

atlas just blinked between them, completely lost but amused by their playful bickering. he didn’t quite get why it mattered, but he knew his dad loved the red team, so that’s what he’d cheer for, every time.

“alright, enough of that,” niall said with a wink, rolling the football out in front of him. “time for a proper match. let’s see what you’ve got, little man.”

“think y’can win, attie?” harry asked, grinning wide as he kicked the ball softly toward atlas, who stumbled back a step as the ball nudged his bare foot.

atlas giggled, a bubbling, bright sound that made both men laugh. he glanced down at the ball, brows furrowing like he was trying to solve a puzzle, then he looked up with a determined expression. “i can beat you,” he declared, puffing out his chest with all the seriousness a four-year-old could muster.

“oh, he’s got a bit of fire in him!” niall laughed, straightening up and adjusting the dandelion in the boy’s hair. “good lad. that’s what i like to see.”

harry crouched down to meet atlas’s eye level, his smile softening. “alright, bubba. let’s start with the basics, yeah?” he placed a hand gently on atlas’s shoulder, guiding him toward the ball. “all you’ve got to do is kick it nice and easy, right to uncle niall.”

atlas gave a determined nod, his little face scrunched in concentration. he took a step back, wriggled his toes in the grass, then swung his leg forward with a small grunt. the ball wobbled and rolled just a few feet, but it was enough to get a cheer from both men.

“that’s it!” niall called, clapping his hands together as he jogged forward to stop the ball with the inside of his foot. “perfect! now let’s try somethin’ a bit trickier, yeah?” he gave the ball a gentle nudge back toward atlas. “this time, try keepin’ it goin’. we’ll pass it back and forth.”

harry stayed beside him, his hand resting lightly on his son’s shoulder, offering small tips here and there as the ball rolled between them. atlas’s kicks were unsteady, more little taps than proper strikes, but each time he got the ball to move, his face lit up like he’d just scored a winning goal.

after a few minutes, harry stepped back, letting atlas and niall keep the rhythm on their own. he folded his arms, watching them play, the gentle back-and-forth, the easy flow of laughter. niall, ever patient, exaggerated his reactions to every kick, even the weak ones, stumbling back dramatically as if atlas had knocked him off balance. it sent atlas into fits of giggles, his small frame shaking with the force of it.

“look at that!” niall called, holding his arms wide in mock surrender after a particularly strong kick from atlas. “we’ve got ourselves a future champion here! sign ‘im up for derby now, i say!”

“oi, back off,” harry said, joining them again with a wide grin. he scooped atlas up, making the little boy squeal as he swung him around in a wide arc before setting him back down. “he’s stickin’ with united. right, attie?”

atlas just beamed up at them, not understanding but pleased to be the center of attention. “yeah!” he agreed, without really knowing what he was agreeing to. “the red team!”

“traitor,” niall muttered, though his eyes were bright with laughter.

“nah, he’s just smart,” harry teased, tapping the ball with his bare foot and sending it toward niall, who caught it with an easy stop. they moved seamlessly into a light game, the ball pinging between the three of them, atlas racing after every pass with a fierce determination.

niall leaned down, conspiratorially. “tell ya what, atlas,” he said, his tone lowering as if he were revealing a great secret. “if you can get the ball past your dad just once, i’ll let you wear my derby county jersey.”

harry raised a brow, feigning indignation. “oh, no you don’t. we’re not corrupting him with your bad taste in football, mate.”

but the boy’s eyes widened with the challenge, his cheeks pink and his grin growing mischievous. he turned, the tiniest flicker of determination lighting up his eyes as he faced his dad, who crouched down slightly, hands out in front like a goalie.

“you think you can get past me, bub?” harry said, a playful glint in his eyes.

atlas didn’t answer. instead, he lunged forward, feet slipping in the damp grass as he pushed the ball with both tiny feet, charging straight at his dad. harry bit back a laugh, shuffling to the left and blocking the ball gently with his foot. atlas let out a tiny growl of frustration, spinning around and kicking again, his effort all concentration and floppy limbs.

niall ran amuck from the sidelines, letting out hushed yells to mimic that of a roaring crowd. “go on, atlas! you’ve got ‘em! he’s not that quick, trust me!”

harry shot niall a mock glare but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up as atlas kept trying, little determined sounds huffing from him with every move. finally, with a wide grin, harry let himself stumble just a little too dramatically, the ball slipping past him as atlas charged forward.

