#leaping and skipping for joy

[s4ndg3m]

Doodled ur sona :3

YOU WAAAAOAOAUAUUUHUUOUUWUUWHUUUUUWAOUAOUOUOUWUOHOUWHUOHOHOWUWAHWAAWUAOHOHHUWHUAOHH AAAA EEEEEEEE EE E E E EEEEEEEEE pupils expand very huge UUWAAAWAUUUAAAUWUWAAAAAAAAAUUUAUAUUAUAUUAUUAUUAUAUUAUAUAUAAUUAAUUAAUA

[6okuto]

EVERBTOXDYSTO0 MOVING.

[springtyme]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 ♡

afab/mom!reader x Price, König, Ghost, Gaz, & Soap

tags/warnings: Some angst but mostly fluff, (like, so much fluff!) Pregnancy, mention of birth. Makes more sense if you read part one first, but can easily be read as a stand alone.

word count: 6.3k

Part two of Confessing They Want A Baby

Price ♡

As you stand at the airport gate, holding your little boy in your arms, anticipation and nervousness consume you. This is a day you have looked forward to for a long time—the moment John returns home from deployment. It’s been a long and challenging journey for both of you, especially since John had to leave shortly after you gave birth to your son.

The airport is bustling with people, each lost in their own world of arrivals and departures. You scan the crowd, searching for any sign of John’s familiar face. Your heart skips a beat each time you see a man in uniform, but it’s never him. Doubt begins to creep in, but you quickly push it aside, reminding yourself that he’ll be here soon.

Your little boy squirms in your arms, sensing your restlessness. You adjust his blanket, feeling the warmth of his tiny body against yours. His innocent eyes meet yours, and you smile, finding solace in his presence. He is a constant reminder of the love and strength that binds your little family together.

Just as you’re about to give in to panic, you spot a group of uniformed soldiers making their way towards the gate. Your heart leaps with joy, recognising the SAS emblem on their sleeves. Among them, you catch a glimpse of John’s familiar face, his eyes scanning the crowd. 

“John!” you call out, your voice filled with relief and excitement.

He turns towards you, a wide smile breaking across his face. “Darling!” he exclaims, his voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and joy.

As he finally reaches you, you see the weariness in his eyes. “I missed you so much,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes as your husband’s strong arms embrace you and your little boy.

“I missed you and our little guy too,” he replies, his voice filled with emotion. 

You hold each other tightly, cherishing this long-awaited reunion. At this moment, time stands still as the chaos of the airport fades away. It’s just the three of you, together again, united by love and an unbreakable bond.

“I can’t believe you’re finally home,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

John pulls you even closer, his arms wrapped tightly around you and your son. “I can’t believe it either,” he  murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of relief and disbelief. “But I promised you, didn’t I? I promised I would come back.”

You nod against his chest, the tears flowing freely now. It has been a challenging six months for both of you - the sleepless nights, the endless worry, and the long distance that separated your family. But through it all, you held on to hope, to the love that strengthened your bond. You hands your little boy over to his father, letting him hold him for the first time since he was a newborn 

As John cradles your son in his strong arms, you watch their interaction with a mixture of awe and tenderness. It’s a sight you’ve longed to witness, the connection between father and son. You can see the love and adoration in John’s eyes as he gazes down at your baby boy, his fingers gently tracing the contours of his tiny face.

The fatigue from his journey is evident, but it doesn’t dampen his spirits. John’s smile remains unwavering as he looks up at you, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for taking care of our little man while I was away,” he says, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve done an amazing job, love.”

Tears stream down your face as you watch the two most important people in your life bond in this precious moment. You can’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming joy and relief. The weight of the past months slowly lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and happiness.

“He is so wonderful, John,” you say, your voice filled with awe. “He’s grown so much since you last saw him.”

John’s eyes well up with tears as he continues to hold your son. “He has, I can’t believe how much I’ve missed,” he admits, his voice choked with emotion. “But I promise, I’ll make up for lost time.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words. “We are just happy to have you back again,” you assure him. 

John looks at you, his eyes filled with determination. “I’m not going away again, love, I’m retiring from fieldwork, I should have done that a long time ago, should have done that when we married,” he says, his voice filled with determination and relief. “I want to be here with you and our boy, to build a life together that we’ve always dreamed of.” 

Tears of joy fill your eyes as you embrace this news. The thought of having John by your side, no longer having to endure the hardships and uncertainties of deployment, fills your heart with an indescribable sense of happiness and peace.

“I couldn’t be happier to hear that,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “God, John, I’ve missed you so much.”

John smiles, as he transfers your son back into your arms, a soft and tender smile that shows how much he longed for this moment as well. His strong, protective arms sneaking around you and your boy, holding you both close. “I’ve missed you both more than words can express,” he whispers, his voice filled with love.

As you leave the airport, the weight of the past months begins to lift. With your baby boy in your arms and John by your side, you walk towards a new chapter, grateful for the strength and resilience that has brought you here.

König ♡

You let out a tired groan as you stare into the fridge. It’s 2:43 at night and you can’t sleep. You’re feeling hot and uncomfortable, and now you’re also hungry. 

You’re so done with being pregnant, having to waddle around like a penguin, your feet and back always hurting, your ankles constantly swollen, and not being able to see your own feet anymore. The weight gain feels like a burden you can’t escape, and you yearn for the days when you could move freely and comfortably and you still have two months left of this, despite looking like you could pop any minute. 

You’re pretty sure you’re already the same size as your colleague was at full term, but you also have two in there, and it doesn’t really help either that the father of your babies is a bloody mountain of a man. 

You’re always tired, and if you’re not tired then you’re hungry. König is taking good care of you though, making sure you have everything you need and indulging your cravings whenever possible. He’s been incredibly supportive throughout the pregnancy, always reminding you how beautiful you are and assuring you that he loves every inch of you, baby bump included. 

But none of that is really able to comfort you at this moment. You are so looking forward to finally meeting your little ones, and having all this pregnancy stuff be over with, but having to go through this for two more months seems like an eternity. You are so tired and you hate that you don’t feel like yourself. Your hormones are all over the place and you find yourself constantly on edge. The smallest things can set off a wave of emotions, leaving you in tears one moment and irritated the next. It’s frustrating, knowing that you can’t control these sudden shifts in mood, and you can’t help but feel like a stranger in your own body. 

There is nothing in the fridge that seems appetising to you, despite it being well stocked, and you feel how  tears are beginning to well up in your eyes. The overwhelming mix of exhaustion, discomfort, and hunger is getting the best of you. You’re just about to let out a measly sob but instead you let out a surprised shriek as a pair of big, strong arms sneak around your body. The shriek turns into a relieved sigh as Königs big palms settle at the underside of your belly, gently lifting up your heavy bump. You instantly feel the relief in your sore back.   

König’s deep voice whispers soothingly in your ear. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed. Are you okay?” 

You lean back into König’s embrace, grateful for his strong presence, both physically and emotionally. “I just couldn’t sleep,” you mutter, trying to mask the maelstrom of feelings you’re having, but failing, your voice shaking with emotion. 

“You could have woken me,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You can feel his warmth behind you, his calming presence bringing a sense of comfort to your tired body.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “You need rest too.”

König’s hands continue to support your belly, his touch gentle yet firm. “Schatz, you are carrying our children,” he reminds you, his voice full of love and adoration. “Your well-being is my top priority.”

Tears blur your vision as his words wash over you, and you find yourself choked up with gratitude for this man who has been your rock throughout this pregnancy. He’s gone above and beyond to make sure you feel loved and cared for, even when the weight of it all feels overwhelming.

With a small sigh, you turn your body around to face him, resting your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against your cheek. He holds you tighter, but still being careful of your bump as he leans down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I’m just so tired,” you admit, your voice trembling with exhaustion. “I feel so exhausted and uncomfortable all the time. I miss feeling like myself, and I’m tired of being so emotional. I just want this pregnancy to be over.”

König rubs circles on your back, his touch providing a soothing rhythm. “I understand,” he murmurs, his words filled with empathy. “But remember, meine Liebe, you’re growing two beautiful lives within you. Your strength is immeasurable. And when they are finally here, all of this will be worth it.” 

“Yeah, it will,” you agree. Despite all the tears, sleepless nights and sore muscles, it really is going to be worth it in the end. You take a deep breath, trying to gather yourself. “I just... I don’t feel like myself anymore,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly. “Everything feels so different. I know it’s for a good cause, but still…”

König’s arms tighten around you, providing a sense of security. “I know it’s been tough for you,” he says softly, his voice filled with understanding. “But please remember that you can always talk to me.”

He wipes away a stray tear from your cheek and leans down to place another gentle kiss on your forehead. “I may not fully understand what you’re going through, but I will always be here to listen and support you,” he assures, his voice filled with love and reassurance.  

You are just about to answer him when you’re cut off by the beeps of the open fridge behind you. König releases his hold on you to push the fridge door close but his arms find you again as soon as the door shuts. 

“We don’t have any food, by the way,” you murmur into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

König chuckles softly, his deep voice rumbling against your cheek. “I don’t know if that’s really true, Schatz.” 

“Well, we don’t have the right food,” you retort, letting out a small sigh. König’s arms tighten around you, bringing you closer to him. 

“Would ice cream be the right kind of food right now?”

“It would, but we don’t have any,” you sigh, nuzzling yourself into his broad chest. 

“Yes, we do,” he hums. “I bought some more yesterday.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise as you look up at him, a mixture of disbelief and delight washing over you. “Really?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your voice. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “I knew you’d crave it sooner or later, so I stocked up.” You can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness as König releases you from his embrace and walks over to the freezer, rummaging around before emerging with a tub of your favourite ice cream flavour.

He returns to you, a triumphant smile on his face, and hands you the tub of ice cream along with a spoon. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. 

“Thank you, König,” you say sincerely, taking the tub of ice cream from him. “You always know how to make things better.”

He smiles warmly, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “It’s the least I can do, my love,” he replies, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your temple. “Seeing you happy and comforted is all I want.”

You waddle into the living room and settle back into the sofa, snuggled close into König’s side, and as you take your first bite of ice cream, snuggled up against the giant man beside you, you can feel the stress and exhaustion slowly melting away, as you rest your head on his broad shoulder.. 

As you continue to eat, König wraps his arms around you, his presence providing a comforting stability. The two of you chat softly, sharing light-hearted moments and making plans for the future. It feels like a respite from the weight of the pregnancy, and you find yourself able to let go, even just for a little while.

You’re so grateful for this moment of solace and for the unwavering support König has shown you throughout the pregnancy. Together, you finish the tub of ice cream, savouring every last bite. As you place the empty container aside, König pulls you closer, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

“Thank you for being there for me,” you whisper, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, his voice filled with love and tenderness. “Always, meine Liebe. Always.”

Ghost ♡

As you sit in the car, your heart swells with a mix of emotions. The exhaustion from giving birth to your beautiful baby girl still lingers, but so does the overwhelming joy and love that fills every inch of your being. Next to you, Simon grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he slowly drives the car forward at a much slower pace than the speed limit. The weight of responsibility rests heavily on his shoulders, and you can see the mixture of excitement and nervousness in his brown eyes.

You can’t help but smile as you look at him, his blond hair tousled and his strong jawline set with determination. You reach over and place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers. “We’re really parents now,”  you say softly, the reality of it sinking in. 

Simon glances at you, his lips curling into a tender smile. “Yeah, we are,” he replies, his voice filled with both awe and disbelief. “I can’t believe she’s ours.”

“I can, she looks so much like you,” you say with a soft smile on your lips, constantly stealing glances at the tiny bundle of joy in the rearview mirror, marvelling at her delicate features.

As the car moves along the familiar streets towards home, you can’t help but notice how the people outside are going about their daily routine, seemingly completely oblivious to the life-altering event that has just taken place in your little world. The inside of the car being your own little cocoon of love. You can’t help but reflect on the journey that brought you here. From the moment you found out you were pregnant and telling Simon, to the hours of labour and delivery, it’s been a whirlwind of emotions and anticipation. And now, you’re finally taking your little girl home, to start a new chapter of your lives together.  

As you pull into the driveway, Simon turns off the engine and looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of love and concern. He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches over to unbuckle yours, his touch gentle yet reassuring. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, his worry evident in his voice.

You smile gratefully at him, nodding your head. “I’m tired, but I’m okay,” you reply honestly. “Just a little sore and adjusting to everything.”

Simon nods understandingly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheekbone. “You were amazing,” he whispers, his voice filled with admiration. “I’m so proud of you.”

Tears well up in your eyes at his words, overwhelmed by the love and support he continues to provide. Becoming parents had not been planned, but it was the best surprise life had thrown at you.  

Simon opens the car door and steps out, walking around the car and opening your door, extending his hand to help you out as well. As you step onto the pavement, you take a moment to soak in the warmth of the sun and the scent of blooming flowers in the air. It really feels like a perfect day to bring your little girl home. 

Together, you make your way to the backseat. In the car seat lies your beautiful baby girl, fast asleep with tiny, peaceful breaths. You can’t help but marvel at her, feeling a newfound sense of protectiveness and love wash over you.

With carefully coordinated movements, you lift your daughter into your arms, cradling her close to your chest. Simon stands beside you, his hand resting on your back as you both walk towards the front door.

Inside the house, you’re greeted by an excited bark as Riley, your furry family member, rushes to see the new addition to the pack. Simon gently scoops up your baby girl, cradling her in his arms, and introduces her to her four-legged sibling, making sure that Riley doesn’t lick or touch the baby, despite seemingly being very eager to do so. You watch with a mixture of love and pride as Simon gently guides Riley’s sniffs and licks away from your precious bundle, ensuring both the safety of your newborn and the happiness of the overjoyed German Shepherd. 

As the introductions between Riley and your baby girl continue, you take a moment to admire the scene before you. The bond between Simon and Riley is undeniable, and seeing them both showering your daughter with love fills your heart with warmth. You can already tell that they will be inseparable companions as she grows up.

As the initial excitement settles down, and your little girl has been changed and fed, you make your way to the nursery, where everything has been prepared with utmost care and love. Soft pastel colours adorn the walls, and a cosy rocking chair sits in the corner, ready to cradle you and your little one during those late-night feedings. Simon follows you quietly, his eyes still filled with awe and disbelief.

Gently, you settle your baby girl into the crib, ensuring she is comfortable and at ease. Simon watches every movement, his expression a mix of tenderness and protectiveness. Simon wraps his arms around you from behind, his warmth and presence offering you solace and support, and together, you stand beside the crib, gazing down at your sleeping angel. “We created something beautiful, didn’t we?” he whispers into your ear, his deep voice filled with awe and wonder.

Tears of overwhelming happiness escape from your eyes as you look at the little sleeping girl. “Yes, we did,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

Simon gently rests his chin on top of your head, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I never thought I would have this,” he confesses, his voice filled with sincerity. “I never thought I could deserve something so precious.”

You turn around in his embrace, tears streaming down your cheeks, and look into his eyes, filled with love and gratitude. “Simon, you deserve everything,” you say softly, your voice filled with emotion.  

Simon’s eyes well up with tears as well, and he presses his forehead against yours, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with so much love it almost takes your breath away. “And I will spend the rest of my life making sure you both know how loved and cherished you are.”

You lean in and capture his lips in a tender, heartfelt kiss, sealing your love and commitment to each other and to your little family. In that moment, as your lips meet and the world fades away, you know that everything will be alright. As you break the kiss, you rest your forehead against Simon’s chest, relishing in the closeness and connection you share. “I love you too,” you whisper, your voice filled with an unwavering certainty. 

“Thank you for having given me this, sweetheart,” Simon whispers, his voice choked with emotion.

You look up at Simon, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You’re welcome,” you say sincerely. “I couldn’t wish for a better man to do this with.”

Simon pulls you into a tighter embrace. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go on this journey with anyone else,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest again, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.  

As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the room fills with a peaceful silence. The sound of your baby’s gentle breaths lulls you into a state of tranquillity, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment and gratitude for everything that has brought you to this moment.

With a newfound sense of peace, you both turn your attention back to your daughter, who is still sleeping soundly in her crib. The room is filled with a serene calmness, and you can’t help but marvel at the little miracle that is your daughter, and the love you and Simon share.

Gaz ♡

“Babe!” your voice echoes through the flat. “Babe, quick, quick, come!” 

“What, what! Is everything okay!?” Kyle comes running into the living room, his eyes blown wide as he looks at you with a worried expression. He has always been a little overprotective when it comes to you, but it has reached a whole new level after you found out you were pregnant. 

Now, at a little over four months, you have started to show, not by a whole lot but enough for you to finally look pregnant, which only has made Kyle’s protective instincts kick into even higher gear, he won’t even let you carry your own purse when you walk up the stairs to your flat anymore, you can’t even imagine how he’ll be when you enter your third trimester, but you know that he only means well, and you do find it cute how much he worries about you and the baby. He is so excited to be a dad and you love seeing him embrace this new role. 

You can’t believe that it was only a year ago he accidentally confessed that he wanted to have a family with you, and last week you found out that you’re having a little baby boy. The sonogram of your little bean now hangs on the fridge and you have caught Kyle looking at them with a mixture of awe and anticipation many times throughout the past week. It warms your heart to see the love and excitement radiating from him whenever he catches a glimpse of those sonograms.

But now, as you beckon him urgently, his worry is etched all over his face. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart before speaking. “He kicked!” you exclaim, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and disbelief. Both your hands placed at your slightly protruding belly you look up at him with teary eyes and a smile threatening to split your face in half . 

Kyle’s worried expression instantly turns into one of sheer amazement. He takes a step closer to you, his hand trembling as he reaches out to touch your belly.

“He kicked?” Kyle repeats, his voice filled with awe.

You nod, your own excitement beginning to overflow. “Yes, just now! It was like a little flutter, but it was definitely a kick!” you confirm, feeling another surge of emotion welling up inside you. This moment, this connection with your baby, it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. “Our little guy is definitely making his presence known.”

Kyle’s eyes well up with tears as he gently rests his hand on your belly. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, his voice filled with overwhelming joy. “That’s our boy, already letting us know he’s here. I can’t believe it.”

You wrap your arms around Kyle, feeling a surge of happiness flowing through both of you. It’s a moment you’ve been eagerly awaiting, the first tangible connection with your unborn child. The months leading up to this point have been filled with anticipation and wonder, and now, with this simple kick, it feels like everything is falling into place.

As you both stand there, basking in the joy of the moment, you can’t help but reflect on how far you’ve come. From that accidental confession a year ago to now experiencing the first movements of your baby, it feels like such a beautiful journey of love and growth that is just about to grow even deeper.

“He’s going to be so loved, Kyle,” you say softly, your voice filled with tenderness as you look deeply into his eyes. “And he’s going to have the best dad in the world.”

Kyle’s face lights up with a mix of emotions - pride, happiness, and a touch of nervousness. “I hope I can live up to that,” he admits, his voice tinged with humility. “But I promise you, I will always strive to be the best father I can be. Our little boy will never doubt how much he is loved.”

You lean in closer, brushing your lips against his in a gentle kiss. “I have no doubt about that,” you whisper, feeling overwhelmed with love for both Kyle and the baby growing inside you.

Kyle chuckles as you break the kiss, a mixture of pride and adoration shining in his eyes. “And he’s going to have the most amazing mom, someone who will love and protect him every step of the way.”

With a smile, you rest your hand on top of Kyle’s, pressing it gently against your belly. “We created this little miracle together,” you say, your voice filled with awe. “And now, we get to watch him grow and I can’t wait to witness the beautiful person he will become.”