“he’s done it!” niall whooped, jumping in the air and throwing his arms wide as if they’d just won the league. “you got him, attie! you scored!”

he froze for a second, blinking in surprise at the empty space in front of him where his dad had been. then he let out a triumphant yell, arms shooting up in the air. “i did it! i did it!”

harry caught him up in his arms, twirling him around until atlas’s laughter rang out, loud and joyful. “you did, mate,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of his son’s head. “you got me.”

niall jogged over, slinging an arm around harry’s shoulders and holding his other hand out for a high-five, which atlas delivered with a delighted smack. “a promise is a promise,” niall said, grinning wide. “you’ll be gettin’ that derby jersey from me. though, your dad might never forgive me for it.”

“we’ll talk about that later,” harry said, giving niall a playful shove. then he turned back to atlas, setting him down and ruffling his hair again. “but for now, let’s see if you can do it again. think you’ve got another goal in you?”

atlas’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he nodded, puffing out his chest. “i can do it! m’the best player ever!”

“that’s the spirit,” niall said, positioning himself across from them and rolling the ball back to atlas. “ready when you are, champ.”

the afternoon stretched on, niall disappearing inside for a bit before reappearing at the back door, this time not with a ball, but with his battered acoustic guitar slung over one shoulder. the old wood caught the golden light just right, warm honey glinting off the curves. “thought we’d change things up a bit,” he called out, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. he settled onto the cool grass under the shade of the willow tree, cradling the guitar in his lap.

“oh, you’re quittin’ already?” harry teased, giving the football a gentle tap with his toe toward yn, who was standing barefoot a few steps away, her hair a soft tangle in the breeze. atlas stood between them, his little legs bouncing as he tried to mimic the back-and-forth passes between his parents.

“nah,” niall replied, the strings thrumming under his fingers as he absentmindedly strummed a chord, “just thought atlas could use a break from whoopin’ your arse.”

the little one giggled, spinning around in circles as harry pretended to stumble back dramatically. yn gave the ball a light kick back to her husband, the sunlight catching the bright colors of her sundress, and harry caught it with a playful flourish. the three of them formed a small, easy triangle in the yard, the ball moving lazily between them as niall started picking out a familiar melody.

“come here, little rockstar,” niall said, patting his knee and looking over at atlas with a soft smile. “fancy learnin’ a tune?” atlas hesitated, glancing up at his dad, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“go on, attie,” harry urged, scooping the ball into his hands to pause the game. “uncle niall’s got a song for ya.”

atlas’s eyes widened, curiosity shining bright as he trotted over, plopping himself down in niall’s lap with a trusting little wiggle. the guitar was far too big for him, the wooden body swallowing his small frame as niall adjusted the position, balancing the neck across atlas’s knees.

“alright, kiddo,” niall said, his voice low and patient as he wrapped atlas’s small hands around the neck of the guitar, guiding his tiny fingers to press down on the strings. “these are called chords, yeah? they make the music. we’re gonna try somethin’ special.”

yn and harry settled down in the grass just in front of them, harry’s arm slipping around her waist as they leaned back on their elbows, watching the scene unfold with soft smiles. atlas’s little fingers fumbled against the strings, pressing too hard and too light in the same awkward movements, but niall was endlessly patient, his hands covering the boy’s, guiding him with an easy confidence.

“this one’s called a ‘g chord,’” niall explained, carefully placing atlas’s index finger on the right fret, his own fingers moving over atlas’s to show him the way. “we’re gonna play a bit of my song, yeah?”

atlas nodded solemnly, like he understood, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in deep concentration. he strummed the strings with a jerky motion, producing a sound that was more discordant twang than melody. niall chuckled softly, adjusting atlas’s grip with a patient hand. “easy there, mate. it’s all about bein’ gentle, like you were with those potato bugs earlier.”