Kyle’s eyes never leave your face as he listens to your words. “I can’t wait either, thank you so much for giving me this, I’m so grateful for you,” he says sincerely, his voice laced with emotion.

You are just about to open your mouth to answer him, to tell him how grateful you are to have him, but you stop up your eyes widening with surprise, Kyle’s beautiful mahogany eyes mirroring yours. Your little boy just kicked again, this time even stronger than before and his tiny foot had aligned perfectly with where Kyle’s palm is resting against your tummy.   

You both gasp in amazement, feeling the undeniable connection between you two and your son. It’s as if your souls have already intertwined, creating a bond that will last a lifetime. Tears stream down your face as you witness the look on Kyle’s face as he feels his baby move for the first time, overwhelmed with emotions you can’t quite put into words.

A mixture of awe and disbelief radiates from Kyle’s expression as he looks down at your belly, feeling the strength of your son’s kick against his hand. “Did he just..?” he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and excitement.

You nod, tears of joy streaming down your face. “Yeah, he did,” you reply, your voice trembling with emotion. “I think our little boy wanted to say hi to his daddy,” you sniffle.

A radiant smile spreads across Kyle’s face, his love and amazement shining in his eyes. “Is that right, buddy?” he says, his voice full of affection. “You’re already showing us how strong and determined you are. We’re so proud of you, little one.”

He kneels down in front of you, placing gentle kisses on your belly. He whispers sweet words to his unborn son, promising to be the best dad he can be and vowing to protect him with all his might. It’s a beautiful sight, and it makes your love for him grow even stronger.

In this moment, you know that the love between you and Kyle will only continue to grow, nurtured by the beautiful bond you are forming with your unborn child. And as you stand there, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the incredible journey you are embarking on as parents. 

Soap ♡

You stand at the threshold of the living room, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you take in the heartwarming scene before you. The last sunlight of the day spills through the window, casting a gentle glow across the room, and there, on the middle of the carpet stands Johnny, tenderly cradling your precious little two-month-old daughter in his strong arms. 

You watch as Johnny softly hums a lullaby, his voice soothing and comforting as he gently sways back and forth. Your daughter, oblivious to the world around her, nestles contently against his broad chest, her tiny fingers curling around his shirt.

Mesmerised by the enchanting sight, you lean against the doorway, your heart swelling with an indescribable joy. You drink in every detail, the way your boyfriend’s eyes sparkle with adoration as he gazes upon the tiny being in his arms, the way his fingers carefully trace the delicate features of her tiny face.

The warmth in your heart fills your entire being as you witness the immense love and adoration Johnny has for your little girl. It’s a sight that makes you realise just how lucky you are to have him by your side. The way he handles her with such care and tenderness reassures you that your daughter is safe and thriving, and that you chose the best man in the world to be the father of your child. 

The three of you are staying at Johnny’s parents house for the night. There had been a big family gathering earlier in the day, but now the last guests have left. Only you, your daughter, Johnny and his parents are left in the house, but the joyful atmosphere from the gathering lingers in the air, still infused with laughter and love. It had been the first time that a lot of Johnny’s extended family had met your daughter, and the love and excitement they had showered upon her had made your heart swell with gratitude. 

Johnny had been so proud as he introduced his daughter to everyone, beaming with pride as he showed off her tiny fingers and button nose. 

Johnny’s nephews, who have seen her multiple times before, absolutely loves her, already wanting to play with her, and showering her with affection. Noah and Oliver had taken turns holding her, their joyful laughter filling the room as they interacted with the newest member of their family. Even little Alfie, at only a year and half, had been curious about her, clearly intrigued by seeing a human even smaller than himself. It was truly adorable, and you and Hannah, Johnny’s sister in law, had laughed heartily at their interactions.     

As you stand there in the doorway, taking in the beautiful moment between Johnny and your daughter, you feel a warmth in your heart that is unmatched. It’s moments like these that make you appreciate just how fortunate you are to have Johnny by your side.

Suddenly, you hear a soft rustling sound, and you turn your head to see Johnny’s mother, Teresa, quietly walks up next to you. The smile on her face mirrors your own as she watches her son bonding with his little girl. She gently places a hand on your arm.

“Isn’t it just incredible?” she whispers, her voice filled with awe and joy. “She is so wonderful. You must be so proud, my dear.”

You meet Teresa’s eyes, feeling a lump forming in your throat. The love and admiration that shines in her gaze mirrors your own feelings. “I am,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “I know I’m biassed as her mother, but she really is the most wonderful little girl in the world. And I truly couldn’t have asked for a better father for her. Johnny has been so amazing.”

Teresa nods, her hand tightening ever so slightly on your arm as she looks back at Johnny, a proud and tender smile gracing her lips. “He’s always had a big heart, but seeing him with his own child... it’s something truly special.”

You both watch in comfortable silence as Johnny continues to sway and hum, apparently unaware that he has an audience, the room fills with the enchanting melody. The love in the air is palpable, and you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude for this precious moment. Taking a deep breath, you turn to Teresa and speak softly, “Thank you for raising such an incredible son. I really couldn’t have asked for a better family to become a part of.”

Teresa’s eyes well up with tears, and she pulls you into a warm embrace. Her voice is filled with emotion as she whispers, “No, my dear, thank you. Thank you for bringing so much happiness into Johnny’s life, and ours. You are truly a blessing, dear.”

You hold each other for a moment, basking in the love that surrounds your little family. As you break away from the embrace, you glance back at Johnny, still lost in the world of fatherhood with your sleeping daughter in his arms.

As the late evening sets in, and you and Johnny have bid his parents goodnight, you retreat to the guest room. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light on the room, creating a cosy atmosphere. You gently lay your daughter down in her travel crib, careful not to wake her from her peaceful slumber. Johnny, still beaming with love and adoration, watches the two of you with a tender smile.

Once your daughter is settled, and you and Johnny have changed and brushed your teeth, you climb into bed, snuggling close to each other.

As you lay there, Johnny reaches over and intertwines his fingers with yours. He leans in to press a soft kiss against your forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of affection and gratitude. You smile, feeling the same emotions swell within your heart.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice filled with tenderness. “And I love our little girl.”

Johnny pulls you closer, his embrace comforting and reassuring. “I couldn’t ask for anything more,” he says, his voice sincere. “Everyone really loves her, huh?”

You nod with a smile, the room filled with a gentle warmth. “Yes, everyone adores her. They have good taste.”

Johnny chuckles softly, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy. “Well, who can blame them? She is truly something special.” He brushes his thumb against the back of your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I would get her back from Maighread,” he chuckles, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and adoration. You laugh softly, recalling how Johnny’s aunt had playfully refused to give your daughter back after holding her for the first time, claiming that she was too sweet not to keep. 

“I have to say, I’m glad she finally handed her over,” you tease, playfully nudging Johnny’s side. 

He grins, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Yeah, she put up quite the fight. But I prevailed in the end.”

You both share a moment of lighthearted laughter before the atmosphere turns more tender. Johnny’s expression softens as he gazes into your eyes, his voice filled with unspoken love. “I’m so grateful for you, and for our daughter. I never knew I could feel this much happiness.”

You reach up and gently cup Johnny’s cheek, your touch conveying all the love and gratitude that fills your heart. “I feel the same way,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. “Having you, and our little girl, has brought so much joy and meaning into my life. I couldn’t imagine it any other way.”

Johnny’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears, his voice cracking with emotion. “I promise to always be there for you both, to protect and love you with everything I have. You two are my entire world.”

Tears well up in your own eyes as you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to Johnny’s lips. The air is filled with an electric mix of love, contentment, and a promise for a future filled with happiness. As you lay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you silently savour the moment, knowing that this love, this bond, is something truly extraordinary. You drift off to sleep, grateful for the blessing of having each other and excited for all the beautiful moments that lie ahead for your little family.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated 💕

[agiiiiiiiiiiiii]

Baby Fever

Hope you like this one!

nico hischier x reader Theme: fluff Words: 981

—————————————————————————

It was a crisp winter afternoon in Switzerland, and you were bundled up in a cozy sweater as you sat in Nico’s childhood home, surrounded by his family. The house was alive with warmth and laughter, the sounds of clinking glasses and soft conversations filling the air. Nico’s cousin had arrived with her brand-new baby, a tiny little bundle of joy named Ella, and you were absolutely smitten.

As you cradled Ella in your arms, her tiny fingers wrapped around your pinky, your heart melted. She was so delicate, her cheeks rosy and round, and her little coos had you smiling non-stop. Nico sat beside you, his arm draped over the back of your chair, watching you with a soft, almost dreamy expression.

“You’re a natural,” he murmured, leaning closer so only you could hear.

“She’s perfect,” you whispered back, your gaze locked on the baby. “I think I’ve caught baby fever.”

Nico chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Careful, someone might hold you to that.”

Before you could respond, his older brother, Luca, called out from across the room. “Nico, look at you! You’re practically glowing over there.”

The whole family turned to look at you both, and Nico’s ears turned bright red. “I’m not glowing,” he protested, though his hand instinctively rested on your shoulder.

“Oh, come on,” his mom teased, a playful glint in her eye. “You’re watching her with Ella like you’re imagining a little one of your own.”

Nico groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mom…”

But the teasing didn’t stop there. His cousin chimed in, grinning mischievously. “You know, Nico, you’ve always been good with kids. Maybe it’s time you and y/n start thinking about it.”

The room erupted in laughter as Nico tried to deflect. “Can everyone just relax? We’ve got time!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the color rising in your cheeks as well. “Don’t worry, handsome,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “I’m not expecting you to make me a mom by next week.”

“Good,” he said, though his smile betrayed him. “But… you do look really good with a baby.”

His whispered admission sent a flutter through your chest, and when you glanced at him, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. Later that night, as you lay in bed together, Nico pulled you close, his fingers trailing gently along your arm.

“They were right, you know,” he said softly.

“About what?” you asked, resting your head on his chest.

“I couldn’t stop watching you with Ella. You’re amazing with her.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “Someday, I’d love to see you like that with our baby.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you tilted your head to meet his gaze. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah,” he said, his expression earnest. “Not now—no pressure—but someday. I think we’d make a pretty good team.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. “I think so too. Someday.”

————————————

The next morning, you woke up early to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. Nico was still asleep beside you, his arm draped over your waist, his steady breathing a soft comfort. You slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him, and wandered downstairs to find Ella already awake in her mother’s arms.

"Would you like to hold her?" Nico's cousin asked, smiling warmly as she noticed you lingering near them.

"Absolutely," you replied, your heart leaping at the chance. You gently took Ella into your arms, cradling her close. She blinked up at you with her big, curious eyes, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. You rocked her softly, humming a quiet tune as you paced the living room.

It wasn’t long before Nico appeared in the doorway, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair was a little messy, and he was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants that made him look adorably relaxed. But when he saw you with Ella, his tired expression melted into something else entirely—a mix of warmth and longing.

"You’re really not making this easy for me," he said, his voice tinged with a teasing edge as he leaned against the doorframe.

You turned to look at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist and peering down at the baby in your arms. "Watching you with her," he said softly, his lips quirking into a small smile. "You’re too good at this. It’s messing with my head."

You laughed quietly, adjusting Ella as she let out a tiny yawn. "It’s not my fault she’s so perfect," you replied, giving him a playful nudge. "And besides, you’re the one who keeps staring at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Like you’re already imagining us with one of our own," you teased, arching an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe I am," he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "But you’re not exactly helping by looking so natural with her."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, and you glanced back down at Ella, who was now dozing peacefully in your arms. "Well, maybe someday," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nico tilted your chin up so you were looking at him, his eyes warm and filled with a quiet intensity. "Yeah," he murmured, brushing a thumb along your cheek. "Someday."

The moment was interrupted by his cousin calling from the kitchen. "Nico, if you want to practice, you can change her diaper next!"

He groaned, making you laugh. "Guess I’ll stick to being the fun uncle for now," he said, grinning down at you. "But don’t think for a second that I’m not counting down to our someday."

[coff33andb00ks]

lando + 34 plsss <3 tyy

34: holding hands while driving riding (changed for reasons)

Requests closed until I catch up <3

Lando thanks the crew again, pausing at the top of the steps to watch you cross the tarmac to the waiting car. He smiles, his nerves starting up, opening the camera on his phone to video you, slowly descending and pausing again at the bottom. The early morning sunlight slanting across the airport dances off your hair and his nerves settle, because he knows how happy you are.

"I'm gonna ask you to marry me today," he says softly.

He's grinning when you turn back to see what's taking him so long. Ending the recording, he jogs to catch up with you, his breath shaky as he bends to offer you a sweet kiss.

The ride to the rented chalet is quiet, your head leaning on his shoulder. He's holding your hand in his lap, his thumb idly stroking your bare ring finger. He tries to imagine it with the ring he bought months ago adorning it and his heart leaps into his throat, stealing his breath for a moment. But you hum, your other hand sliding over his and he feels the worries fade, his heart settling in its rightful place. He tilts his head, presses a kiss into your hair.

"Love you," you murmur.

It still makes him feel weak to hear you say those words. "Love you more."

He doesn't mean he loves you more than you love him, but you always playfully bicker every time he says it. He lets you win, heart racing as the car stops outside the chalet.

He's got his phone out again, recording you going up the steps. "I love you more than the bad days," he says softly, waiting until you turn to check on him then ending the video and heading after you.

The ring box is heavy in his coat pocket as he walks with you along the trail and he feels sick as he watches you skip ahead with one of your usual bursts of energy.

"I love you more than any distance between us," he whispers, the sickness wilting under the beauty of your smile when you turn back.

You always turn back. Always wait for him to catch up. Always smile, even when you're mad or upset at him. He was so used to people leaving him behind, carrying on without him when he couldn't find his footing. When you didn't, when you waited patiently and gave him the encouragement he needed he realized his footing was fine, it was the goals he'd set that were unobtainable.

Your hand slides into his and he would walk anywhere with you if it made you smile like you are now. The destination doesn't matter, he realizes that now. It's the journey-

It's the climb. Holy shit, Hannah Montana was right.

-and the person at his side during it.

It's scary and terrifying and he's worried he'll fuck up more than he makes things right. The box in his pocket weighs a ton now and he can feels his palms sweating, his mouth going dry.

"It's so beautiful out here. I'm so glad we're here," you say, slowing down to admire the wildflowers growing alongside the trail.

He lets go of your hand. You're going to pick a few, take them back and tuck them in a jar in the kitchen. And his mind flashes with the image of you bringing flowers and light into his life until it ends.

When you turn back, a bunch of flowers in your hands, he's on his knees.

"Lando?"

"I love you."

"I love you," you whisper and he can see the confusion, the concern. Until he pulls the box out. Then it's just pure joy and love.

"I... I had a speech," he whispers as tears start falling. "Can't remember it though, only that I love you. I love you more than yesterday and I'll love you more than anything that tries to pull us apart. I love you more, y/n. Will you-"

"Yes," you sob.

"-marry me," he grunts as you throw your arms around him. Wildflowers scatter and the ring box hits the ground but he doesn't care.

He's got you.

[scarletwinterxx]

dad haechan scenario

you know who i miss? my nct dad universe😅 i have to re-read them first to remember what i wrote last, but for now here's haechan being the best girl dad ever🤍💛

pt. 1 - Lee and Lily

pt. 2 - bigger that the whole sky

pt. 3 - lily and chocobi

pt. 4 - little flower

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025. Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The sun is high, casting a golden hue over the park as the three of you enjoy a relaxing family day.

Haechan holds Nari's tiny hand while she skips along, her giggles filling the air. You're carrying a small picnic bag, watching your husband beam with pride every time Nari looks up at him with her big, sparkling eyes.

Haechan is the epitome of a doting father. He indulges her every whim—whether it’s an extra scoop of ice cream, piggyback rides, or her favorite pink balloon he bought earlier.

The day seems perfect. Nari plays on the swings while Haechan pushes her gently, her squeals of joy echoing as she soars higher. You're seated on a bench nearby, enjoying the sight of your two favorite people basking in their world. Haechan has always had a knack for making her laugh, and you adore the way he dotes on her. It warms your heart to see how much he loves being a father.

After a while, Nari darts off toward the sandbox. Haechan joins you on the bench, his arm draping around your shoulders. “She’s got so much energy,” he chuckles, his eyes never leaving her. “Where does she even store it all?”

“She gets it from you,” you tease, earning a playful nudge. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, content in each other’s company while watching Nari construct her masterpiece in the sand.

It happens in an instant.

One moment, Nari is sitting in the sandbox. The next, she’s on her feet, chasing after a stray balloon that has floated into the breeze. Your heart skips a beat as you realize the direction she’s heading—toward the busy street.

“Nari!” Haechan shouts, his voice cutting through the noise of the park.

Both of you leap up from the bench, running toward her. She’s so small and quick, and your heart pounds with terror as you see her just a few feet from the edge of the curb. A car whizzes by, oblivious to the little girl running toward danger.

Haechan reaches her just in time, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back. He kneels down, his face pale with fear. “Nari, what were you thinking?!” His voice is sharper than usual, his fear manifesting as anger. “You could’ve gotten hurt! You know better than to run off like that!”

Nari’s eyes widen, tears brimming as she stares at her father in shock. He’s never raised his voice at her like this before. Her little lips quiver, and she bursts into tears, turning away from him and running straight into your arms.

You crouch down, scooping her up as she buries her face in your shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s got you,” you soothe, rubbing her back. Her sobs are muffled against you, but she clings tightly, refusing to let go.

Haechan stands there, his expression a mixture of guilt and frustration. “Nari…” he starts, but she shakes her head furiously, tightening her grip on you.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” you say gently, giving him a sympathetic look. “Let her calm down first.”

The walk back to your picnic spot is quiet. Nari refuses to look at her dad, keeping her head nestled against your shoulder. Haechan follows a few steps behind, his hands shoved into his pockets and his face heavy with regret. He keeps glancing at Nari, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Once you’re seated on the blanket, Nari finally loosens her hold on you. Her little sniffles subside as you stroke her hair and hum softly.

Haechan crouches a few feet away, hesitant but determined. “Nari, Daddy’s sorry,” he says, his voice soft and pleading. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just so worried. I love you so much, and I got scared when I thought something bad might happen to you.”

Nari peeks at him from behind your arm, her eyes still watery. “You yelled at me,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

Haechan nods, his gaze full of remorse. “I did, and I’m really sorry. I was wrong to yell. But do you know why I was so upset? Because you’re the most important thing in the world to me. I don’t want anything to happen to my little girl.”

There’s a long pause before Nari finally lets go of your arm and takes a small step toward him. “You scared me, Daddy.”

“I know, and I promise I’ll try not to do that again,” he says, opening his arms. “Can I have a hug?”

Nari hesitates for a moment, then rushes into his embrace. Haechan scoops her up, holding her close as she nestles against his chest. “I’m sorry, my angel” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Daddy loves you so much.”

You watch the scene unfold, your heart swelling with relief and love. Haechan looks at you over Nari’s shoulder, a soft smile on his face as if to say thank you for being the bridge between them.

The rest of the day is quieter but no less filled with love. Haechan is extra attentive, making sure Nari feels safe and happy. By the time you leave the park, she’s giggling again, perched on her dad’s shoulders as he pretends to be a galloping horse.

The house is quiet, save for the sound of Nari’s soft laughter echoing from her bedroom as Haechan reads her a bedtime story.

You’re in the hallway, tidying up some of her toys, but your ears stay tuned to the sound of his voice. He’s doing the silly voices again—the ones that never fail to make her giggle uncontrollably.

Eventually, the laughter dies down, and you know the story has come to an end. You peek toward the door, careful not to make a sound, and hear Haechan’s gentle voice.

“Nari,” he begins, his tone calm and soothing, “can we talk about what happened at the park today?”

There’s a pause, and then her small voice pipes up. “Are you still mad at me, Daddy?”

“No, love,” he says quickly. “I was never really mad at you. I was scared. So, so scared.” His voice wavers slightly, and you can hear the sincerity in it. “When I saw you running toward the street, I thought something bad might happen to you, and that made my heart hurt. I raised my voice because I didn’t know how else to tell you how serious it was.”

Another pause. “I’m sorry I ran away,” Nari says softly.

Haechan sighs gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. But do you understand why it’s important to stay close to Mommy and Daddy when we’re outside?”

“Because cars are dangerous?” she guesses.

“That’s right,” he says, his tone full of encouragement. “Even if you see something fun, like a balloon, it’s really important to stop and tell Mommy or me first. We want to keep you safe, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she whispers. “I won’t do it again.”

“I know you won’t, princess. You’re such a smart girl.” You hear the rustle of sheets, and you can imagine him tucking her in snugly. “And remember, no matter what, Mommy and I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” she replies, her voice sleepy now.

“Goodnight, my little angel,” Haechan says softly. There’s the faint sound of a kiss before the door creaks open slightly, and he steps out into the hallway, closing it gently behind him.

You’re standing there, leaning against the wall, and as soon as he turns, you wrap your arms around him tightly. He freezes for a moment, then relaxes into your embrace, his arms circling your waist.

“You’re the best dad, you know that?” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Haechan chuckles softly, though his voice is tinged with humility. “I don’t know about that. I feel like I messed up earlier.”

“No, you didn’t,” you insist, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “You handled everything perfectly. You were scared, sure, but the way you talked to her just now? The way you explained everything so gently? That’s what makes you an amazing dad.”

His lips curve into a small, bashful smile, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I just want her to grow up knowing she’s loved and protected.”

“She does,” you say firmly, resting your head against his chest. “And so do I.”

The two of you stand there in the quiet hallway, wrapped in each other’s arms. In that moment, all the fear and tension from earlier melt away, leaving only the warmth of love and gratitude—for him, for Nari, and for the little family you’ve built together.

[ellssbellss]

Hey! I love your writing so much, especially lavender roses! I was wondering if you could write a Host Club x reader who has a lot of random hobbies (woodworking, painting, fencing, singing, writing, etc)?

I just know that if I had Ouran money, I’d have so many more hobbies. Thank you!

my life is a little hectic right now, as all you lovely people know. but I had this written, or most of it anyway, and I wanted to post it :) thank you for your patience with me while I deal with this difficult time, and for your amazing request!

The Hosts and their S.O. with too many hobbies! {Ohshc x Gender Neutral!Hobbiest!Reader}

missing Honey and Haruhi - will add them when I can!

.oOo.

Tamaki’s reader:

Ballet

Gardening

Painting

Tamaki’s eyes sparkled as you leaped across the stage, never daring to look away from your sculpted body framed in the dramatic stage lights. Tears had been glistening in his violet eyes since your first pirouette, and now he was wiping his cheek every chance he could get. Quickly, so he didn’t miss a single moment. 

The prince was left breathless as you danced. The art of ballet flowed so naturally through your form, you looked like you belonged on that stage. Through the kaleidoscope of his tears, Tamaki sighed as you spun and jumped and just moved so fluidly, the emotion on your face making him feel with you.

Your technique dazzled every single member of the audience, and when you bowed, the blonde man was the first to shoot up from his seat. He shoved his palms together unceremoniously, whooping and cheering as everyone politely clapped around him, but he didn’t care. When you tipped your head up and found his wet eyes in the crowd with a playful smile on your lips, he knew he had never seen anything more beautiful. 

Scratch that. 

“Tamaki!” Your hand shot up from the sea of people filing into the theater lobby, and he zoned in on it. On a mission, a blonde head and a (h/c) head come closer together, pushing through the black suits and long dresses in order to greet the other. Finally, the waters part, and Tamaki takes in your glory with a grin. 

“Mon amour…” He breathes, and it’s all you can do not to skip to him as you hold your pointe shoes in your hand. The bouquet of flowers he brought are set down in favor of catching your form and spinning you in the air. His hands come flat against your back as he buries his face in your neck, whispering your praises into your hair. 

“You did so well, my love.” He feels your hands wrap tighter around his neck. “You’re so incredibly talented.” 

Setting you down gently, he cradles your face. Your beaming at him, pride and adrenaline coursing through your pupils as you try to catch your breath, and he revises his initial thought. 

This is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Your gorgeous features enveloped in pure joy. 

Chuckling, his voice is like butter as he runs one of his fingers over your cheekbone. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Your chest heaves, but your smile is bright. “Especially after seeing you in the audience.”

“Please,” He says, tugging you closer. “I never would’ve missed the opportunity to see you shine.”

Tamaki kisses you then, and you melt. His fingers are gentle against your jaw, peeking into your hairline for a moment as your lips meet sweetly. You hum when he pulls away, wacking him when he smirks at the blush on your face. 

“Everytime.” He says, teasing you with a kiss to your cheek. 

“Shut up.” You groan. “You can’t kiss me like that and not expect it to affect me.”

“Like what?” A blonde eyebrow quirks up. “Like this?”

He leans in again before someone clears their throat. A man with a collar too high on his neck gives you two a disapproving glare as he walks by, clearly upset by the dramatic display of affection. 

You just giggle as the man moves on somewhere else. “Maybe we shouldn’t kiss like that in front of all these people.”

Tamaki rolls his eyes but steps away from you ever-so-slightly. “When you look at me like that, I can’t help myself.”

“Contain yourself.” You tease. 

“That will never be possible, mon amour, when my heart can’t even contain its beat with you in this leotard.” Shrugging off his suit jacket, he drapes it around your shoulders. “Maybe cover up a little though, huh? Just for my sanity?”

Laughing, you pull your arms through the too big sleeves, basking in the cologne smell and the sense of security it brings you. “Okay. You can just take it off later.”

Tamaki’s eyes widen as a blush forms on his cheeks, but he grins. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Look who’s talking.” Putting your arm through his, you lean against his side and giggle, his stature supporting you like it always does. But as you turn him towards the front door of the theater, he gasps. 

“Wait!” Your boyfriend quickly spins and grabs the flowers that were almost forgotten on the carpet, luckily not trampled by the crowd of opera goers. 

“These…” Separating your arms softly, he stands in front of you, bowing as he holds out the gift. “...are for you, darling.”

He hears you gasp, and when he straightens, your eyes are wide and sparkling at the flowers in front of you. (E/c) pools scan every petal, every leaf and stem, and your hand gently cradles the buds. 

“Tama…” Your voice is soft enough to not disturb the flora in front of you. “These are from my garden.” 

He nods. “I wanted to make the bouquet special enough for you.”

“You wrapped them up so beautifully…” You breathe, and you scan them top to bottom. Your eyes pause at the bottom of the stems. “You didn’t give them a diagonal cut?” 

A hand comes to cover his mouth. “Oh, no! I forgot to give them a diagonal cut!” Tamaki swallows before running a hand through his hair. “Before I fix it, of course, just remind me what that is.”

Your hair doesn’t jostle from the hairspray that holds your ballet hair together when you shake your head. “Silly prince. It’s when you cut the bottom of the stem diagonally when you pick them, so that they can absorb more water.”

“Oh…” And with that, a determined gleam twinkled in his eye. “That’s an easy fix! Let me find some scissors.” Quickly, he looks around the bustling lobby, waving his hand. “Who has scissors?!”

“No! No, Tamaki.” Laughing, you bring his hand back down to your side, cradling the large bouquet in your other arm. “It’s fine. Just remember for next time.” 

He sees your throat bob, as if you’re holding something else back. “Is there something else, amour?”

You take a breath, fully prepared to deny anything, but you sigh, slumping your shoulders as another critique spills out of you. “And also, for next time, just get me chocolate? I work really hard on making sure these flowers stay alive, and they look much prettier on the bush they were grown on then arranged only to die in a few days.”

Your heart lunges when you see a darkened expression take over his face. “Oh my god, I killed your flowers.”

“That’s okay! It’s fine, roses are easy to grow this time of year, I promise.” You hurry to correct him, putting your palm on his jaw. “I was trying to make it special, I swear.” He whines. His hand comes to rest over yours on his cheek, his fingers grasping your own. “I just didn’t think about it that way.” 

You simper at him. “It was special. Knowing how much care you put into arranging them like this is so special to me. Thank you, Tamaki.”

It’s your turn to kiss him on the cheek, and he practically melts. As you’re about to walk out of the busy theater, you feel Tamaki’s arms wrap around your form. He lifts you, cradling you like the royalty you are. 

Before you can protest, he shoves your face into the crook of his neck, blonde wisps tickling your cheeks. “Your poor legs, they must be so sore after all that dancing.”

“I can walk just fine.”

“I know.” He squeezes you closer to his chest, and your arms betray your words as they wrap around his neck. 

Tamaki takes you back to your home, your parents having missed the recital in favor of a business trip somewhere. There was a long shower, a hot meal, and plenty of cuddling and soft touches before the evening sky touched down into night, and the moonlight poured into the large windows of your place. 

Now, he leans on the couch, his feet propped up as he stretches his long form across the length of the white cushions. The serene night fluttered as he opened his eyes from a lazy nap he took, inhaling the scent that was so perfectly you. It calmed him. 

To his side, a clanking sound rang into the quiet space. He slowly turned his head to see you gently setting a cup of tea onto one of the side tables. He meets your sheepish gaze when you realize you woke him up, biting your lip. 

“I know you’re better at making tea, but I tried.” You offer, spinning the saucer with two fingers so that the handle was facing him. A sweet smile pulls his beautiful face as he sits up.

“Thank you, mon amour.” Reaching for the tea cup, he sees that you are about to walk away from him towards the arching window in your bedroom, the one that looks out over your garden. There is a paint easel set up facing the view, a nearly-exact replica of it being portrayed on your canvas. 

Tsking, he lightly grips your wrist, putting pressure to spin you back around. With a yelp, you fall seamlessly across his lap, his arm bracing your back. 

“I didn’t get to thank you properly.” His voice rumbles, and his lips are pressed to yours again, leaving you to soften into a lovesick puddle. Your mouths move once, twice, and you can’t resist holding him there for a third time before you separate. His violet eyes transfix on your features, a gentle smile on his lips. 

“What?” You ask, laughing as he zones out once again. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he sinks into his, what you like to call, mental theater. “Tamaki, you’re staring.”

Blinking, that sparkle in his eyes fades, but not very much. A finger comes out and wipes off a smear of paint from your cheek. “No, I’m falling, amour. All over again.”

Humming, you pick his chin back up into your grasp. “Then I’ll be here to catch you, darling.” 

A cherry blush coats his cheeks when you initiate the kiss this time, and he makes a sound of pleasure against your lips. When you pull away, he is stuttering and hiding behind the tea cup. Chuckling, you watch his hand shake slightly as he tries to regain his cool. “You okay there?”

“What? Of course, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” He rambles, taking a very purposeful sip of the tea you brought him. Then his cheeks bulge, struggling to hold the liquid in his mouth. 

“Oh god, it’s terrible, isn’t it?” You say, covering your mouth. 

Tamaki shakes his head, but he is breaking out into a nervous sweat. 

“Tamaki, spit it out if you don’t like it.” Urging him, you push the cup back to his closed lips. He refuses, his face turning a slight shade of green. 

“Tama!” You laugh a little, pleading with him. His grip on the tea cup tightens, and you see the struggle in his swallow as he forces it down his throat. 

“G-great as always, angel.” He lies, still wincing at the aftertaste. “Oh mon dieu…” He curses underneath his breath. 

Rolling your eyes, you place the cup back on the saucer. “You don’t have to lie.” You insist with a teasing smirk. 

A weak grin escapes his full lips. “You are such a talented person, (Y/n).” He starts, nuzzling into your shoulder. “You’re perfect.” And even as his stomach turns, he is grateful to have a significant other with many talents, even if making tea isn’t one of them. 

.oOo.

Kyoya’s reader:

Debate club

Woodworking

Reading

Long legs race down the hall, dressed in perfectly iron slacks and shined dress shoes. His black book is clasped in his hand as Kyoya turns another corner, the door to his destination finally coming in sight. Breathing a sigh of relief, the megane fixes his glasses, gray eyes trained on the entrance down the hall. 

Students are bustling outside of the auditorium, waiting in line as the start time for the debate draws nearer. Kyoya, at his height, pushes past his fellow peers, easily being able to see over the ocean of yellow dresses and lavender jackets. 

Before he can reach the heavy double doors into the theater space, he’s stopped by a hand at his arm. 

“Excuse me, sir, but you can’t enter the auditorium yet. Not until I’ve been given the green light.” The voice of a security guard sounds over the noise of side conversations, and Kyoya’s dark lashes flick up to meet her stern ones. Clearing his throat, he gently detaches his arm from her grip. He matches her polite smile, a fake one stretching his own lips. 

“I understand, Miss. But I’m actually late. I was supposed to meet someone backstage, but I unfortunately got mine and their schedules muddled.” 

“I’m sorry, sir, but these doors are closed to the public until the start time.” 

Squinting slightly, his host smile grows a little longer on his pale skin. “It’s Miss Kato Hisa, isn’t it?”

The security guard’s eyes widened, knowing that her name tag had been lost in her car for weeks now. “Yes, sir. Have we met?”

“Not formally, no.” Tucking his black book under his arm, he reaches his palm out, grasping her hand in greeting. “I am Ootori Kyoya. Third son to the Ootori family.” 

Her hand tightened in his before he let it drop, and she gasped excitedly. “Oh, my gosh, I didn’t realize! Your police force is the top force in the nation.” She smiles sheepishly. “I actually submitted my application a few weeks ago–”

“I’m well aware.” His deep voice cuts her off. “My family only accepts the best, you know. But, I’m sure my father and the chief of the force could be urged in a different direction, with the proper motivations.” 

Hisa’s grin widens. “Wow, Ootori-san, that would be amazing! I would be so grateful–”

“If I could be let in now, then you may have your chance.”

Her grin falls. “But, I can’t do that, sir. I am under strict orders not to let anyone in until the appropriate time.”

“Then I’m afraid your application would fall to the bottom of the pile unseen.” Kyoya’s facade is too sweet for his words. “Forgotten.”

The security guard’s face falls into a thin line, searching the Ootori son’s eyes for the joke, or a speck of unseriousness. Of course, she will find none. She can’t read him the way you can.

“You’re cruel.” Swallowing, her fingers grip around the door handle. Pulling it open a crack wide enough for his lithe frame to slip through, she mumbles as he passes. “Enjoy the debate.” 

“Thank you, I will.” His tone is low as he moves down the aisles to the sides of the stage. What a weak integrity, he muses, flying down the carpeted stairs. She couldn’t last a day on our police force. 

Soon, he hears bustling from behind the debate stage, and he swishes the curtains to the side, slipping into a crowd of debate teams. A stormy gaze sweeps over the crowd, looking for a conglomerate of dark blue suits, the official uniform of the Ouran Debate Team. Once he finds them, he makes a beeline for an (h/c) individual bouncing their leg, a historical fiction novel in their hands. 

He simpers at the genre. You only read historical fiction when you’re nervous. 

You don’t hear the click of his dress shoes before he is stopped right in front of you, too engrossed in the story to pick out your boyfriend’s movements.

“(Y/n).” That voice shocks you from your trance, and you sweep your gaze up from your seat to find Kyoya smirking down at you, a little flushed. Gasping, you stand immediately, a wide smile taking over your lips. 

“Kyo.” You greet him happily, placing your book onto a lone table next to you. “I’m so glad you made it.” Reaching out, you fix a strand of his hair that had been sticking up from his wind-swept look. Then you notice his rapid breaths and his pink cheekbones. 

Chuckling a bit, your smile grows. “Are you okay? Did you run here?”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes at you. “Of course not. Just a brisk walk.” He steps closer, the palm not grasping his journal resting onto your hip. “I apologize for being late. I got the dates confused.”

“The dates?”

Nodding, he flips open the famous black book as he pulls you a little closer into his side so that you could see. You lean into his shoulder as he shows you the section that acts as his planner.

“I thought your debate was tomorrow, when, in reality, your woodworking exposition is tomorrow evening. Since your exposition starts an hour later, I incorrectly believed I had more time to work on my club’s budget.”

“You do tend to get lost in the numbers.” 

His eyes slip past you to the book next to you. “We all have our methods of escape.” 

“I can’t argue with that.” You agree, (e/c) meeting thunderstorms. 

“Now, that’s not true.”  He teasingly gestures to your debate team. “Isn’t that the point of all this?” 

Groaning, you lay your head on his shoulder. “Don’t remind me.”

“(Y/n), my dear.” Pulling apart from you slightly, he takes your hands in his. They are smaller, and he likes that he can encapsulate them in his grasp, keeping them safe. “You’re nervous.”

“You know, it’s not like you to state the obvious.” 

“It’s not like you to be so anxious.” He retorts. “You are usually very confident in your debate abilities.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, a smirk blooming onto your lips. “But being nervous is a natural reaction. Especially when talking about competition.” 

“But don’t you agree that confidence is a more helpful emotion?” He responds, eyeing the smart style you have slicked your hair into. “Empirical evidence supports that people achieve more when they are of competent mind, instead of pushing themselves down.” 

You take a step forward into his space, your shoulders back. “True. However, a study recently conducted in Switzerland concluded that when an individual person is nervous, or feels anxiety, they tend to work harder towards their goal, as their brain specifically prioritizes that achievement rather than any other.”

He hums thoughtfully, also taking a step forward. “Is that so? Wouldn’t more anxiety hinder that ability to do well? Some people succumb to the state of nervousness. Students procrastinate all the time in fear of not doing well, so they don’t end up actually starting.”

Your hands swing lower, till clasped together as you inch forward even more, his angled face only a few breaths from yours. His eye-line makes a triangle shape across your features, going from your left pupil, to your full lips, and then your right. 

“Maybe so, if you are specifically talking about education.” Your voice drops a little lower, falling into a bubble with him. “But in competition, especially group sports like debate, there is an added social pressure. Competitors are not only nervous about their own preparedness, but how that preparedness might affect their team, a team that relies on them. Those anxieties grouped together enhance an individual's motivation to do well.”

Kyoya’s heart drummed a little faster in his chest. Here you were, standing in front of him in a very flattering suit, the color striking against your skin tone. Your words were concise, your tone was steady, and your touch had already been drawing him closer into you. His throat had gone dry at your smart demeanor, your intellect shining in the reflection of his spectacles. 

He needed to pull himself together. 

But he indulged a little more, pulling one of his hands away from yours to grasp your chin in his fingers, tugging your temptations into his hold. “I yield.” He murmured. 

Before your lips could connect, however, another student from the opposing debate team jostled his shoulder. You steadied him as the student grumbled under his breath. “Get a room. Fucking horny high schoolers.” 

Kyoya glared daggers at the man, already calculating the next strike to his reputation before he heard your laughter. He felt you pry his fingers off of you, and he turned to see you smiling curiously at him, the sharp edges of his gaze already softening. 