“like this?” he asked, his face scrunched in determined focus as he tried again, fingers splayed awkwardly over the frets. he plucked at the strings with all the finesse of a four-year-old, the sound shaky and uneven, but undeniably proud.

“that’s it!” niall encouraged, his voice warm and easy. “you’re doin’ perfect, bud. let’s try a bit more, yeah?” he hummed the opening bars of the song under his breath, guiding atlas through each shaky strum, the boy’s small fingers following his lead with a mixture of curiosity and pure, bright determination.

harry’s hand squeezed yn’s gently, his gaze soft as he watched his son try so earnestly. “he’s really into it, isn’t he?” yn murmured, resting her head on harry’s shoulder.

“yeah,” harry replied, his voice low, almost reverent. “reminds me of myself.”

atlas’s fingers slipped off the strings, causing a strange, discordant twang, but niall just laughed and nudged him gently. “no worries, champ. it takes a while to get it right. even i messed up plenty when i was young—ask your dad, he’ll tell ya.”

“he’s tellin’ the truth,” harry interjected with a grin, leaning back on one hand while still holding yn close. “used to be a nightmare. couldn’t get through a song without stoppin’ every few seconds.”

niall pretended to look wounded, pressing a hand dramatically to his heart. “oi, easy, now! this is a teachin’ moment, not a roast!” atlas giggled at the banter, his chubby hands clinging tighter to the guitar.

“let’s try again,”he suggested softly, tapping atlas’s little hand in encouragement. “i’ll help you with the chords, and you just strum when i say, alright?”

the curly haired boy nodded, his eyes wide and focused, and together they moved slowly, atlas’s fingers guided with care over the strings as niall led him through the simplest, gentlest notes of his song. it was more noise than song, a jumbled mix of too-loud and too-soft strums, but there was a rhythm to it, a quiet kind of magic in the way atlas’s brow furrowed with every sound he managed to coax from the instrument.

they played like that for a while, atlas’s small body wrapped in the circle of niall’s arms, the guitar humming under their hands, filling the late afternoon air with its uneven melody. the sun dipped lower, casting long, soft shadows across the grass, the golden light wrapping them all in its warm, fading glow.

when they finally finished, atlas let out a triumphant sigh, dropping his hands from the strings and leaning back into niall’s chest. “i did it,” he said with a breathless sort of wonder.

“that you did, little man,” niall replied, resting his chin lightly on top of atlas’s head, the smile in his voice clear as day. “you played your first song.”

harry clapped softly, his eyes shining with something tender as yn leaned against him, her arm around his waist. “we’ve got ourselves a musician,” he said quietly, his voice caught somewhere between pride and awe.

atlas beamed, his cheeks pink from the effort, his eyes bright with a happiness so pure and unfiltered that it tugged at everyone’s heart. “i wanna play another one,” he declared, turning to look up at niall with wide, eager eyes.

niall laughed, ruffling atlas’s messy curls. “we’ll make a rockstar outta you yet, mate. but maybe we’ll leave the heavy stuff for another day, yeah? for now, you did brilliant.”

they all sat there for a moment longer, the last traces of sunlight casting everything in a honeyed glow, the guitar cradled in atlas’s lap, his small hands still resting on the strings as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. the world felt quieter somehow, the soft hum of the summer evening settling around them, and for a brief, perfect moment, everything was exactly as it should be.

[novaursa]

Unseen Fires (embers)

- Summary: He loved you as long he knew how. And you never noticed it.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: the price

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The sun shone bright on the training yard of the Red Keep, its rays glinting off the polished swords and steel armor of the knights that trained there. Aemond watched them from a distance, but his focus wasn’t on the clashing of swords or the stern commands of the masters-at-arms. It was on you.

You, with your radiant smile and laughter, the sound of it carried on the wind. You stood by the edge of the training yard, applauding as Ser Harwin Strong demonstrated a move with his blade. The knight grinned at you, offering a playful wink, and your laughter rang out even louder. It was as if the sun shone brighter around you, the warmth of your presence radiating outward.

Aemond’s chest tightened, a pang of something sharp and bitter twisting inside him. He was barely ten years old, but the feeling was new and unwelcome—like a knife hidden beneath layers of velvet. It wasn’t just the jealousy, though that burned fiercely enough. It was the realization that he wanted something from you that he could not yet name.

He clenched his small fists, nails digging into the palms until they hurt. He wanted to stride over and draw your attention away from Ser Harwin, to remind you that he was your brother, that he was the one who knew you best. But even then, he knew it would be foolish. He was too small, too young, too insignificant next to the brawny knight who seemed to have captured your attention so effortlessly.

And so, he watched in silence, biting back the hurt that swelled within him, swallowing it down like bitter medicine. He told himself it didn’t matter, that he would grow stronger, better. Perhaps then you’d look at him the way you looked at others.

Years passed, and Aemond grew taller, stronger, but that familiar ache in his chest only deepened. He began training relentlessly, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, desperate to become worthy of your notice. He studied histories and swordsmanship with equal fervor, each swing of his blade fueled by the thought that one day, you might look at him and see something more than a brother.

But it always came back to the same thing.

You were always kind to him, always patient, but your gaze was filled with the warmth of a sister, the gentle affection of family. You ruffled his hair when he spoke of his lessons, laughed softly when he tried to show off with his knowledge of dragonlore. And though your smiles were precious to him, they weren’t the ones he yearned for.

One summer afternoon, when the gardens of the Red Keep were lush and green, Viserys had thrown a feast for the visiting lords of the realm. You moved through the gathering with a grace that left everyone in awe, your laughter like music drifting through the air. Aemond watched as a young lord—a son of the Riverlands—leaned close to whisper in your ear. You blushed at his words, and Aemond’s gut twisted sharply.

His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white as he tried to focus on the wine in his cup instead of the sight of you with that boy. He felt like an outsider in his own home, watching as you exchanged pleasantries, smiling with that shy look he had never seen before. The jealousy churned inside him, turning his thoughts dark. Why did you smile like that for him? Why did you lean in closer when he whispered something that made you laugh softly, your cheeks flushed?

Aemond had been prepared to endure the torment, as he always did, but when the boy touched your arm, guiding you closer toward the lantern-lit alcoves of the garden, he couldn’t bear it any longer. He abandoned his cup, moving swiftly through the throng of lords and ladies, reaching you just as the young lord’s hand lingered on yours.

“Sister,” Aemond interrupted, his voice tighter than he intended. “Father asked for you.”

You blinked, glancing up at Aemond in surprise. There was a question in your eyes, but you nodded, slipping your hand away from the young lord’s grasp. Aemond relished the brief flicker of disappointment in the other boy’s eyes, but he hated the confusion in yours even more. As he led you away, he could feel the weight of your gaze on him.

“Aemond, Father did not ask for me,” you pointed out, amusement lacing your voice as you glanced back toward the gardens. “What was that about?”

He had no words, no excuse that could explain the fierce possessiveness that had driven him to interrupt. He simply shrugged, his expression carefully blank, trying to mask the turmoil inside him. You only laughed, shaking your head, as if it were another one of his childish quirks. As if you couldn’t possibly see the truth beneath the surface.

He had thought it would get easier with time. That maybe the feelings would fade as he grew older, as you drifted further into your role as a noble daughter of House Targaryen. But it only grew worse, more painful, as you continued to shine brighter in the court, drawing attention from every corner of the realm.

Aemond stood beside you in council meetings, listening to the lords and knights praise your grace, your wit, your beauty. He watched them bow over your hand, their eyes lingering a moment too long, their words too soft. And each time, the bitter jealousy in his chest flared hotter, like dragonfire burning through his veins.

He hated it. Hated the way he felt so small, so powerless to change your view of him. Hated that every smile you offered to another man felt like a knife twisting deeper into his heart. But more than anything, he hated himself for wishing for something that he could never have.