“Kissing in public?” You tease, placing a small peck on the inside of his palm. “Being late has made you so scrambled.”

Scoffing, he turns your head to the side. Favoring a far more appropriate kiss on the cheek, he responds in your ear. “You’re right, what was I thinking? You have to win to earn it.”

A gasping breath rushes through your lungs. “So not only am I competing in the finals for my debate team, I’m also competing for my boyfriend’s affection.” You narrow your gaze. “You're cruel.” 

He smirks, and now it’s your turn to feel a skipped heartbeat. “So I’ve been told.” 

But you hum, leaning closer. “If I don’t deserve a kiss from my boyfriend, I guess you don’t deserve the present I made for you.”

A black eyebrow raises. “You have a gift for me? Isn’t it my place to get you a gift before your critical night?”

“Yes, and I’m fully expecting whatever incredibly thoughtful gift you’ve managed to hide from me up until this point. Because I know you got me something to commemorate this day.” Turning, you move to your backpack, shuffling through it. “But I made this in Wood Shop. Just to clear my head before tonight.” 

Pulling the wrapped object out of your bag, you hand it to him, beaming proudly at him. Gently, he takes it from you, immediately trying to guess what it was from the weight and size of the box. 

“I’ve been trying woodcarving more often than actual carpentry.” You explain as his pianist fingers unwrap the present. “I wanted you to have my first successful product.”

God, he was almost disgusted at how bright his heart was glowing, how much lighter it became at your words. Swallowing, he pulled a nearly black object out of the decorative box, his lips parting at the sight. 

A carved rose laid elegantly between his fingers. The detail was impeccable, the petals imitating something delicate even if it was created from something so solid. The flower was heavy in his grasp, but with its weight came an accurate beauty. He hadn’t really studied the skill it would take to create something like this, but he planned to do some extensive research when he was able. 

Still, he knew it took an intense study on angles, and an assured hand to make cuts in the right places. Kyoya also realized the time, the focus, and the determination that someone must have to make something as perfect as this. To see an image in the wood and reveal it to the world. 

The Ootori son gently began to put the rose back into the box. 

Your lip worried between your teeth. “It’s made out of Gaboon ebony, which is the darkest wood available in nature. I know you have a very specific color scheme for your spaces, so I thought that would fit perfectly as a desk decoration.”

Kyoya met your gaze, placing the lid on the giftbox.

Shrugging, you shifted, wondering why a man of many words had gone silent. “And I don’t know why, but I thought a rose would be a good image. It’s romantic, sure, but…I don’t know, they have a grace to them that matches yours. In my eyes, at least.” You say.

A finger pushes up his lens as he steps towards you, placing the box slowly onto the same spare table you had set your book. 

His cologne washes over you as he does, and you swallow. “Do you not like it? I could make you something else, maybe something a little sharper. A rose might’ve been too feminine–”

Your doubt is halted as Kyoya surges forward, both of his skilled hands framing your face as he pulls your mouth to his. Surprise sounds against where your lips meet before it dissolves into a wanting breath, tilting your head a little more to absorb as much of his spontaneity as you can. 

It’s a closed kiss, but you both fit together like a puzzle piece, and you feel every unspoken emotion between you as he holds you to him, your own arms slipping to his waist. 

When he breaks apart, you’re blushing deeply, eyes scattering to see if anyone saw the public display of affection, but the crowd was too busy with their own conversations of boosting morale and good luck.

You came back to the moment, taking a breath as you clasp your hands behind his back. “What was that for?” 

His own voice was breathless, but the dazed look in his eyes sharpened, and his kissed lips smirked back at you. “You earned it.” 

And even if your many talents and expositions busied his schedule, the smile that grew on your face and the way he had to gently shove you away before you stole another kiss made it worth it. 

.oOo.

Hikaru’s Reader:

Kickboxing

Nail Tech

Sewing

“I’m gonna kill ‘em.” 

“No, baby. You can’t do that.” 

“No, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna kill ‘em.” 

You sigh, holding a piece of gauze to your right cheek, and your other hand holds an ice pack to the back of your head. The swelling hadn’t gone down, so the skin was plump and red as you watched Hikaru pace the empty locker room. He ran his hands through his ginger locks, pivoting on his heel as he fumes. 

Your costume fluttered around you. Since you made your own regalia, you had gone with a gold look this time. A spandex material grabbed against your muscled, shining in the metallic color, with stylish cut outs where you felt really emphasized your figure. Your hair had subtle gold streaks through it, but you were most proud of the cape you had draped over your shoulders. 

It was embellished with a gold trim and heavy velvet fabric, something you wore before you entered the ring. It was luxurious, elegant, and it matched the same color in Hikaru’s eyes, already making you love it even more. 

Hikaru made sure to find a pair of boxing gloves that matched, and he even offered to do your makeup before your match. He swiped gold eyeshadow over your (e/c) pools, and yellow gems traced under your waterline. 

He had pretended to not be able to look at you, saying that you shine too brightly and he couldn’t stand your beauty any more. 

Now, with these scratches and minor swellings, he wouldn’t look at you. Not in your sparkling eyes, at least. Only at the scratches. 

“Hikaru. Kyoya would kill you if you murdered someone. You’d have to go to prison, leaving him down one Brotherly Love package.”

He puts his hands on his hips, pulling his lips between his teeth. “No, I don’t care. Kaoru will figure something out.”

He pauses when the referee of your most recent kickboxing match walks through the door. The ref clicks the door behind him, making eye contact with you as he makes his way towards you, the actual competitor. 

But someone else wanted to step into the ring. A blur of orange stepped into the ref’s path, ginger clashing with black and white. “You’re gonna do something about that, right?”

The ref sighed, putting his hands up in a surrender move. “Sir, there isn’t much we can do–”

“No, shut up. You’re gonna fucking do something, right?” Hikaru gestures wildly, his eyes wild as he gets into the referee’s space. His arms direct over to you, his golden eyes scanning over your injuries for the millionth time. “Look at the love of my life. Look at them. I mean, something has to be illegal here, right? Those hits, they weren’t–, I mean, they were unconscious and they kept going!”

“Hikaru, please.” You say, bringing the gauze to another cut right above your eyebrow, chuckling a little bit. “Let the man speak. Maybe to the actual competitor. ”

Huffing, Hikaru turns to you, eyes fierce. But that fire melts into a warm sunlight as he realizes the fact that your hands are full trying to stop the bleeding and the swelling on your own. Exasperated, it takes two strides for him to be by your side.

“What’re you doing? Trying to do this yourself…” He criticizes, but you know there isn’t any fire behind it. Taking the ice pack, he grumbles, glaring daggers at the referee that moves to sit across one of the benches in the locker room. Hikaru holds the ice pack to your face, his other hand rubbing up and down your back softly. 

The ref’s eyes look over the pair of you, sighing deeply. You rolled your eyes as the referee shuffled on the bench, looking guiltier by the second. 

“I know I should’ve stopped them.” He admitted. “I hadn’t realized you were down for the count.”

You shift the gauze against your cheek. “Just be glad it didn’t result in anything more than a few scratches. But you should’ve been paying attention.”

Hikaru opens his mouth, but you shake your head. The referee nodded his head before hanging it. 

“I know.” He spoke, clasping his hands in front of him. “You are usually such a good competitor, (Y/n), I thought you were going to get back up.”

Hikaru scoffed. “Are you pinning this on them?” He growled as he gripped the ice pack tighter. “That they should’ve been a better fighter so they didn’t get K.O.’d?”

“Hikaru–” You warn, but your boyfriend was nothing if he wasn’t stubborn, his fierceness burning under the surface. 

“Of course not!” The referee stuttered. “I was only trying to explain–”

“Yeah, well, all I hear are excuses.” Hikaru bites, the arm on your back becoming tighter around your shoulders. “Get your boss in here. I want to speak to them.”

The man across from you gulped. “Are we sure that’s necessary?”

The Hitachiian twin’s teeth must’ve been razor sharp the way he barred them at the ref. “One hundred percent. I have no idea how ref’s like you get hired anyway, but I want to see who was dumb enough to actually sign the paper.”

“Baby, that’s enough.” You were scowling, but on the inside you couldn’t help but laugh at the way the ref’s face morphed from horror to the acceptance of his fate. 

“Of course, sir.” Sighing, the referee offers one last apology before scratching the back of his head, the locker room door swinging behind his exeunt. 

Hikaru was still muttering to himself as he brushed your hair out of your face, the strands wet with the sweat on your forehead. “Fucking people, don’t know how to do their jobs…”

“Hikaru…” Your voice is gentle as you pull the ice pack and gauze away from your face, your attractive features finally looking a little more normal. Your hand frames his cheek, and the anger in his eyes completely goes away. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I know that.” He frowns, the rasp in his voice carrying a sigh. But you could tell his eyes were still scanning your skin, making sure there weren't any other injuries that he missed. “And you’re tougher than you look.” 

“Exactly.” A proud smirk plays on your lips. 

“Plus,” That smirk that both annoys you and warms you rises to his mouth. “You’ve got a pretty thick skull. I think you could take a few more hits before it becomes a problem.”

Scoffing, you push him away. “I’m gonna hit you if you don’t shut up.” 

“I think I wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh really?” You wrap your arm around him, bringing him closer. “You’re a freak.”

“You’re a tease.” His canines sparkle when he smiles, and it’s all you can do to make the kiss you two share as short as possible. Otherwise, the way he gently cradles your face, or how his lips move against yours would pull you in forever. 

A door swinging open interrupted your bliss anyway, and you two jumped apart. Hikaru groaned softly, a small blush coming onto his scowling cheeks. 

A woman in a fine pressed suit walked across the tile, her heels echoing within the locker room. You recognized her as the manager of the ring in which you’ve had most of your kickboxing matches, and you rose to meet her. 

“(Y/n).” 

Clutching her hand, you shake it gently, aware of your sore shoulder. “Nice to see you again.” 

Hikaru just folds his arms in the background, standing at your side. The manager gives a sidelong glance before giving you a business smile. 

“I wanted to personally apologize for the oversight our referee had during your match tonight.” She says, her lip gloss catching the fluorescent lights above. “You are one of our most beloved fighters, the audience loves you and your unique costumes and looks.”

In her handshake, the manager felt the smooth texture on your fingernails, and turned your hand over in hers. “Your vibrant, fearless creativity inspires many people in our kickboxing world, even if you are a little unorthodox.”

Your nails are painted with a metallic background, and when she presses your fingernails together, they create a picture of an intricate, swirling gold dragon across your nail beds. It was beautiful, it was detailed, and it had been incredibly time consuming. 

You kept your nails short, and the art was absolutely covered by your kickboxing gloves, but it made you feel powerful knowing that you creation was there, even if you were the one of two who knew it. 

The manager's dark eyes slid to your boyfriend who had crossed his arms, still glaring daggers at the lady. She just smiled, her gaze dropping to where his hands were visible in the crevice of his elbow. 

“And it seems you have a supportive partner, as well.” She comments, causing both of your eyebrows to crease before you realize what she is talking about. Hikaru flared out his own hands, and how you had done a small but still detailed nail piece on his own hands. His fingers matched yours in color and style, but instead of having the dragon across all five of his fingers, there was a baby one swirling on his thumbs and ring fingers. 

He huffs, a smirk coming to his lips as he looks at your art for the millionth time today. “Yeah, they’re pretty incredible.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” The manager nods, a sweet smile on her lips. “Both in the ring and out of it, you are definitely a prize. Which is why we’d like to give you one.”

“You want to give me a prize?” You ask, a little surprise leaking into your voice. “For losing?”

The manager hums. “More for winning over the crowd, or for keeping this little instance between us. No one was seriously injured, and–”

“How about I give you the same bruises that competitor gave my partner, and then we’ll see what you think counts as ‘seriously injured’.” Hikaru growls, cracking his knuckles. He steps forward, but you stop him with your arm. 

“Threatening them won’t do anything.” You sigh, but your mouth turns into a scowl. “But I’m not taking your ‘hush’ money.” 

“Well,” The manager scoffs, her calm facade cracking slightly. “We must do something. If you are to continue to fight here, then all of us have to–”

“They aren’t gonna fight here anymore, then.” Hikaru’s voice cuts through the manager’s pompous assumptions, and he grabs your hand, gently moving you around her straight posture. 

Her heels clack as she follows you in earnest. “Wait, you can’t speak for them.”

But as you follow behind your boyfriend, a man who is angry for your safety and your honor, you spin around, smirking through your scratches as you give them the middle finger. “You’re right, he can’t. But, even if it’s rare, he’s right. I’m out of here.”

Her slick ponytail is fraying. “But, you can’t! You have a contract!”

Hikaru mirrors your actions, and now you both are flipping her off as you back out of the locker room, your glorious cape draped across his arm. 

“I’ll pay whatever it takes to break ‘em out of it,” He says, his smirk growing. “And for you to leave them alone.”

Then, you both do a lazy salute as you finally step out of that locker room, out of that situation. 

Laughing, Hikaru stops his walking, causing you to stumble into him. He catches you, and you both break out into a fit, holding onto each other as you walk to his car. 

Easily, he presses you up against the passenger side, using a finger to push a piece of gold-painted hair back into place. His other hand comes to gently cup the other side of your face, his thumb lightly tracing a scratch on your cheekbone. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” He says, his scratchy voice vibrating into the setting sky. “Gotta get you bandaged up, baby.” 

.oOo.

Kaoru’s Reader:

Sketching

Baseball

Writing

“You know,” Kaoru said, pins between his teeth as he took them out of the bodice of your outfit one by one. “Everytime we do this, I still get distracted by you. Everytime.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes even as a blush comes to your cheeks. “You’re an even worse flirt than Tamaki.”

A groan sounds behind you as you feel hands pry the bodice off of your torso. “Don’t talk about the Boss when I am literally undressing you.”

Cool, conditioned air rushes across your newly bare skin as Kaoru throws the garment across the car seat, the leather sticking to your back as you lean into it. Arching your hips, you tug the bottom of your dress pants off, making sure the divider was up between you and your boyfriend’s family driver. 

“You sure he can’t see us?” You ask, wiggling out of your underwear. 

Kaoru sets the pins into his cushion, smiling. “Per usual, no.” Then the redhead turns, his smirk revealing a sharp canine. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing?”

“Kaoru!” 

He cackles, but he can’t help his eyes when they drag over your bare form. Yes, changing clothes in his car was a normal thing due to your busy schedule with your many hobbies, but he never got tired of having you naked in his backseat. 

He tsks. “Are you sure we don’t have time to–”

The pants you had been wearing flew into his face. “No!” You sounded a laugh as he pulled the garment off his head, and you chuckled at the way his red hair fluffed when he did. 

His pale hand reaches down and grabs the duffel bag, packing the black tie outfit you wore to your art show into it and pulling out your team uniform. You pulled on the right undergarments that would support you sliding across the dirt in a baseball diamond, and caught your jersey when Kaoru threw it at you from across the car seat. 

“Going from riches to rags.” He says, arranging your cleats next to you with the appropriate socks. 

“You literally made these uniforms, babe.” You say, deadpanning as you squeeze yourself into the form-fitting bottoms. 

“I know that.” He says, eyeing the way your toned body fills the sporty look nicely. “But I much prefer the elegant attire that I pinned you into earlier.” 

“Oh, I forgot to mention.” You add, distracted as you put the baseball cap on your head, your team logo facing out towards the front seat. “Everyone loved what I was wearing.”

His lips quirked to one side. “Well, duh.”

“Expectedly so.” You tighten your belt around your waist. “But this afternoon’s outfit was…well it was just really spectacular.” Your smile reflects against the city lights. 

Now dressed in the full baseball regalia, you lean over to your own personal fashionista, putting a finger under his chin. 

“I’m really lucky to have Japan’s second best fashion designer as my quick-change roadie.” 

Any sweetness in Kaoru's eyes vanishes, and a second after your lips are a breath away, he is pushing you to the other end of the backseat. “Oh yeah? Then someone else can get you dressed for your book reading tomorrow.” 

You gasp. “Oh no. Whatever will I do without the expert way you zip a zipper?” 

The Hitachiuan twin feigned offense. “That’s what I majored in.” 

“And what about your knowledge on what colors I look best in? I’ll be so washed out.” 

He crosses his arms, still looking at you with a smug simper. “You’ll just have to figure it out.” 

Shrugging, you cross your legs, your cleats knocking against each other. “I guess I’ll just have to find someone else to undress me in the backseat of their family’s car.” 

A hum sounds to the other side of you, like honey being poured into tea. “Now that’s something I know no one can do better than I can.” 

Two manicured hands are suddenly around your waist, and you are dragged across leather. The soft material of your pants are seated into Kaoru’s lap, while, like instinct, your arms wrap around his neck. 

“I think we can finally agree on something.” You concede, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. The city rushes by outside of the limo’s glass, but time stands still when your lips touch. A pleased sound resonates in the back of his throat when you nip at his bottom lip, and you feel him smile into the kiss.  

Pulling away, you share another longing moment before you groan, your head resting into the crook of his neck. 

“Are you sure the art show went well?” You ask, hiding your insecurity as you bury your nose into Kaoru’s cologne. 

Chuckling, you feel his hands casually lock around your hip. His cheek comes to rest on the top of your head, the two of you squished to one side of the seat. “I’m sure. You’re talented, you know that.”

“I do, but I’ve just been so distracted with everything that I have going on.” You can hear his pulse inside his throat, encouraging you to open up a little more. “I balance so much that it feels hard to put 100 percent of my effort into everything I do. I feel like I’m half-assing it.”

“(Y/n), babe.” He brings your face away so that you can look at him clearly. The driver makes a right turn, the force pushing the two of you closer together. “Sketching, sports, writing. All of these things are your life. You’re allowed to put your energy into multiple outlets at once, as long as it’s not draining you.” 

“I don’t think it is.” And he knew that. He knew that even if you seemed tired after a hard day in the studio, or maybe a tough day at practice, the smile on your face was genuine. You always put everything you had into everything you did, and that was just one of the things he adored about you. 

“My partner is an all star, author, and an artist.” Kaoru says, a proud glint in his golden eyes. “And you know what? Because of that, I’m never bored.” 

“Thank god for that. It ceases your regularly-scheduled destruction.” You say, a finger twirling into his ginger strands. “Although Hikaru probably misses his partner in crime.” 

Kaoru just shrugs. “Hikaru has always been able to create his own chaos, he’ll be fine.” 

“So, if you have this much confidence in me, then you must think my first book reading tomorrow is going to go well too, right?” 

“I couldn’t be more sure. I was able to read the whole thing, and I don’t think I’ve been able to finish a fiction book in my life.” The twin admits, and you smirk. 

“Well, that’s obvious.” 

His golden irises roll. “Very funny.” 

“Then, what about this game?” You ask, looking out the window to see the baseball stadium peek out from the horizon. You still had a ways to go. “Think I’m gonna win?”

There was silence. You got lost in the city’s sparkling skyline a little longer before your gaze snapped down to your boyfriend’s, just to see him avoiding your gaze. 

“Kaoru?” 

“Huh? What?” He says, and he runs a hand over your jawline. “Wow, babe, you’re so beautiful.” 

Scoffing, you lean away from him. “You don’t think we’re gonna win?” 

“I didn’t say that!” 

“Kaoru, you only have so many thoughts that can fit into the pea-sized brain of yours.” You say, laughing. “You should not be wasting that space doubting me.”

“I will never doubt you.” He says, grabbing your hand that began to poke at his forehead to see if you could hear an echo. 

“I will, however,” the Hitachiian brother raises your hand to his lips, “realize that while you are immensely talented, baseball is a team effort.”

You give him a blank look. “And my team sucks.” 

He kisses your hand. “They suck so bad.” 

And you're laughing. A few seconds ago, you were drowning into your anxiety, but Kaoru made you feel light enough to float above them all. Balancing multiple things at once was hard work, but having a man like him at your side made it easier. 

Your laughter dies down, and there’s an extra spark in Kaoru’s eye that paired well with the city lights reflected in his pupils. 

You hit his chest, even as he snakes kisses up your shoulder and onto your neck. “Kaoru, we can’t.” 

“The stadium is still a ways away. We have time.” 

Your skin tingles under his touch, and you sigh. “Kaoru…” You weakly try to push him away, but he holds onto your hips. 

“(Y/n)…” 

Huffing out a breath, you take off your baseball cap so you can properly kiss him without it bumping into Kaoru’s forehead. “Fine, but we have to be quick.” 

His laughter rings out as he pulls you into his chest, and you are already second-guessing his intentions on making it quick as he draws his tongue slowly up your throat. 

It’s a good thing the divider was up. 

.oOo.

Mori’s Reader

Fencing

Yoga

Poetry

Swords clashed, the metal twinge sounding against the Hinoki cypress that covered the dojo’s walls. And each time you and your opponents’ swords would cross, your heart would pound in sync, both beats echoing with your efforts. 

Thirteen touches. Your opponent had scored thirteen touches against you within this bout, and you were determined to not let him get the last two he needed to win. Lunging, your sabre jabs across the piste with a grunt from your lips, only to have it wacked away immediately by your competitor. 

You clench your jaw as you ward off one of his own jabs, trying to see through the mesh of your fencing mask. The long torso of the man across from you twists, leaning to the right. But once you move to block it, he swerves, turning to the left and touching you in the ribs. 

Huffing, you rip off your mask, your hair fluffing out once freed of the hard shell. “You’re kidding me.” 

Mori easily slides off his own helmet, letting the smug grin on his face widen at the sight of your exasperation. His black hair fell slightly in front of his face before he pushed it out of the way, a few drops of sweat beginning to bead on the edge of his jawline. 

Grumbling, you point your saber half-heartedly at him. “I’ve been fencing my whole life and you only started a couple months ago. How are you so good at this?”

He shrugged his shoulders in a way that was so irritatingly handsome, you had to force your head back into your mask. 

“Again.” You demand. 

With one hand, Mori effortlessly readjusts his own gear, and you both fall back into a fighting stance. 

Your boyfriend had always been good at things without ever trying too hard. It seems he had an eerily accurate way of breaking any sport, art form, or hobby down to its basics, and extorting it in front of his opponents. Easily, he analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of any obstacle he was put up against, and bent them to his advantage. 

He was smart, analytical, and having way too much fun watching you become frustrated as he brought you both to match point. You could tell by the way he stood, slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet to keep himself agile, his martial arts training coming in handy. He held his sword out with one arm, and the other bent at his back, but his shoulders were dropped low, a casual stance as he became more confident in his victory. 

Growling, you lunged first, starting your combat again. You were aggressive, and you took pleasure in seeing his shoulders rise as he took a defensive position against your attacks. Arms burning, you swiped and slashed at his white suit, all of your fencing training becoming honed into this very moment. You were sure a soundtrack could be made to emphasize the way you moved forward, forcing him to step back and block any chaotic jabs and swipes that you threw his way. 

You heard him gasp as his foot dropped off the piste, and his tall body tripped, falling backwards as you stood over him, the vertex of your sabre denting the clothing on his chest. 

His chest heaved with the effort, and you crouched, once again pulling off your headwear. “That’s more like it.”

You pulled off his mask as well, this time leaving the thick strands that fell into his brown eyes. His confident smirk had been replaced with a slight scowl. Stepping in between his legs, you met his eye level. 

“Fourteen to fourteen.” You bragged, letting your sword rest on your shoulder. “Now, we’re tied. Again.” 

A displeased grunt came from the stoic's mouth. 

“This little competition of ours has been fun.” You say, molding your voice to sound bored as you exhale, standing up and putting out a hand for him. “But it looks like I will emerge victorious.”

Your boyfriend’s visage fell blank, and he rolled his eyes before grabbing your hand and lifting himself up, towering over you as he folds his arms around your waist. 

Bending like a branch in the wind, Mori tightens his hold as he presses you into his chest. One of his hands came to cup your face, forcing your gaze to focus on the small beads of sweat dancing across his skin. “We’ll see.”

Then he kisses your cheek, turns you around, and pushes you back to your end of the piste. Refusing to wipe the smirk off your face, you reset, readying your sabre with new confidence. 

This time, you both take the offensive, aggressively sparring as your blades crash together in hurried movements. He blocks your jabs, and you leap over his attempts to sweep you off your feet, ignoring the legality of your movements. Sweat begins to gleam on your forehead under your mask, but your smile only grows. 

As he takes another step to jab at your shoulder, you lean to the side, effectively dodging his attack to see that he has left himself wide open. Victory fuels your heartbeat as you lunge, even going as far as letting out a confident hah! as you aim the point towards the side of his ribcage. 

Suddenly, Mori turned on his heel. With incredible speed, he swipes your sabre away as if he knew exactly where it was going to strike. He grunts as he pushes you back, both you and your sabre stumbling to the floor with his strength, and all you can do is sit there empty-handed as he juts the end of his sword right above your heart. 

Huffing, you fall, letting your back hit the piste with a disgruntled groan. You hear a dark chuckle as steps move towards your fallen body.

“That’s fifteen.” Mori confirms as he stands over you, his already-tall form looking enormous from your position on the ground. 

“Yes, I can count, thank you.” You grumble, ripping off your mask for the last time. 

He puts pressure on the point where his own sword pinpoints your skin, your heart fluttering for different reasons when he reveals his face. Flushed, disheveled, and confident in his win. 

The way his lips slightly lifted on either side, the way his dark chocolate eyes glimmered over your exhausted form. You wanted to kiss that smug look off his face. 

But you wanted to win more. 

Batting the sword away, he reaches out a hand to help you up, pulling you to your feet. The Ouran Highschool Gym bustles with students. Some engage in kendo matches that Mori observes silently, most likely learning from other’s mistakes. 

Picking your sabre up from the aftermath of your loss, you gently raise the end under his chin, quirking an eyebrow as he tenses and focuses his gaze back on you. 

“Your opponent is in front of you, Takashi. Shouldn’t you be paying attention?”

His gaze melted into something smooth and dark. “The game is over.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of his victory. 

“Far from it.” The end of your blade dips gently into his skin for a second before you flick it away, nudging his chin softly. Turning from him, you call over your shoulder. “On to the next event!” 

After changing out of your fencing attire, you’re sat across from him, a(n) (f/c) yoga mat splayed out below you as he sits atop a dark blue one. Given the charged looks he gave you before you entered a dressing room, you knew that it was game on. Both of your competitive spirits had been stoked, and you only had more motivation to kick that – admittedly very nice – ass of his. 

Taking a deep breath, you let the air in the gym still around you. Yoga was another one of your hobbies that you enjoyed because it gave you a chance to center yourself in the midst of chaos a certain club instilled within your life. You had picked it up when you started high school, and even your teacher said you were a natural, as you were able to really embody the purpose and true zen of yoga. 

Flicking your eyes towards your boyfriend, you find that he is already looking back at you, patiently waiting for your instructions on the next round of your spontaneous competition. His eyes are warm, the smallest of smiles on his lips as they track your figure, watching as you find peace in your posture. 

Shaking your head affectionately, you rock on your hips, nudging him gently with your arm. “Stop staring and listen up. I’m gonna choose a pose, and whoever holds it the longest wins.” 

Mori gives you a suspicious, playful glare. “But you’ll choose something that you’re good at. That I can’t hold.” 

You smile, sickeningly sweet, and Mori rolls his eyes. “Fine.” 

“Great!” Your grin only grows as you call out the position: Vrschikasana, or the Scorpion. Mori’s eyes flash in recognition, remembering the weeks you spent perfecting it while he trained in his dojo, and the knots he had to massage out of you afterwards. 

You narrow your eyes, planting your palms on your mat. “Unless you want to give up?”

His dark gaze hardened before something fierce ignited in his visage. “No. It’s fine.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off the gym’s expensive walls – honestly, it really over the top for a physical center. Shifting your weight onto your hands, Mori follows your movements as you both lift into a handstand before arching your back, pointing your toes as they bend to touch the top of your head. 

God, you loved the burn through your hamstrings, the strength of your muscles holding yourself up, seemingly weightless off the ground. You sucked in a breath, allowing your lungs to open up, your throat to loosen, and let yourself just breathe. 

“You’re smiling.” A strangled voice drenched in disbelief observes next you, and you turn your head carefully so as to not knock your balance. 

The chuckle that runs through you nearly does, though. 

You catch yourself as you watch Mori’s arms start to shake, his breathing a little haphazard as he puts as much effort into the stretch as he can. You also watch as his muscles flex, his shirt discarded in order to cool off from your fencing tournament, eyes traveling as the lines flinch and twitch with the commitment to keep himself off the ground.  

Mori was a strong guy. Defined, agile, and built with pounds of lean muscle. But yoga took a different kind of strength. It was a test of endurance and balance, a mental strength that knew no limits. 

There was a reason you and Mori worked so well together. 

About ten seconds from your record time holding this position, Mori topples, his legs falling over his head as he somersaults, landing with his back flat against the mat. 

You chuckle, half concerned for his health from the fall, half gloating for your win. Easily coming back down to the ground, your breath heaves a little as you try to catch your breath. 

“You okay, Takashi?” You ask, it being your turn to stand over him, smirking in victory.

He just grunts, giving you a bored look. 

“Crybaby.” You say, sitting next to him. 

“Show off.” He retorts, warmth in his eyes. 

You laugh again, the rare insult leaving the exhausted stoic’s mouth. “Wanna do one more round?”

Mori’s eyes search yours for a second before nodding. “But I get to pick.”

“Sure, that seems fair.” You say, peeling back the hair on his forehead. “Go for it.”

He gets that thoughtful look in is gaze, a glint that taught you to wait patiently by his side in silence until he was comfortable to speak. 

“Poetry.”

A surprised scoff left your mouth before you could stop it. Quickly, you cover your mouth, shaking your head. “Sorry, sorry. It just…that’s not a test of strength.” You say, laughing a little. As much as you loved poetry, reading and writing it, it seemed a little out of left field. 

Mori shrugged his shoulders, still laid out on the floor. “Emotional strength.” He said, smart eyes smiling up at you softly.

And how could you argue with that? 

Ten minutes later, sweatpants and pump covers are thrown back on your bodies as you both sit in a small corner of the gym, legs tangled as you lean against opposing walls. Notebooks in hand, your pens fly across the page, the scribbling sounds comforting as you each get lost in your own thoughts. 

When it comes time to present, you go first. When Mori realizes you wrote yours about him, about how strong he was, and how safe he made you feel, it makes his tired, sore body slump against his side of the wall. His hand reaches out for yours, listening intently to your words. 

His poem had a smaller word count, but the vocabulary was moving, and you laughed gently when you realized he wrote his about you. About how strong you were, and how safe you made him feel. And he held your hand the entire time he read it to you.

Let’s just say your game ended in a tie.

.oOo.

not proofread, but i enjoyed writing it!

hope you all have a great day. just give me some time to get back into the groove of things. writing is my escape, and i truly do love it. just need to find the energy :) love you <3

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four Five

What the fuck are you even so happy about? You fucked it up. Jesus you both fucked it up. I didn’t even know something like that could happen.

Eddie smiles at his bedroom ceiling in the dim light, “it was amazing.”

You hugged. Congratulations, you hugged a boy. Eddie can feel Billy roll his eyes.

“You don’t get it.”

There’s nothing to get, because nothing actually happened. Because somehow you both fucked up something as simple as kissing.

Eddie laughs, “you mad Billy? Mad you didn’t get to make out with Harrington?”

Fuck off. I don’t give a shit.

“Uh hu,” Billy is finally quiet. He leaves Eddie alone, lets him grin up at the clean ceiling from his clean new bed, in the room Steve set up for him. Filled with the things Steve went out of his way to save from the old trailer. There’s no beeping here, no hospital smells, he’s warm and comfortable and he’s full of Steve’s casserole and mashed potatoes.

The scent of Steve’s aftershave lingering in his nose, on his cheek.

They were going to kiss, Eddie’s pretty sure they were. They were both so close, heads tilted and eyes wide, but someone twitched wrong, something happened, both of them simultaneously sublimating whatever it was they were doing into a hug instead. Steve’s arms wrapped carefully around Eddie’s middle, conscious of the still healing wounds, his face tucked carefully against Eddie’s neck, ‘never done anything with a guy before.’ The whispered confession from Steve Harrington, the soft lips and sharp stubble against Eddie’s neck.

A confession that means he was going to do something with a guy. Or at least was interested in doing something with a guy, and that guy was, presumably, Eddie.

An incredible turn of events, really.

‘Never done anything with anyone,’ Eddie had whispered back, earning himself a snort of a laugh. God natured though. Happy.

‘We can go slow.’

And Steve had left with a big sappy smile and a dorky little finger tip wave and a promise they would hang out tomorrow.

Eddie sighs. Then grabs a pillow so he can scream into it. And then he’s kind of just grinning, laughing a little, he’s just so fucking happy.

Jesus christ, you fuck ups are actually made for each other.

“I hope so.”

What is this we’re doing now.

Eddie ignores him, sets up his DM shield, his books, his dice. Unpacks his pencils, his notes. Eddie always plays it fast and loose, he’s got a vague plan sure. As long as he knows the plan and the motivations of the bad guys, everything else falls into place pretty easily.

So this is the nerd thing you’ve been planning for.

He wants this one to be good; first game with Will the Wise present, after all. Steve’s in the kitchen, left Eddie to set up the finishing touches. They’re going to hang out and watch a movie once all the kids have gone, and Eddie’s pretty sure he couldn’t have planned a more perfect day if he tried. Steve’s even making them snacks. He’s done something to the dining room table to make it even bigger, unfolding some extra hidden bit of wood to make it longer; wild rich people shit.

The bell tolls; the kids are at the door, and Eddie can’t suppress his joy at having all the kids here together, everyone alive and well. Well, except for Max, which is shitty, but all the kids are going to go and visit her after this, so that’ll be nice for her.

He wants to prance to the front door, leap and skip and play he’s so buzzing with excitement for this, but one single hop is enough for his body to remind him, pretty sharply, that he is absolutely not ready for that sort of nonsense just yet, so he walks instead.

Jesus christ, this kid is a straight up savage.

Lady Applejack stares Eddie down over his DM shield.

Could have done with her against the Mindflayer.

“I’m going to attack.”

Of course she is.

Eddie claps joyously, “everyone roll for initiative.”

Eddie’s standing now, can’t possibly just sit with all this going on, “and that is a hit, his mighty war hammer crashing into your armor with a resounding smack, for one D10 of damage…”

“Dustin,” Mike hisses, “how much health do you even have?”

Dustin shakes his head, worried, but doesn’t answer. Lucas is hanging onto Dustin's shoulder, looking down at Dustin’s character sheet. Eddie’s dice clatters on the table behind the DM shield, Lucas signals ‘five’ to will with his fingers.

The whole table collectively holds it’s breath as Eddie watches his die roll and settle on a nine. “It’s a glancing blow! Your armor must absorb some of the hit as you take four points of damage!”

Eddie, no, don’t lie. Kill the little shit-you're too soft on them.

Will immediately starts on his turn, so excited, “I cast Cure Light Wounds!”

Of course he does.

Why is this taking them so long?

The most simplistic puzzles are the best.

Literally all the have to do is match the colors. I can’t believe how dumb they are.

Eddie does his best to hold in the snort. Doesn’t quite succeed and earns a scathing look from Erica. Yep. They are over thinking it a little.

This is so frustrating, how can you even sit through this.

Watching them struggle is the fun. They’ll get it in a minute.

We’re going to grow old and die here.

They sit and listen to the kids argue a little longer, coming up with wilder and wilder theories on how to solve what is the simplest color match game Eddie could come up with.

Baldie is staring at us.

Don’t call her that, Eddie’s reply is reflexive, but Billy is right. El is watching them.

Eddie isn’t surprised when she lingers. Deliberately makes it so that she’s the last standing on the porch. The boys shot off on their bikes, but El, Mike and the ferocious Lady Applejack are hitching a ride with Nancy.

She waves to him through the wind shield, then turns, talking to Mike.

“Do you talk to him?”

No preamble. Just those big fucking eyes looking up at Eddie. Knowing. A little kid should not look like that.

“Yeah, all the time.” In his mind, Billy is still and quiet. Watching warily.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s still a massive dick, so, I guess so, yeah.”

“Does Max know?”

She cuts right to the heart of it, this kid, “she’s the only one who knows.”

She nods, “for now,” and then leaves, running to get in the car without a care in the world.

She’s terrifying.

I know, fucking great isn’t it?

Part seven

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 5

Hello! In this one we have things not getting off to the fun start Steve wanted, but Eddie and Steve show Robin the meditative joys of watching the weavers. And Mike and El get a lesson in when to give to friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Once they had all paid Steve gathered up the kids.

“You are to stay in pairs,” he admonished. “I don’t care if you swap every so often but stay in at least pairs. You can stay in great big group for all I care. But no one wanders off alone. If you want to do something and no one else does come find an adult, chances are that one of us six was already going to do it, okay?”

All the kids nodded.

“Everyone is to meet here at 1pm and 6pm for lunch and dinner,” Steve continued. “The adults are exempt but I tried to pick times where there wasn’t anything big going on. Food money was given to me by your parents so you’ll never starve. Drinking fountains are everywhere. Stay hydrated, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Will nodded. “I’ll make sure they do.”

Steve smiled. “Thanks, Will.” He held up his hand as they were getting into pairs. “One more thing. Your parents gave you money for loot. If you spend it all today and see something you want on Saturday, I will not buy it for you. Now I can’t stop anyone else from doing the same, but you need to watch your money.”

Eddie looked at the other Corroded Coffin boys who all nodded. “I think I can speak for us adults when I say. I ain’t paying for your shit either.”

All the kids turned to Robin like a lion sensing its prey.

“Don’t look at me,” she huffed holding up her hands in surrender. “I’m poor. I’m hoping that someone pretty will buy me pretty things so I don’t have to go without.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “Looks like you’ve been stemmed–stymied–” he frowned. “Looks like you’ve been thwarted all around.”

The kids grumbled but nodded.

Steve smiled. “Now go have fun! I promise, you’ll love it.”

Max and El grabbed each other’s hands and skipped ahead of the boys. Robin smiled.

“That’s the downside to growing up,” she sighed wistfully. “Is adults no longer think holding hands with your best friend is cute, only gay.”

Eddie nodded. “I just don’t care most of the time,” he said with a shrug.

Steve turned to the members of the band. “Are you guys going to be staying together for the most part or will you be splitting up? I just want to make sure I know where people are going to be.”

Gareth and Jeff shared an amused glance.

“What?” Steve asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“Eddie said you were such a mom friend,” Gareth explained, “but I didn’t believe it.”

“Yeah, man,” Jeff chuckled. “It’s cute.”

Steve crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down, scuffing the dirt with the toe of his boot.

Brian waved his hands. “It’s not bad. It’s just a surprise.”