It was during one of these moments—when you were dancing with a handsome young lord at a feast in the Great Hall—that Aegon, always perceptive in his own twisted way, sidled up beside Aemond, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re like a moth, brother,” Aegon drawled, taking a long sip of wine. “Always circling her flame, hoping not to get burned.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He couldn’t, not with the truth so dangerously close to the surface. Aegon laughed, the sound harsh in Aemond’s ears.

“She’ll never see it, you know,” Aegon continued, leaning in closer, his voice a mocking whisper. “She’ll always think of you as her little brother. How does it feel, hm?”

Aemond forced himself to swallow the bitterness, the anger that simmered just beneath his skin. He turned away, focusing on the distant music, on the way you laughed with your dance partner. He couldn’t let Aegon see how deep the words cut, how much truth they held. Instead, he clung to the hope that one day, things might be different.

But deep down, a part of him knew that Aegon was right.

The realization came to him fully on a night when you were ill, confined to your chambers with a fever that kept you in bed for days. Aemond had barely left your side, reading to you, bringing you water, anything he could think of to ease your discomfort. And in those quiet, shadowed hours, he had watched you sleep, watched the gentle rise and fall of your breath, and felt a longing so deep it nearly broke him.

He loved you. Fiercely, desperately, with a need that consumed him. But he also knew that it would never be enough. That you would never see him the way he saw you, would never understand the depth of his feelings. He was your brother, nothing more.

And as he sat there in the darkness of your chamber, listening to the distant echoes of the Red Keep, Aemond let the ache settle in his chest like an old wound. He would endure it, just as he always had. He would continue to fight for your attention, for your approval, even if it meant living with the knowledge that you could never truly be his.

But in the depths of his heart, a flicker of hope remained—a hope that perhaps, one day, you might see him. And until then, he would carry the weight of his love in silence, hiding it beneath the mask he wore for the world.

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff | Genshin x GN!Reader What Made Them Fall For You?

Xiao, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Diluc

SUMMARY Headcanons on what makes the genshin pookies fall for you <3

CONTENT Fluff, gender neutral reader, men falling for reader, reader is not traveler but is friends with them, mentions of character's trauma, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES I hope to eventually write about all the men >:) it will probably take a while to get to it but I’ll try to keep each one short to encourage myself to finish them all hehe.

XIAO

I think Xiao would start to fall for you because you see through his tough, mean guy act. You can tell that even though his words are harsh and he’s telling you to leave him alone, he’s just protecting you. You might not see it at first, but as you understand his condition, his karmic debt, you understand him. Your realization makes you feel warm knowing that Xiao is really just an innocent soul who wanted to keep you safe. He wants so badly to never hurt anyone ever again and “repent” in solitude even though he has nothing to really repent for; he was forced to kill by his previous master and his karmic debt only comes from killing the remnants of old gods and absorbing their debt.

You start to hang around him more as a result and, much to Xiao’s dismay, he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he actually enjoys how you reignite the warmth in him, the warmth he hasn’t felt in so long since his fellow Yaksha have passed. But did he want to let you in? Shouldn’t he push you away? He’s been alone for so long, why change that now? He felt like he didn’t deserve to enjoy company again, that he didn’t deserve you and your kindness. But maybe just this time… just once, would he allow it.

WANDERER

I think Wanderer would start to fall for you because you make him feel human emotions like he’s never felt before. He’s always searched for a “heart” in the form of a gnosis, thinking it would make him human and make him feel loved and wanted. But even when he had it, it didn’t feel right. Even now, with his anemo vision, he feels more, but still not what he wants. But with you, it feels perfect. Others would probably describe what he feels as something like “butterflies in my stomach” but since he probably doesn’t really experience physical things like that, being a magical puppet and all, he thinks about how you make his vision glow. When he feels a surge of emotions, it feels like he’s using his vision. It feels powerful, happy, strong, and warm, like how a light breeze feels on a sunny afternoon.