Jeff cocked his head to side. “Maybe not that big of one after seeing how he handled Mike...”

Brian laughed. “Fair enough.”

Eddie walked over and lifted Steve’s chin up gently. “It’s sweet, Stevie. We aren’t mocking you for it, okay?”

Steve nodded.

Suddenly Robin coughed into her fist that sounded a little like ‘gay’.

Eddie and Steve almost leaped back from each other while their friends laughed.

“Laugh it up, fuzzball,” Eddie muttered as he stalked past his friends.

Steve just stood there as the rest of them followed Eddie in. All but Robin.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she mumbled. “I thought you two were cute, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. That’s the last thing I thought it would do.”

Steve just shrugged and then led the way into the Fair grounds. Robin’s eyes lit up as the sights, and sounds, and smells came at her all at once.

There were people in jeans and t-shirts but also people in various states of costume, ranging from beginner to professional. The period ranges were vast, too. From the early 14th century to the very, very beginning of the 20th.

Robin was in awe.

“Steeeeveeee,” she said, smacking his arm repeatedly. “This is amazing!”

Steve turned to her and smiled. “I told you.”

She hugged him around the neck. “You did and you were right. Those kids brains must have exploded on entry.”

He chuckled. “Well, thankfully I don’t see any brain goo anywhere, so I think they’re safe.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Fair enough.”

“Where do you want to go first?” Steve asked, taking a pamphlet from Fair worker that had all the events and times on it.

She peeked over his shoulder and hummed thoughtfully.

“There isn’t a lot going on today.”

Steve shrugged. “All the big events like the joust are going to be on Saturday when they have the biggest crowds. But there are still some fun things we can do.” He pointed to the events under that day. “We can watch the weavers or battle a knight.”

“You better not do that one,” she said with a grin.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Why? Because you think I’ll lose?”

She swatted his arm. “No, dingus, because you might accidentally pulverize the guy.”

Suddenly there was another arm being slung around Steve’s shoulders.

“I must concur with the lady pirate, mi’lord,” Eddie said cheerfully. “I’ve seen you fight, handsome. You’d accidentally kill the poor actor.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks.”

He looked around but he didn’t see the rest of Eddie’s merry band. “Where are your friends?”

Eddie sighed. “Already succumbed the siren lures of capitalism.”

Steve blinked at him a moment. “Huh?”

Eddie pointed a little further down the way where the market had been set up. “They’re at the sword stall.”

Steve’s mouth formed an O and he nodded. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that’s where the kids are, too.”

“That’s because there is nothing else to do,” Robin pointed out. “Not all of us want to watch people make clothes.”

Eddie’s lit up. “They’re already showing the weavers?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, you want to come with me?”

“Hell yeah!” he crowed. He grabbed Robin’s wrist. “You’ll love this.”

And he started dragging her to where the looms, Steve laughing, close behind.

They reached building it was housed in and Eddie stepped aside to allow her to see into the room.

It was brightly lit from them many windows in the room. There were different looms from different eras and different levels of expertise. There was even a cute little blonde girl barely older than Holly, Mike’s little sister in one corner with her starter loom, still making mistakes but being patiently guided by someone who looked to be her mom.

But the true center piece was this amazing Asian loom at the back. The weaver was in a kimono and face paint, but her hands danced along the loom making it seem like she had more than usual two.

Robin was smitten.

Eddie smiled back at her and then grabbed her wrist again to pull her into the room.

The little girl’s mother looked up and smiled at them. “Welcome!” she greeted warmly. “We, of the weavers guild, greet you. I am Goody Danvers. If you have any questions please direct them at me so our weavers aren’t disturbed.”

All three of them nodded and began to wander around. Robin was forced to admit that it was way more than just making clothes or even cloth. It was artistry and technique that was just beautiful to watch.

She was, of course, drawn to the Asian loom with its beautiful weaver.

Steve on the other hand went straight for Goody Danvers. He was asking her all sorts of questions and she just lit up with someone expressing genuine interest in the weaving.

Then Steve asked the question. “You thread is amazing. Do you spin it yourself?”

Goody Danvers face was like the sun with how happy that question made her. “We do! Do you guys want to see how we do it?”

Steve nodded enthusiastically while Robin was loathed to leave the beautiful weaver.

“You go ahead,” she murmured never taking her eyes off the scene the woman was weaving into her tapestry.

Steve’s shoulders slumped a little. But Eddie came skipping up to them. “Prick any princesses’ fingers lately?” he teased Goody Danvers.

She wagged her finger at him. “Do you be going around calling me a witch, I might get burned at the stake.”

Steve and Eddie laughed and mimed zipping their lips closed and throwing away the key.

She led them to the backroom where there were other women spinning. Steve figured these were the ones that didn’t like being watched because more than half of them stopped what they were doing the moment they walked in.

He smiled his best babysitter smile and waved like an absolute dork. One of the teenaged girls blushed and turned away.

Eddie frowned, putting his hands on his lower back. He was about to turn back around and rejoin Birdie when he felt a warm hand on his elbow. Steve wasn’t looking at the pretty red-head that blushed at his dorky wave, he was looking at him. Hazel eyes almost antique silver in the natural light.

“You okay?” Steve whispered.

Eddie nodded. “It’s just dustier in here than I thought it would be.”

Goody Danvers nodded. “No fire of any kind allowed in this room. A simple spark could cause a powder keg in here and I don’t feel like leveling the Fair this year.”

“What type of materials do you use for your thread?” Steve asked, his hand never leaving Eddie’s elbow.

And they just listened to her talk about the different types of threads and what they were used for and Eddie felt the warmth in Steve’s presence as he paid her his rapt attention.

Was that was he looked like when he talked about DnD or metal music? Because if it was Steve never looking away from him when talked suddenly made a lot of sense. It was addicting watching Steve engage with someone who shared his interests.

Steve looked down at his watch. “Shit. We’ve got to go meet some people for lunch. But thank you for taking your time to show me everything and answer all my questions.”

Good Danvers smiled. “The pleasure was all mine. It was nice to find a young man who was so interested in what I had to say.” She walked over to a basket.

“Here, pick out a bundle of thread you like as my treat.”

Steve really lit up then. “Thanks!” He went through the basket and picked out this beautiful red silk thread.

“Good choice,” she said. “I know you’ll make something truly remarkable with it.”

Steve blushed and said thank you again as Eddie led him out. They were forced to drag Robin back out of the building.

“Food,” Steve insisted. “Actually...” he had spotted a water fountain. “Water first then food.”

Eddie took a long drink, his throat dry from the spinning room. Robin went next and then Steve.

They barely made it to the food court just under the wire. Some of the kids were already there. Max and Lucas, Dustin, too. Gareth was there, but Jeff and Brian weren’t yet.

Dustin looked at his watched and tapped like a disapproving father. “Just what time do you call this, hmmm?”

Steve burst out laughing as Eddie threw his arm around his shoulders.

“Like father like son,” Eddie teased.

Dustin gasped, offended.

It wasn’t too long before El, Mike, and Will showed up, cutting it even finer than they had, arriving at 1pm exactly.

Steve just raised an eyebrow as they skidded to a stop in front of their table.

Steve got them their food and most of them were half way through their lunch by the time Jeff and Brian had wandered into the food court.

Everyone was talking about all the things they had seen and their plans for the rest of the day and maybe Steve was more than a little pleased that they hadn’t spent all their money.

Everyone was talking but Will. So Steve slid over to the young boy and nudged his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?” he whispered.

Mike looked up at them and then began to poke at his plate.

Alarm bells were going off in Steve’s head.

“There was this really cool wizard’s staff at one of the stalls,” Will said. “But it costs ten dollars more than what I have on me.”

“I offered to give him some of mine,” Mike said, “but he wouldn’t take it.”

Steve got it. “Ah.”

“It’s your money, Mike,” Will protested. “Buy something you want.”

“I want to buy it for you,” Mike bit back.

El poked at her food too. “I too, offered to help him buy it but he wouldn’t let me either.”

Eddie stood up and motioned for Mike and El to follow him, while Steve scooted closer to Will. “I’m sorry you couldn’t afford it and it’s hard when you want something so bad and it’s just out of reach.”

Will nodded. “But somehow I don’t think you specifically are talking about a wizard’s staff.”

Steve looked up at were Eddie was talking to Mike and El, and then ducked his head shyly. “No, you’re right there.”

Will gave his hand a squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I think he likes you too.”

Steve squeezed his hand right back. He just hoped Will was right.

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @dolphincliffs @child-of-cthulhu @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv

[wowzees]

Charles x reader day out on the yacht, just fluffiness

a/n: sorry this took so long! jst found out my dog has cancer and am trying to get the expenses to care for treatment, or ill have to put him down. hope you enjoy!

The sun glimmered on the water as Charles’s yacht, a sleek white vessel called Sedici, cut through the turquoise waves. You leaned against the railing, feeling the salty breeze mess with your hair, and a calm washed over you. It was like the whole world had melted away, leaving only the gentle sway of the boat and the rhythmic sound of waves splashing against the hull.

"Ready for some fun?" Charles asked, his voice low and teasing next to you. He handed you a pair of sunglasses, the lenses reflecting the bright sunlight.

You put them on with a grin. "Always ready for an adventure with you."

The day was a mix of sunshine and laughter. You lounged on the deck, sipping champagne, soaking up the rays, and letting the sun warm your skin. You took turns steering the yacht, the wind rushing through your hair as you steered through the sparkling water. Every now and then, Charles would steer the yacht off course just to mess with you, sending you both into fits of giggles.

You tried your hand at waterskiing, holding onto the rope as Charles expertly navigated the boat. Of course, you wiped out a couple of times, but Charles was quick to pull you back onto the boat with a big laugh. His joy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling lighter than you’d ever felt before.

Later, you swam in the crystal-clear water, your skin warming under the sun as you explored the underwater world with snorkels and masks. Schools of bright, colorful fish darted through the coral reefs, and you even saw a dolphin leaping through the waves, graceful and free.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the water, Charles led you to the bow of the yacht. He knelt down on one knee, the setting sun casting a golden glow across his face. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. In his hand, he held a small velvet box.

"Y/N," he started, his voice low and full of emotion. "From the moment I met you, my life has been filled with a light I didn’t even know I was missing. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known—smart, kind, and beautiful. With you, every day is an adventure. Every moment is a new joy."

He paused, his eyes locked on yours, searching for the right words. "Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, too emotional to say anything. You reached for his hand, your fingers intertwining. "Yes, Charles," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Yes, a thousand times yes."

He slid the ring onto your finger, the diamond sparkling in the fading sunlight. Then, without a word, he pulled you into a kiss, the taste of salt and champagne lingering on your lips. Holding onto him, you felt an overwhelming happiness rush through you—a sense of completeness you never thought was possible.

Above, the stars twinkled brightly, silently watching over your love. On the deck of Sedici, under the vast sky, you had found your forever.

The rest of the evening was a blur of champagne, laughter, and whispered promises. Charles, always the gentleman, insisted on serving you a gourmet dinner under the stars. As you ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with shared jokes, stolen glances, and talks about your dreams for the future. You talked about everything—your hopes, your fears, your plans—and it felt like the two of you were creating a beautiful, shared story.

As the night deepened, the stars above seemed to grow even brighter, filling the sky with a magical light. Charles, with a glint in his eyes, pulled out a guitar from a hidden compartment on the yacht. He started playing a soft melody, his rich voice singing a love song that made your heart swell with emotions you didn’t even know you had. You listened, completely mesmerized, as he poured his heart into the song.

Later, you lay side-by-side on the deck, the boat gently rocking, lulling you both to sleep. Charles wrapped his arms around you, his warmth melting away any remnants of tension. You snuggled closer, inhaling the scent of the sea mixed with his cologne. In that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just the two of you, alone under the stars, drifting in a sea of love and peace.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of seagulls and the soft lapping of waves against the hull. Charles was still asleep beside you, his face peaceful and relaxed. You smiled, watching him, the magic of the night still lingering in your heart. You knew this was just the start of something amazing—an adventure filled with love, laughter, and endless memories.

As you got ready to leave the yacht, a wave of sadness hit you. You didn’t want to leave this perfect world you’d created with Charles. But as you looked into his eyes, you knew that no matter where you went, you’d carry the memories of this perfect day with you.

As you drove away from the marina, you glanced back at Sedici, its white hull glowing in the sunlight. It was a bittersweet moment, saying goodbye to this chapter of your life. But you also knew the best was yet to come. You had found your soulmate, and their love was worth more than anything else in the world.

The journey ahead was full of excitement and possibility. You had a wedding to plan, a life to build together, and a future full of love to look forward to. But as you drove away, you couldn’t help but glance back at Sedici, a soft smile on your lips. It was a reminder of the magic you’d experienced and the love that had blossomed under the summer sun.

And as you looked back, you knew that the magic of that day, and the love you’d shared, would stay with you forever.

[elizabethsnuts]

Winterwidow baby perfecting her parkour skills (I.e climbing all over couch,table,hell even the kitchen) and scaring the living daylights out of her mama

Little Spy

WinterWidow x Daughter!reader

Summary: You can’t stop scaring Nat with all your little parkour tricks.

———

The Avengers Tower buzzed with activity as Bucky and Natasha tried to balance their duties as Avengers with the joys and challenges of parenthood. You were a ball of energy at two years old, with a mischievous streak that kept both your parents on their toes.

———

One particularly sunny afternoon, Natasha found herself in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the team. As she chopped vegetables, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Glancing around, her eyes landed the fridge, and there, perched on the top of it, was you, grinning mischievously.

"Buck!" Natasha called out, her voice a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Come see what your daughter's up to now."

Bucky appeared in the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the scene. "Looks like she's been perfecting her parkour skills again."

Natasha shook her head, trying to suppress a smile. "She's going to give me a heart attack one of these days."

Meanwhile, you, oblivious to your parents' concern, giggled as you leaped from the fridge to the countertop, then onto the kitchen table. "Look, Mama! I be like Peter!"

Natasha couldn't help herself from being impressed at her daughter's fearlessness but her heart was skipping a beat every time she watched you jumped from surface to surface. "You certainly are, sweetheart. But let's try to keep our feet on the ground, okay?"

Bucky scooped you up into his arms, chuckling as you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck. "You're quite the little spy, aren't you, babydoll?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "I spy with my little eye, Daddy!"

As Bucky carried you out of the kitchen, Natasha couldn't help but feel a surge of love for her little family. Despite the chaos and the constant surprises, she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. She shook her head with a smile and resumed with chopping the vegetables.

———

Later that evening, Bucky was lounging on the couch in the Avengers Tower common room, flipping through a book while sipping his coffee. Natasha sat across from him, tapping away on her laptop, her attention divided between her work and keeping an eye on you.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the room, followed by Natasha's exasperated sigh. Bucky looked up, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he spotted you perched precariously on top of the kitchen counter.

Natasha glanced up from her laptop, her eyes wide with alarm. "Y/N! How did you even get up there?"

You grinned with joy, your giggles flowing out of your mouth as you pointed to a nearby chair. "I climb, Mama!"

Bucky chuckled, setting his book aside. "She’s just like you, Nat."

Natasha shook her head, trying to hide her smile. "She's getting too sneaky!"

Bucky lifted you up from the counter, holding you securely in his arms. "She's just fearless, like her old man."

You giggled, wrapping your tiny arms around Bucky's neck again. "Daddy, watch me climb!"

Bucky grinned, lifting you higher. "Alright, let's see what you've got, babydoll."

You squirmed in excitement, wriggling out of Bucky's grasp and darting across the room. With the agility of what seemed to be from both your parents, you leaped onto the coffee table, then onto the back of the couch, and finishing on a table nearby.

Natasha gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she watched your daring jumps. "Bucky, she's going to get hurt!"

But Bucky just laughed, his eyes sparkling with pride. "She's fine, Nat. Look at her go!"

You jumped off the table and onto the floor, your tiny feet landing perfectly onto it as you beamed up at your parents. "I did it! I spy like Mama and Daddy!"

Natasha let out a relieved sigh as Bucky gently lifted you back onto his hip. "You certainly are, sweetheart. But let's try to keep the climbing to a minimum, okay?"

You nodded in slight disappointment, it quickly disappeared though when Tony walked in with the takeout for the night, your eyes widened with excitement.

As Bucky sat you down in your hair chair at the Avengers dinner table, Natasha couldn't help but smile. Despite the constant chaos and danger that surrounded them, moments like these reminded her of just how interesting and exciting you were. And with Bucky by her side, she knew they could handle anything that you decided to throw their way.

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

baby, you're the life of the party (5)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

It's his birthday and he's acting spoiled

TW⚠️: slightly suggestive, gojo is being gojo, slight manipulation (if you squint), and improper use of curse technique amplification: blue

a/n: im gonna go all the way up! stop hiding!!!!! you hiding forever!!! GEGE when I catch you gege‼️gege when I catch you gege‼️ this has not been proofread

1. what you see, i see

2. where you go, i go

3. you know i adore you

4. i'm crazier for you

To say she was intimidated was an understatement. Satoru had decided that his birthday would be held at his family estate. He had only given her an address when he skipped off grinning ear to ear. Gojo Satoru's family estate was huge. Bigger than she could've ever imagined - huge.

She gripped the present bag a little tighter. She had visited every sweet shop to track down his favorite sweets and went to the video game shop so early in the morning for the new digimon game. He had incessantly been talking about it and it was clear he wanted someone to buy it for him.

Nothing she bought was grand. Nothing she bought would compare to everything he already has.

She wasn't good enough. How could she ever be good enough? He was a powerful sorcerer, who struck fear into every curse he so much as glanced at and he was paired with someone like her? It didn't make any sense. In what way were they equals?

She sucked in a breath as her finger hovered over the doorbell. Maybe, she should go home and change into something nicer?

The gate was pulled open. A fluff of white hair attacked her at the entrance.

"Yay!"

Satoru rushed at her with the biggest grin on his face as he embraced her and spun gleefully with her in his arms.

She flung her arms around his neck and giggled, "Happy birthday, 'toru."

She rested her hands on his shoulders when he finally stopped spinning her around and showed off the present bag to him.

Satoru's grin widened as he snatched the present from her hand and swiftly picked her up in his arms again with his birthday present dangling from his fingers. He was practically skipping his way through the estate and ignored the odd looks he got from anyone who looked their way, he kicked his room's door open.

She thought he would open his present first, but no, he was showering her with kisses on her cheeks and neck instead.

She really shouldn't have kissed the corner of his lips. He was already a hot burning fire who would leap at any chance to kiss her and usually she wouldn't encourage it, but it was his birthday - how could she not give at least one kiss.

In her defense, she didn't know she would end up like this - underneath him on his bed as he peppered kisses all over her face and her present sitting prettily forgotten on a nightstand.

"Sa- Satoru," she whispered breathlessly, "what if someone comes in?"

"They'll knock," his lips latched on to her neck.

She bit her lip to stop herself from moaning.

Satoru squeezed her hips.

"You haven't," she tugged on his shirt, "you haven't opened your present."

Satoru smirked, "I'm opening it right now."

His lips trailed up from her neck back to her face as he assaulted her with kisses again.

She giggled, "Satoru!" She gently pushed at his face, "Stop! I should be the one showering you with kisses today."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with joy behind his glasses. He rolled off of her and leaned his cheek on his hand, "Go on then."

She gently cupped his cheek and softly rubbed her thumb on his soft skin. He leaned against her palm with a hum as his arms moved to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She pushed his glasses up from his face so she could see his brilliant blue eyes.

Satoru was beautiful. So beautiful.