You know about his past, what he did, and how the world wronged him. He’s been so traumatized and can barely comprehend his emotions. So when you reach out to him after he regains his memory and a new anemo vision, you try to help him through his emotions in the gentle way that you do. You’re so soft with him and it makes his vision heart ache. He believes he doesn’t deserve you but you try your best to show him otherwise. As you two get closer, you never really notice, but the wind always picks up just a little bit when he sees you.

DILUC

I think Diluc would start to fall for you because you don’t just see him as “the young and rich son of the Ragnvindr family estate.” You see him for him: Diluc. You see a beautiful soul with a broken heart that has put up walls that he intends to never break down again. Others might think that Diluc is just cold, but you and the others close to him know that no matter how cold he may seem, the pure fire that burns inside him always spreads its warmth to those around him. He’s believed for a while now that barely anyone can see what he’s hiding underneath, that people want him for his money, his property, his material things. But you prove him wrong time and time again. You sweetly say hi to him every time you see him not because you want to put on a facade to get on his good side. You don’t help him break up a fight at the tavern and clean up after because you want a monetary reward. You don’t bake him an adorable strawberry cake for his birthday because you want something back. No, you do it because you care, because you have so much love to give, and Diluc feels so lucky to be a part of your life.

He feels his feelings grow for you as time goes on. He feels you getting closer and he barely hesitates to let you in. You didn’t break down his walls, you politely made a door for yourself to enter and it makes you both laugh to think about it that way. He stays reserved around most others but always holds the door open for you, physically and metaphorically.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Father’s Embrace

word count: 733

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Wife!reader, ft. Jack

Summary: A peaceful day on the yacht brings Toto, Y/n, and their son Jack closer, as they share a heartfelt moment wrapped in the serenity of the ocean and the warmth of family love.

______________________________________________________________

The sun hung lazily in the sky, its warm golden rays spilling across the ocean's surface, casting glimmers that danced on the calm water. The gentle hum of the yacht's engine was soothing, a low murmur that blended seamlessly with the distant calls of seabirds. The air was filled with a quiet peace, the kind only found far from the bustle of their daily lives.

Toto sat with a soft smile playing on his lips, his arms wrapped protectively around their son, Jack, who had curled up into his chest, lulled by the rhythmic sway of the boat. His normally energetic little boy had been worn out by the sun and the excitement of the day. Jack's head rested against Toto’s chest, his small arms clutching his father, who wore his favorite white sweater. Toto’s sunglasses reflected the serene blue of the sea as he glanced out across the horizon, then down at Jack, his expression softening even more.

You leaned against the railing of the yacht, watching the two of them with a fond smile, the sight melting your heart. It wasn’t often that you saw Toto so still, so utterly at peace. He was always moving, always thinking, whether at the track or managing the pressures of his team. But here, in the quiet embrace of the ocean, with Jack asleep in his arms, he seemed to breathe a little easier.

“Mommy,” Jack had mumbled earlier before drifting off, his little body cocooned in warmth. You had smiled and kissed his head, the soft curls tickling your lips. Toto had reached out then, gently pulling you closer into their cocoon of warmth.

Now, as the yacht drifted along the coastline, you moved closer and sat beside them, your hand finding Toto’s. He squeezed it gently, a silent acknowledgment of the peace between you all. No words were needed—this moment spoke volumes. It was the kind of quiet joy that came from simply being together.

Toto turned slightly to meet your gaze, the sunlight catching his eyes behind his reflective glasses. “He’s out like a light,” he whispered with a grin, careful not to wake Jack. His other hand stroked Jack’s hair absentmindedly, the gesture so full of love and tenderness that it made your heart swell.

“He had a big day,” you replied softly, your thumb running over the back of Toto’s hand. “Couldn’t wait to follow you around the boat earlier.”

Toto chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. “He’s always got so much energy, just like his mother.”

You laughed quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He’s got your determination, though. He doesn’t give up until he gets what he wants.”

Toto smiled, a glint of pride in his eyes. “That’s true,” he murmured. “But right now, all he needs is to rest.”

The wind picked up slightly, causing the edges of the water to ripple. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, and Toto shifted, drawing you in closer without disturbing Jack.

“We should do this more often,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “Just us. No races, no meetings. Just our family.”

You nodded, your heart warmed by the sincerity in his words. “I’d like that.”

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the only sounds around you the gentle lap of the waves against the yacht and the occasional soft breath from Jack. The world felt far away here, like nothing could reach you.

As the sun dipped lower toward the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you looked up at Toto, the man who held your heart just as securely as he held your son. He caught your gaze and smiled that soft smile reserved only for moments like this, where it was just the three of you, wrapped in a cocoon of love and tranquility.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind.

“For what?” he asked, brow slightly furrowed.

“For being you. For always being here.”

Toto’s grip on your hand tightened, and he brought it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll always be here, love. For you, for Jack. Always.”

The yacht continued its gentle journey across the water, carrying with it the quiet promise of more days like this, filled with love, laughter, and the warmth of family.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Awaiting Miracles ~ BC [MATURE WARNING]

WORD COUNT: 1.5K

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

GENRE: after babysitting the couple want a baby, cute, established relationships, SMUT MINORS DNI, unprotected sex, Needy chan, Breeding kink, pregnacy tropes

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

As midnight draped its comforting veil over the world, you and Chan found yourselves in the peaceful embrace of your cosy living room. Lily, Felix's precious baby, nestled in your arms, her soft coos breaking the silence like delicate melodies. It had been a long day of trying to get into the swing of looking after a baby but you and Chan had gotten into the swing of it and you thought you were nailing it now.

Maybe it helped that Felix and Lyla had left you step-by-step instructions on everything that you needed to do with his daughter and you understood why. It was the first time he would be leaving his daughter and he was nervous about it - as any new parents would be.

"Sleeping angel," You whispered, running your finger over Lily's cheeks and smiling to yourself getting lost in your own thoughts. 

Before, you hadn't really thought of yourself as a family kind of person but as you sat here with Chan you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if it was your daughter - or son - that you were holding. 

Chan stole a glance at you, his heart swelling with an emotion that felt too big for his chest. For a while, he'd been wanting to talk to you about having kids of your own and this was giving him the final push to do so. 

"You're incredible with her, you know," he murmured, a smile playing on his lips as you slowly walked over to the travel cot and laid her down, smiling at her before you looked up, your eyes glowing with warmth. 

"It's easy when she's this adorable," You replied, gently rocking the travel cot back and forth. Chan chuckled softly, moving closer to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind, leaving a gentle kiss on your shoulder as you felt your body heating up. 

"I think it's more than that," he said, his voice laced with admiration. "You have this... way about you. You make it seem effortless." If your body wasn't hot before it was practically burning fire now from the comment and you ducked your head a little.

"I just love babies," you admitted, a shy smile tugging at your lips. Chan reached out, tracing the curve of your cheek with his fingertips.

"And I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Your gaze met his, your eyes shimmering with unspoken emotion, it was obvious that the two of you were thinking the same thing about having one of your own. 

"I love you too," you replied, your voice barely a whisper. Chan smirked to himself as he ran his hand over your lower back, just enjoying being close to you like this. 

The next night the two of you were cuddled in bed, your head laying on Chan's shoulder when you noticed he was acting a little weird and had been ever since the two of you had been alone. He was touching you more and whimpering whenever you would kiss his chest or shoulder, the two places that turned him on. 

"Channie," You whisper, running your fingers over his chest and smirking to yourself. All of this had started after Lily had gone back home and you knew what it meant, you knew he wanted a child just as much as you did.

"Yeah?" He quizzed, his cheeks blushing deeply, you looked up at him before kissing him softly, moving to sit on his lap. You whimper a little grinding down against his already hard dick, you knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him. 

"Yn..." Chan breathed out, he'd been needy all day and he knew you could feel how hard he was under his shorts, how badly he wanted you. Your lips smirked against his as you grind down on him, earning a moan from him as his hands tightened around your waist. 

Your kiss grew more passionate, your hands roaming over his naked chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips and you ran your hand over his abs, making him blush deeper. Small moans came from him as you continued to rock your hips against him, 

"I want you to cum inside of me," You whisper in his ear, biting down on his ear as his hips jerk upward a little, his eyes widening.