"I'm waiting," He sang.

She placed a light kiss on his cheek, "How rude," a kiss on his forehead, "of me," a lighter much gentler kiss on his eyelids - his eyes were sensitive after all, "to keep," a kiss on his nose, "my birthday boy," then she grazed her lips against his, "waiting."

Satoru leaned in, but she leaned away from his lips with a smirk dancing on hers.

He absentmindedly chased her, his gaze fixated on her mouth, he whined, "Waiting for months and months and months."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, "I think I've kept you waiting long enough," she ran her fingers through his soft hair, "no?"

"Most definitely."

A sharp tug pulled her into him and crashed their lips together. The pulling sensation stopped as soon as their lips touched and all she could focus on, was on how soft Satoru's lips were on hers. Everything was so plush and warm and soft, even after months of waiting and Satoru being more than a little eager, he was still holding and kissing her so gently. The initial roughness was gone, replaced with heaven.

He was heaven.

Why did she wait so long to finally kiss him? Why did she wait at all that night? Or in the morning, when he was still bloody and he had leaned in to kiss her before he left, why did she stop him then?

They were soulmates. This was always going to happen. The universe would've thrusted them together one way or another, even if she had carried on with her plan to leave Japan and go to school abroad. An invisible string would've always tied her back to him - drawing her to him and him to her.

They were magnetic.

They were inevitable.

They parted and gasped for air. For a split moment her eyes were closed, she could see herself through his gaze - rosy cheeks and smiling, before she opened her eyes to look at him mirroring her expression.

Delighted, she leaned in to kiss him again, but Satoru leaned back, "I'm your boyfriend now, right?" He rubbed their noses together playfully, "For real, real?"

She moved to cup his cheeks with both of her hands, "Always were, 'toru."

Another harsh pull overcame her body as she was pulled impossibly closer to him - Blue, she realized, he was using blue.

She pecked his lips and giggled, "I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to use your curse technique."

Satoru deepened their kiss, "Just making sure, my girl stays near me today." He smiled against her lips, "I get to since it's my birthday and all."

"Don't spoil him too much," someone said at the door, "otherwise, he'll never leave you alone."

They both turned flushed red to see Suguru, with a soft smile on his face, standing at the doorway.

Shoko peeked her head out of Suguru's side, "Are you done?"

Satoru grinned, teeth and all, "Guess who's finally a taken man?"

Suguru and Shoko exchanged a look, "He's definitely never going to shut up about it."

"Definitely." Suguru nodded, "It's no wonder the universe gave him a soulmate, who else would be able to put up with him."

Shoko tilted her head at the girl resting her head on Satoru's shoulder, "You should leave while you still can."

Satoru let out a loud whine, but his soulmate stopped him with a chaste kiss on his cheek, "I would never leave 'toru."

He looked at his friends accusingly, "Yeah!"

They gave themselves another annoyed look - only she could tolerate him.

Suguru shrugged, "At least, I don't have to hear him whine about how he's not your boyfriend yet, and how he wants to kiss you so bad - "

A pillow smacked him right in the head.

Shoko laughed.

Satoru hugged his soulmate closer to him as she playfully smacked his arm, she said, "Satoru!"

Next thing she knew, both boys were on the floor fighting and just as Suguru was going to land a lunch on Satoru's face, his fist rebounded off an invisible wall. Satoru smirked as he extended his infinity to push Suguru off of him and tried to land a punch of his own, but Suguru was quick to react as he summoned a curse to take the brunt of the hit.

Shoko sighed as ______ grumbled at the sight of both of them fighting.

"You can't hit me!" Satoru yelled, "It's my birthday!"

"Like I care!" Suguru shot a curse at him.

Shoko grabbed ______ hand to lead her out of the room and shouted out, "We'll see you both there!"

"Wait - !" A loud smack, "Ow!"

She raised an eyebrow at Shoko, "I thought we were spending his birthday here?"

Shoko shook her head and smirked, "Nah, Gojo just wanted to get you here alone." She whipped out a cigarette from her pocket, "Geto and I crashed. You should've heard the way he was planning this whole week. It was sort of pathetic."

"A plan?"

Shoko hummed, "Mhm," she playfully mimicked Satoru's voice, "Operation: Love Quest!"

Satoru shouted from the door, his eyes shining with betrayal, "Shoko, you promised!"

Suguru laughed beside him and joined in as him and Shoko chanted, "Operation: Love Quest! Operation: Love Quest!"

She couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling out of her, even as Satoru grumbled and pouted like a child the entire day. It wasn't until he was satisfied with the amount of sweets everyone bought him that he stopped jutting out his lower lip.

He was all smiles then, especially when Shoko and Suguru retired for the day and it was just the two of them.

Satoru was quick to kiss her. Rougher than the first time, but still savoring every second their lips were together.

She giggled into the kiss, "Operation: Love Quest?"

This time there was no hint of embarrassment in his face as Satoru smugly smirked, "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

She hummed pleasantly and tugged on his neck to kiss him, "Come on, I got one more present for you."

The bakery wasn't from where they were as they quickly made their way through the crowd of people and walked inside the bakery.

The seats were hung up on the tables and most of the lights were off, but she made her way to the kitchen with ease. She pushed the kitchen doors open to reveal a beautifully adorned baby blue cake and in elegant iced letters: Happy Birthday Satoru.

Geto: you think he's dead???

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

Gojo: *in a sugar coma back in his dorm room*

Shoko: probably

@phoenix666stuff @96jnie @mr-underhills-things @whatamidoing89 @wbad-world @ancientimes @whippedbyikemen @sammyiguess (can't find you sorry) @pumpkindudeishere @witchofthecoffee @arminswifee (another one that cannot be tagged sorry) @weebotaku21 (another one I do not understand why) @nevermoresworld @jjk97091 (cannot tag you sorry) @toshirolovebot @marblesphere @sabo-has-my-heart @laurenzitaa

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

9. Reveluv

Note: hold on, you’re reading the right series. Just enjoy lol

Masterlist here

The buzz of excitement had been building for weeks. Aespa’s highly anticipated collaboration with Red Velvet was finally here, and it seemed like the entire company was on edge with excitement. But none more so than Y/n, who was—by all accounts—a certified Reveluv. He had tried to keep his enthusiasm under wraps, of course, but anyone who worked closely with him knew that his particular bias for Seulgi was impossible to hide.

As Aespa prepared for their big day, Y/n could feel the familiar nerves creeping in. Not because of the responsibility of organising such a large-scale collaboration, but because he knew he’d be in close proximity to Red Velvet’s Seulgi—the one and only.

“Y/n, you’re looking unusually peppy today,” Giselle teased, noticing his attempt to hide his excitement as they got ready in the studio.

“What? No, this is just my normal face,” Y/n mumbled, fidgeting with a clipboard.

“Uh-huh,” Ningning drawled, smirking. “Your ‘normal’ face that happens to glow whenever we mention Seulgi-unnie?”

Y/n’s ears turned red, but he didn’t have a comeback ready. He was too busy mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen: hours of rehearsals, and meetings, and potentially humiliating fanboy moments. Great.

Despite trained there at the same time as Winter, he actually never meet Red Velvet. He only became a fan when he left for a while.

So for today, he is both a manager and a Reveluv.

As the door opened and Red Velvet stepped into the studio, Y/n’s heart leaped into his throat. He could feel the energy shift as Aespa greeted their seniors with deep bows and warm smiles. Karina and Winter exchanged polite words with Irene and Joy, while Ningning and Giselle bonded instantly with Wendy and Yeri.

"Oh, Y/n-ah!" Minji, their manager, greeted him excitedly. "Finally, my first junior is working with me."

"Hi, noona. I'm excited as well." Y/n bowed. Suddenly, Minji scooted both of them into the side.

"Have fun gawking over our Seul." Minji smirked. "The girls bailed out on you for comedic relief."

"Of course they do…" Y/n muttered.

"Anyway…have fun!" Minji exclaimed before turning over to the girls. "Seulgi-ya! Can you come here please?"

"Ok!"

And then, there she was—Seulgi.

Y/n had met idols before. He had spent countless hours with Aespa and other artists, coordinating schedules, handling logistics, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. But this was different. Seulgi was, well... Seulgi.

"Seulgi, this is-"

“Y/n, right?” Seulgi smiled as she approached him, her voice as warm and friendly as he’d always imagined. "I heard from Minjeong about her hardworking best friend."

Y/n blinked, his brain short-circuiting. “Y-Yeah! I mean, yes, that’s me. I’m Y/n. Manager of Aespa. Yep, that’s who I am.”

The girls of Aespa exchanged knowing looks, barely suppressing their giggles at Y/n’s obvious awkwardness. He tried to keep his cool, reminding himself that he had a job to do. But internally, he was screaming.

Seulgi just smiled wider, clearly amused by his reaction. “Well, it’s nice to meet you officially. We’re really excited about this collaboration with our junior.”

“I-I’m excited too! Really, really excited,” Y/n blurted out before clearing his throat, hoping to regain some semblance of professionalism. “I mean, on behalf of Aespa, we’re all really looking forward to this.”

Seulgi chuckled softly before heading over to join her members, leaving Y/n standing there, frozen in place.

-

Trying to focus on logistics when Seulgi was right there was proving to be difficult. Every time Y/n glanced in her direction, his heart would skip a beat, and it didn’t help that Aespa, particularly Ningning and Giselle, seemed to be enjoying his internal struggle way too much.

“Idiot, are you okay?” Winter asked, feigning concern as she watched him fumble with the equipment setup.

“I’m fine, Jeong” Y/n muttered, clearly not fine. “Just, uh, making sure everything’s perfect for... you know... the performance.”

Karina smirked. “For the performance? Or for Seulgi-unnie?”

Y/n shot her a withering look, but the effect was lost when he nearly dropped his clipboard. Giselle and Ningning couldn’t hold back their laughter anymore, while Winter just shook her head, clearly enjoying his suffering.

"Stuff you all."

As the rehearsals went on, things only got worse. At one point, Y/n found himself standing too close to Seulgi during a break, and he nearly knocked over a mic stand trying to back away gracefully. Seulgi just laughed it off, but Y/n could feel his face burning.

At the end of the day, though, everything came together beautifully. The chemistry between Aespa and Red Velvet was electric, and the joint practice was nothing short of magical. Y/n had been so focused on keeping everything running smoothly that he had barely processed how incredible it all looked until he saw it from backstage. Watching both groups in perfect harmony, dancing and singing together, was a dream come true—not just for fans, but for him personally.

As the performance ended, Y/n stood in awe, his heart swelling with pride. Both groups had nailed it, and the crowd’s reaction was proof of that.

-

The after-dinner was a blur of get together and shared excitement. Both Aespa and Red Velvet were in high spirits, celebrating their bonds with food and laughter. Y/n, still riding the high from the practice, was doing his best to keep his cool, but the occasional glance at Seulgi kept his fanboy tendencies in check.

Ningning, however, wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “So, Y/n,” she started with a sly grin, “I saw Seulgi-unnie looking your way during practice. You should totally ask for a picture.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I can’t just... I mean… Ya Ning, it's mean to give me high hopes.”

“She’s right,” Karina chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s your chance. You’ve been a fan for years, right?”

“Yeah, and we can all tell,” Giselle teased. “You’ve been holding it together pretty well today, but come on—don’t miss this.”

Before Y/n could protest, he found himself being nudged forward by the girls, his feet carrying him toward Seulgi before his brain could catch up. His heart pounded in his chest as he approached her, still unsure of what he was going to say.

“Seulgi-sunbaenim,” he started, his voice a little shaky.

She turned to him with that same warm smile, and Y/n felt his nerves melt away—just a little. “Yes, Y/n?”

“I-I was wondering,” he stammered, “if it’d be okay to take a picture with you. Just... you know, for the memories.”

Seulgi’s smile widened, and without hesitation, she agreed. “Of course! Let’s take one.”

Y/n could hardly believe it as they stood together, smiling for the camera. The girls, watching from the sidelines, couldn’t contain their giggles, knowing how much this moment meant to him.

Afterward, Y/n stared at the picture on his phone, barely able to process what had just happened. It wasn’t just a photo—it was a treasured memory, one that he knew he’d look back on for years.

-

The night continued with more laughter and celebration. Red Velvet and Aespa were mingling, the two groups bonding over their shared experience and the success of their collaboration.

At some point, Y/n found himself sitting with both groups, listening to the girls talk about their favourite moments from practice. The atmosphere was relaxed, the tension of rehearsals and preparation long gone.

Seulgi, sitting nearby, caught his eye and gave him a knowing smile. “You did great today, Y/n. It’s not easy organising something like this, but everything turned out perfect.”

Y/n, still reeling from his fanboy moment, could only nod. “Thank you, Seulgi-sunbaenim. It was... an honour.”

"Ayy, call me Seulgi-noona, now. We're way past acquaintance at this point."

"Ah ok…Seulgi-noona.."

"…Ya Seulgi, you broke him." Minji joked.

"Unnie, you're so mean." Winter followed suit.

As the evening came to a close, Y/n found himself quietly reflecting on the day (after finally coming into his sense). It had been a whirlwind of excitement and nerves, but in the end, everything had come together in ways he never expected.

He smiled to himself, the photo of him and Seulgi saved on his phone like a cherished trophy. Today had been a dream come true—and he knew that, no matter how many more events he organised in the future, this collaboration would always hold a special place in his heart.

…Of course, it doesn’t top the first picture of him and Winter smiling together when they first joined SM.

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt. 10)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

CW: murder, gore, time skip!

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part nine part eleven

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The hours crawl by as you wait, every passing minute gnawing at your resolve. You’ve been through countless battles, faced countless dangers, but nothing compares to the anxiety that grips you now. The ambush against the Seldarine should have been over hours ago, and yet there’s been no word, no sign of Minthara’s return. You clench your hands into fists, trying to banish the fear that threatens to consume you.

Then, at last, you hear the sound of footsteps, the buzz of returning warriors. Your heart leaps, and without a second thought, you sprint toward the coves where the war spiders are kept, your breath catching in your throat. As you weave through the crowd, your eyes dart from face to face, desperately searching until—there. You see her, Minthara, standing tall as always, the faint sheen of battle still clinging to her skin.

Relief floods through you, and you call out her name, your voice breaking just a little. She turns, and the sight that greets you makes your heart soar. Strapped snugly to her chest is your daughter, Lythaera, her tiny hands clutching at Minthara’s armor as she babbles happily, entirely unaware of the chaos she’s just left behind.

You reach them in a heartbeat, gathering Lythaera into your arms and holding her close, as if to reassure yourself that she’s truly there, truly safe. You shower her in kisses, murmuring endearments against her soft snow hair, and her delighted giggles fill the air.

"My little spiderling, my sweet Lythaera," you whisper, blinking back tears. Minthara watches, her arms crossing over her chest, one eyebrow arching with playful exasperation.

"Oh, I see how it is," she drawls. "Completely ignored, am I?"

You glare at her, though there’s no heat in it. "You took her to the front lines!" you scold, still holding Lythaera tightly. "She’s two years old, Minthara!"

"She loved it," Minthara replies, entirely unrepentant. "She helped her mother slaughter Seldarine scum, didn't you my little terror?"

Minthara coos and swiped some dirt from Lythaera's cheek. You open your mouth to scold her again, but a familiar voice interrupts.

"Has anyone seen my dearests?" Lesaonar asks, striding toward you with an anxious frown. Before Minthara can answer, Melinoe emerges from the crowd with a confident smirk, a little dirtied but unharmed.

"Calm yourself, Lesaonar," Melinoe chides, her voice teasing yet affectionate, though there’s a hint of exasperation beneath. "You fret more than an old priestess in a temple."

Before Lesaonar can respond, three small figures dart out from behind her, their excitement palpable. Lira, Sarae, and Viroen rush toward their father with all the unrestrained energy only children possess, their faces lit up with joy and pride. In an instant, they collide with him, nearly knocking him off his feet as they all wrap their little arms around him. Only six years in age, but as spirited as eager warriors.

“Papa! Papa!” they exclaim in unison, their voices rising in a chorus of excitement. Lesaonar laughs, the tension melting from his features as he wraps his arms around his triplets.

"Well, what’s all this? Did my brave little warriors come back victorious?" he asks, his tone warm and doting.

"We got to use weapons!" Lira announces proudly, her ruby eyes sparkling. She holds up a tiny dagger, less of a toy and more like an actual weapon, brandishing it with all the seriousness of a seasoned warrior. "Mama said I was really good with it!"

"I wasn’t scared at all!" Sarae adds, puffing out her chest, clearly trying to look as fearless as possible. "I even hit a Seldarine warrior!"

Viroen, usually the quietest, grins up at his father, holding out his own little weapon. "I did too, Papa! Just like you showed me!"

Lesaonar’s face softens with pride, and he ruffles each of their hair affectionately.

"You all did wonderfully," he praises. "But you must always remember to be careful, yes? Even the bravest warriors know when to be cautious."

Melinoe smirks, crossing her arms. "They were perfect, just like their mother," she declares, and Lesaonar rolls his eyes, but there’s an undeniable warmth in the way he looks at her. As the chaos of the family reunion continues, Minthara nudges you gently with her elbow.

"You know," she says, her voice low and teasing, "that will be Lythaera soon enough. Charging into battle with her weapon, ready to take on the world."

You clutch Lythaera a little closer to your chest, her tiny head nestled under your chin, as if shielding her from the very idea. Lythaera squirms slightly, reaching out to the chaos of her cousins.

"Absolutely not," you murmur, pressing a kiss to her soft hair. "She’ll be a sorceress like her mama. No weapons, no front lines."

Minthara rolls her eyes but there’s a tenderness in her gaze as she watches you.

"You’re going to coddle her," she says, though there’s no real reproach in her tone.

"She’s two," you retort, not willing to concede this point. With a playful sigh, Minthara leans in, her lips brushing just above your ear.

"You coddle her because you’re afraid she’ll be too much like me," she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. And for a moment, you’re tempted to give in, to let her steal that kiss. But you catch yourself, just in time, and press a finger to her lips.

"Only good wives get kisses," you say with a smirk, watching as her eyes narrow in playful indignation.

She lets out an exaggerated scoff, though the corners of her mouth twitch with amusement. "Is that so? And what makes a good wife, pray tell?"

You lean in, just close enough that she can feel the warmth of your breath against her skin, and whisper, "A good wife doesn’t sneak her daughter to the front lines of battle."

Minthara laughs, a genuine, rich sound that echoes off the cavern walls. She shakes her head, amused, and presses a gentle kiss to Lythaera’s forehead.

As you turn to leave, Lythaera still snug in your arms, Minthara takes a swift step closer, her hand sliding to the back of your neck. Before you can protest, she pulls you in, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. It’s as if she’s pouring all her relief and love into that single moment, and for a heartbeat, you forget everything else. When she finally pulls back, there’s a sly smile on her lips, her eyes glinting with that familiar spark.

“Stealing kisses now?” you murmur, breathless, a hand still lingering on her waist. Minthara shrugs, utterly unrepentant.

“It’s not stealing if it’s already mine,” she retorts, tracing a finger along your jawline. You can only shake your head, torn between amusement and exasperation.

“I have to tend to Lythaera,” you say, though your voice is softer, warmer now.

“I’ll be waiting,” Minthara replies, giving you one last lingering look before you finally pull away, turning your full attention to your daughter.

You make your way back to your quarters, Lythaera babbling happily in your arms. Her small hands reach out to pat your cheeks, her eyes bright with the excitement that only a two-year-old can muster. Oh how Lolth had blessed you.