"W...What?" He groans, his eyes rolling back a little as you continue to roll your hips against him,

"I need you to fill me up Channie. I need you to get me pregnant." You whimper, your voice is seductive as you slow your hips down against his, his hands clutching onto you tightly as he wordlessly nods his head, struggling to find the words to continue. 

"I need you now," You told him as you stripped your shirt from over your head, Chan's hands instantly went to your breasts pulling on them before he wrapped his mouth around one, sucking softly. Your head rolls back softly, only Chan could make you this needy for him with something as simple as sucking your breasts, he was the only person you got sensitive for. 

"Chan," You moan out, rolling your hips down. You wanted him badly, you didn't want to be teased you just needed him inside of you right away. 

The two of you quickly undressed until you were naked, you carefully made your way back onto his lap and lined his cock up with your entrance, smirking as you saw just how brightly he was blushing.

"Please...P...Please Yn, I need you, I need this," He begged desperately as you slowly sunk down onto him, inch by torturous inch, your moans growing louder as you sunk all the way down onto him. 

"Fuck," You whimper, your head resting on Chan's as he held you, licking his lip slowly as he resisted the urge to cum right there and then.

"I need your cum, Channie. Need it so bad," You whimper to him, rocking slowly back and forth on him as he screwed his eyes shut. 

"S-Shit baby...P-Please, I- I can't last long if you keep saying things like that," He moans, you smirk at him a little. You didn't care how long he lasted, you enjoyed that he was this needy for you, and it somehow got you off on that fact.

 You didn't give him what he wanted though as you started to bounce up and down on his cock, your moans growing louder as Chan rolled his head back against the headboard, his teeth sinking down into his teeth as he whimpered a little. 

"Need you to breed me, Channie. Please, I wanna be so full." That was the straw that broke the camel's back as Chan couldn't stop himself: as soon as he heard the words come from you he was done for. You continued to ride him, moaning his name out as you reached down to rub your clit. The rush of euphoria was too strong for you to ignore any longer as you came, clenching around him tightly causing his hips to buck, pushing into you even deeper as his cock twitched and he groaned. 

"F-Fuck," He breathes out, his chest rising and falling so fast as you laid down against him, whimpering as you stayed perfectly still on him. 

"If it doesn't work at least we'll have fun practising," You giggled at him, making his cheeks flame. 

As the moments stretched into eternity, you and Chan found yourselves huddled together in the bathroom, your hearts pounding with anticipation. It had been a few months of trying to get pregnant and this was yet another test you were taking together. It didn't matter how many you took the wait always seemed to be longer than normal. You clutched the pregnancy test tightly in your trembling hands, your breath caught in your throat as you waited.

Chan wrapped his arms around you, his touch a reassuring anchor in the sea of uncertainty. Ever since you'd started trying he had been there with every test, bringing you new ones, different brands, whatever you needed he was there.

"Whatever happens, we're in this together," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the tense silence. "We'll keep trying, no matter what."

You nodded, your eyes brimming with tears of hope and fear, you didn't want it to be negative, you liked practising with Chan but you wanted your family to start. 

"I know," you whispered, your voice trembling a little as you tried to think of what you could say. You'd been wondering if it was your fault you weren't pregnant yet. Maybe there was something wrong with you. 

"But what if..." Before you could finish your sentence, your gaze fell upon the small plastic stick in your hand, and your heart skipped a beat. With trembling hands, you turned it over, your breath catching in your throat as you read the unmistakable words:

Pregnant.

Tears of joy streamed down your cheeks as you looked up at Chan, your heart overflowing with love. 

"Channie," you whispered, your voice filled with wonder, "it's positive." Chan's eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the joyful news, his heart swelling with a mixture of elation and disbelief. 

"Really?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with joy. "We're going to be parents?" You nodded, your face radiant with happiness. 

"Yes," you replied, your voice trembling with excitement as you stared up at him. "We're going to have a baby."

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