Once there, you set her down carefully, insisting on washing and changing her yourself. Despite the servants’ offers to assist, you wave them away; this is your moment, your duty as a mother. As you wash her tiny hands and feet, you patiently guide her through the words she’s learning.

“Water,” you say, pointing to the bowl, and she repeats it clumsily, her little voice full of concentration.

“Cloth,” you say, and she parrots back, a proud grin spreading across her face.

But then, without fail, she lets out a delighted “Fight!”

Her eyes shine with a fierceness that’s far too familiar, and you can’t help but smile. She’s so much like Minthara, already so determined, so fearless. You sigh and press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You are your mother’s daughter, little one.”

Once Lythaera is fresh, dressed, and properly tended to, you lift her up and make your way back to Minthara. The halls of the stronghold echo with the familiar sounds of Drow life—steel against steel, the whispered incantations of sorceresses, and the scurrying of servants. As you turn a corner, you nearly collide with Kyorlin, who seems momentarily startled, his eyes flicking from you to Lythaera.

“Brother,” you greet, your voice warm. “Out and about?”

Kyorlin shifts awkwardly, his gaze lingering on Lythaera before darting away, as if unsure of how to handle the tiny bundle in your arms. Since returning from the front lines and serving in the house guard, Kyorlin had somewhat settled, yet you always felt a level of detachment from him, that even extended to his nieces and nephews.

“She’s… grown,” he says haltingly, as if uncertain of how to proceed. His words are awkward, but you can see the effort he’s making, the genuine attempt to connect.

“She has,” you agree, gently bouncing Lythaera on your hip. “She’s just like her mother, strong, lively.”

Kyorlin gives a faint, wry smile at that. “I have no doubt.” There’s a pause, and then his expression shifts, growing more serious. “I wanted to let you know—I’ll be taking an excursion to the front lines. There’s word of movement from the Seldarine forces, and it requires my attention.”

Your heart sinks a little. “But you’ll miss the anniversary ball,” you say quietly, a pang of disappointment threading through your voice.

Kyorlin’s gaze softens, though his tone remains resolute. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be there, truly. But you know as well as I do that duty comes first.”

You nod, understanding but still saddened, your own emotions distracting you from the way his sincerity seems so forced. “Just… come back safely, alright?”

He inclines his head, and for a moment, you catch the flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes.

“I will. Take care of her,” he adds, glancing pointedly at Lythaera, who is now trying to grab at the strands of your hair.

“I always do,” you reply with a smile, and for a moment, he looks as if he wants to say more, but instead he simply gives a small nod and steps aside, allowing you to pass. You watch him go for a moment, then turn your attention back to your daughter.

“You’ll see Uncle Kyorlin soon, I promise,” you whisper, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

She simply giggles and repeats, “Fight!” one last time, and you can’t help but laugh as you continue on your way to find Minthara once more.

As you near Minthara’s study, you pause just outside the doorway, taking a moment to compose yourself. Despite the years you’ve spent together, there’s still something about seeing her that sets your heart aflame.

Pushing open the door, you find Minthara seated at her desk, looking at the array of documents and scrolls that had found their way to her in her absence, her armor still adorned with fresh battle marks. When she looks up and sees you standing there, her entire face softens, a warmth spreading through her eyes that she reserves for you and Lythaera alone.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite girls,” she says, setting down the parchment. “Did you miss me, my darling?” Her gaze drops to Lythaera, who immediately reaches out, making grabby hands toward her mother. Minthara’s expression turns even more adoring, and she rises to take the little one from your arms.

“You do look adorable, my little spider,” she coos, pressing a kiss to Lythaera’s forehead as she settles in her lap. “But I must say, you looked far cuter in your battle armor.”

You let out an exaggerated groan. "Minthara," you chide, though there’s no real bite to your words. “We’ve talked about this. She’s not supposed to have battle armor. She’s not even out of her toddler years.”

Minthara smirks, her eyes never leaving Lythaera’s. "She wore it well," she murmurs, tracing her thumb over Lythaera's cheek. “Our little warrior.”

You take a step closer, lowering your voice. “If you want to sleep in the same bed as me tonight, you won’t take my grace and patience for granted,” you whisper, your tone playful yet carrying just a hint of a warning.

Minthara chuckles, and her eyes glint mischievously as she pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deliberate, savoring every second of contact. She tastes of salt and steel, and you melt into her, letting her lead until she finally pulls back, lips curling into a smirk.

“Your grace and patience are what I live for, my love,” she murmurs, voice husky with affection. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, but you sober slightly, moving on to more pressing matters.

“Kyorlin won’t be attending the wedding anniversary ball in a few days,” you say, watching for her reaction. Minthara arches an eyebrow, feigning shock.

“Oh, no,” she drawls, placing a hand to her chest and looks to Lythaera who stares up at her with wide red eyes. “Whatever will we do without him, my spiderling? I’m positively heartbroken.”

Her attempt at looking devastated is so over the top that you can’t help but snort in amusement.

“He’s a war cleric of Lolth, Minthara,” you remind her, though you’re well aware that she knows this. “He serves House Baenre more faithfully than any other. He's going as support for the front lines.”

“Does he?” she retorts, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “I find it strange that no one mentioned any need for extra soldiers on the front line. Perhaps a lucky miscommunication on his part?”

There’s a subtle edge to her tone, one you’ve heard countless times when she’s probing for weaknesses. You roll your eyes, not rising to the bait. At least not in front of your daughter.

“He is your brother-in-law,” you remind her. “You could show him a little more kindness.”

“I don’t trust him,” Minthara replies bluntly, and for once, the playful veneer drops. There’s genuine concern in her eyes, a protective glimmer that makes your heart ache. “There’s something about him that doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t care how many battles he’s fought for Baenre or how, in the great mother's web, he got Lolth's favour.”

"He shares the same blood as I do, Lolth's blood, Minthara," You sigh, reaching out to take her hand. “Kyorlin has had a past, I agree but since then, he has never given us a reason to doubt him. He’s been loyal.”

“Loyal to whom?” she counters, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “You, perhaps. But not to me. And I won’t take any chances where our family is concerned.”

Minthara, holds Lythaera closer to her and you squeeze her hand, the weight of her words settling between you. Minthara’s fingers absentmindedly trace patterns along your arm, her eyes narrowing slightly as she is physically unable to drop the matter.

“You know, I’ve never once seen Kyorlin at chapel,” she mutters, clearly unwilling to let the topic of your brother drop entirely.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “And I barely see you at chapel,” you retort with a smirk. Instead of defending herself, Minthara merely tilts her head, lips quirking up in triumph.

“You didn't disagree with me,” she says, as if that proves her point beyond doubt. She makes to continue her tirade, but you silence her with a sudden kiss, the kind that leaves her momentarily breathless, her words forgotten. Lythaera giggles happily and you pull back just enough to look into her eyes.

“Let’s not forget how this marriage of ours started,” you murmur, voice soft but edged with steel. “You slaughtered my entire family because you were essentially bored and wanted to flaunt your power. And while I didn’t care much for most of them, I did care for my brothers—Kyorlin and Lesaonar. Perhaps Kyorlin still hasn’t entirely forgiven that.”

Minthara rolls her eyes, letting out a dismissive huff. “That was years ago,” she replies, sounding entirely unrepentant. “And besides, you don’t care. Lesaonar doesn’t care. He’s thriving here in House Baenre, basking in his new position and status. He is favoured by all of the elders of the house, a feat that not even I have achieved."

You nod in agreement but hold her gaze, refusing to let her off the hook. “That might be true, but you need to at least take Kyorlin’s feelings into consideration. Not everyone is as willing to move on as we are.”

Minthara grumbles under her breath, something low and unintelligible. You arch an eyebrow, smirking. “What was that?”

She clears her throat and replies, “Yes, my love.”

You let out a bark of laughter, shaking your head. “Liar. That’s not what you said.”

Minthara only smirks back, tilting her chin up defiantly but not bothering to correct you. The lightheartedness between you is a familiar comfort, a balm to the chaos that often surrounds your lives. You lean across and pick up Lythaera from Minthara's lap, hesitating as you brush a stray lock of hair from her face and ask, “How long until you come to bed?”

She sighs as she relinquishes Lythaera to you, looking toward her desk, which is stacked with scrolls and ledgers.

“I have a few matron duties to catch up on,” she admits. “But I shouldn’t be too long.” She pauses, her gaze sharpening with playful sternness. “However, I better not find Lythaera in our bed when I return.”

You can’t help but pout. “She’s had a big day, Minthara,” you protest, knowing full well where this is going. “She needs comfort.”

“She needs to learn how to sleep in her own bed,” Minthara counters, crossing her arms and fixing you with a mock stern glare. “And you’re the worst at it, always giving in and letting her stay with us. How am I meant to instill that Baenrae savagery if she cannot even stay in her own bed?"

You try to hold out, completely ignoring Minthara's words, but her expression is unwavering, a mix of exasperation and affection. Finally, you let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Fine,” you grumble, already missing the idea of your daughter’s tiny warmth snuggled against you. “But if she cries—”

“Then you will have to be strong,” Minthara interjects, her lips twitching into a smile. “And besides, I’ll be back before you know it.”

She leans in to steal one last kiss, and for a moment, you feel that familiar spark between you, the one that’s never faded, no matter how much time has passed.

“Go,” you whisper against her lips, reluctantly pulling away. “Tend to your matron duties. I’ll be waiting.”

“Of course you will,” she teases, brushing her fingers against your cheek one last time before turning toward her desk. You watch her for a moment longer, feeling the warmth of her presence linger even as you make your way to the door, Lythaera still settled in your arms.

As you leave, you hear Minthara’s voice, quiet but full of affection. “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight,” you reply, glancing back one last time before stepping out into the hall.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Minthara slips quietly into your quarters, her steps silent as a shadow. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of faerie fire casting long shadows across the walls. As she looks around, she’s puzzled to see the bed untouched, still neatly made. Her brow furrows, and a flicker of concern tugs at her. She scans the room, her eyes narrowing until she catches the faint light coming from the nursery.

She steps into the adjoining room, and her heart warms at the sight before her. You’re there, sitting by Lythaera’s cot, your gaze soft and tender as you watch over your sleeping daughter. There’s a serene smile on your lips, and when you look up to see her standing there, you offer her a knowing, mischievous grin.

“I didn’t break the deal,” you whisper, tilting your head toward the crib. “She’s not in our bed.”

Minthara lets out an exasperated sigh, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“You’re incorrigible,” she mutters, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you to your feet. “Overprotective to the point of being tedious.”

There’s a warmth in her voice, though, and you can see the affection shining in her eyes.

“You weren’t any better when I was pregnant with her,” you counter, letting her guide you back to the bedroom. “You practically treated me like I was made of spun glass.”

Minthara’s eyes soften at the memory, and she hums thoughtfully.

“You were carrying our first child,” she says, as if that explains everything. “I would have burned the Underdark to keep you safe.” Her fingers brush against your cheek, her touch lingering, and her eyes take on a familiar, mischievous glint. “Perhaps I should get you pregnant again,” she murmurs, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips. “You were quite radiant, carrying my child.”

You draw in a breath, steadying yourself as you prepare to speak the words you’ve been holding back.

“What if I already am?” you say softly, watching her face closely. “I’ve been late—by a month. I’m seeing the healers in the morning to confirm it.”

Minthara’s eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks utterly stunned, as if she’s trying to process the enormity of your words.

“You’re… you’re serious?” she breathes, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. You nod, biting your lip as you try to keep your own emotions in check.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure,” you admit. “But… I think I might be.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Minthara lets out a shaky, incredulous laugh, her arms tightening around you.

“You’re really…?” She doesn’t finish the sentence, as if she’s afraid that saying it out loud will somehow break the spell.

“I think so,” you whisper, and that’s all it takes for her to pull you into a fierce, almost desperate embrace. She presses her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with yours as she closes her eyes, trying to absorb the reality of it.

“You’re giving me another child,” she murmurs, almost as if she can’t quite believe it. “You’re giving us another child.”

You nod, tears pricking at your eyes as she cups your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the stray drops that have started to fall. She leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips that’s both tender and passionate, pouring all her love and gratitude into that single gesture.

“You’ll be careful,” she whispers against your lips, her tone shifting to that fierce protectiveness you’ve come to know so well. “No more taking risks, no more unnecessary fretting. I won’t have you endangering yourself or our child.”

You laugh softly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze.

“I’ll be as careful as you let me be,” you promise, and she nods, though there’s still a hint of worry lingering in her eyes. "I'm not the one sneaking our two year old out onto the front lines."

“Point taken,” she murmurs, drawing you closer, her lips finding yours once more.

At that moment, with her arms wrapped around you and the promise of a new life growing within you, you feel a warmth settle over you, deeper and more enduring than any spell. Minthara pulls away and rests her forehead against yours.

"We’re going to the infirmary now," she declares, leaving no room for argument and she takes your hand, leading you out into the corridors. You laugh, trying to keep up with her hurried pace as she all but drags you through the winding corridors of the stronghold.

“Minthara, it’s practically the middle of the night,” you protest, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. Her eagerness is infectious, and despite the hour, you can’t help but feel your own excitement bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t care if it’s the middle of the Spider Queen’s web,” Minthara replies, glancing over her shoulder with a determined glint in her eyes. “I won’t wait a moment longer. I need to know if Lolth has blessed us again.”

You can’t help but smile at the fervor in her voice. It’s rare to see her this openly vulnerable, this eager, and you find yourself falling even more in love with her in that moment.

When you finally reach the infirmary, the dimly lit room is quiet, save for the soft hum of magic that always lingers in the air. A single healer, a middle-aged drow woman with silver hair and a no-nonsense expression, looks up in surprise as the two of you burst through the door.

“Mistress, Matron,” the healer greets, bowing her head respectfully. “What brings you here at such an hour?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minthara snaps, her impatience overriding her usual courtesy. She points to you, her eyes flashing with urgency. “We need you to confirm if she’s with child. Now.”

The healer’s eyes widen, but she quickly regains her composure, nodding as she gestures for you to take a seat on one of the low, cushioned benches.

“Of course,” she says calmly, already moving to gather her tools. “This won’t take long.”

Minthara hovers anxiously at your side, her fingers tapping a rapid rhythm against her thigh. You reach out to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and she squeezes back so tightly you’re almost certain she’s forgotten her own strength.

“Patience,” you murmur, smiling up at her. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Minthara replies, though her voice is tight, her eyes never leaving the healer as she begins her examination.

The healer works efficiently, murmuring incantations under her breath as her hands glow with a soft, warm light. She hovers her hands just above your abdomen, the magic tingling against your skin, and you hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

Minthara’s grip on your hand tightens even more, and you feel her trembling slightly, though she’s trying her best to hide it. Finally, the healer’s magic fades, and she steps back with a smile.

“Congratulations, Matron,” she says, bowing her head once more. “The signs are clear. Lolth has indeed blessed you with another child.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your eyes widening in wonder. Minthara’s reaction, however, is far more intense. A joyous, triumphant laugh bursts from her lips, echoing through the infirmary as she sweeps you up into her arms, twirling you around as if you weigh nothing at all.

“Did you hear that?” she exclaims, her voice full of awe and delight. “You’re carrying our child—our second child!” She presses fervent kisses against your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, any part of you she can reach. “I knew it! I knew Lolth would bless us again!”

You can’t help but laugh at her exuberance, your own heart soaring with happiness as you cling to her, your arms wrapped around her neck.

“Yes, yes, Minthara, I heard,” you say, tears of joy pricking at your eyes. “We’re going to have another child.”

The healer steps forward, her expression warm as she offers her congratulations.

“It’s a great honor,” she says, her tone reverent. “The Spider Queen has chosen to bless you both once more. May her web guide and protect this child as it grows.”

“Thank you,” you manage to say, still breathless from the whirlwind of emotions. Minthara barely acknowledges the healer’s words, too caught up in the moment to care about anything but you and the life growing inside you.

As the healer steps back, giving Minthara and you space to process the news, you feel the familiar shift in Minthara’s demeanor. That protective intensity, always just beneath the surface, rises in her like a tidal wave—her eyes narrowing as she turns her full attention to the healer.

“I want the best care for her,” Minthara declares, her voice like steel, sharp and unwavering. “Only the finest healers, the most potent enchantments. If any harm comes to her or the child, I will personally see to it that heads will roll.” Her hand tightens around yours possessively, as if to reaffirm her claim on you—her wife, her treasure.

The healer, sensing the shift, bows her head deeply, her voice measured and cautious. “Of course, Matron. The Mistress will receive nothing but the highest level of care. I will see to it personally.”

Minthara’s gaze sharpens even further, her tone laced with a deadly calm.

“You will ensure it,” she corrects, her lips pulling into a slight sneer. “If I find out otherwise, I will not hesitate to remind everyone in this House that the well-being of my family is paramount. Failure is not an option.”

You roll your eyes, suppressing a smirk at Minthara’s over-the-top threats. It’s not the first time you’ve seen her get like this. Her ferocious protectiveness over you and now your unborn child always had a way of turning every healer’s visit into a dramatic affair.

“Here we go again,” you mutter under your breath, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth. Minthara catches your eye, and for a brief moment, the tension melts away as she narrows her gaze at you in mock indignation.

“What?” she asks, feigning offense. “I’m just ensuring your safety, my love. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “For you threatening to slaughter every healer who so much as looks at me wrong? Yes, I feel so very safe.” You give her a playful shove, and Minthara huffs, though the glint of amusement in her eyes betrays her.

“They should take you seriously,” she mutters, her gaze darting back to the healer, who looks like she’s trying her best not to tremble. “The mistress’ well-being is the utmost priority. I won’t tolerate anything less than perfection.”

“Oh, Minthara,” you sigh, shaking your head fondly. “You were just as bad when I was pregnant with Lythaera.”

“And rightly so,” Minthara replies, her arm slipping around your waist again, drawing you closer as if you were fragile. “Look how perfect she turned out, my little heiress, and now there's another one on the way.”

There’s pride in her voice now, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of your daughter, Lythaera, sleeping soundly back in her nursery. The thought of her having a sibling warms your heart.

“Just remember,” you murmur, leaning into her as you glance up at her face. “I’m not made of glass. I survived the Underdark, remember?”

Minthara snorts at that, her grip on you tightening as her lips press against the top of your head.

“Still,” she says softly, “you’re my wife. You’re carrying my child again, and I won’t take any chances. Not now, not ever.”

The healer, sensing the conversation is coming to a close, offers another deep bow. “I will prepare everything for the matron’s care immediately,” she assures you both, her voice filled with sincerity. “The best healers in the House will be available at all times.”

Minthara gives a curt nod, though her eyes linger on the healer for a moment longer, as if silently warning her one last time. When the healer finally leaves the room, Minthara turns her full attention back to you, her expression softening.

“I mean it,” she whispers, her forehead resting against yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You and our child.”

You smile up at her, your heart swelling with love. “I know,” you reply, brushing a hand against her cheek. “And I love you for it. But you need to trust that I can handle myself. We’ll be fine, Minthara. You don’t have to threaten to slaughter anyone this time.”

Minthara chuckles softly at that, her fingers tracing delicate patterns along your back.

“We’ll see,” she says, her tone teasing but still laced with that fierce protectiveness that defines her. “But I make no promises.”

You roll your eyes again, laughing softly as you pull her in for another kiss, knowing that beneath all the bluster and threats, Minthara’s love for you is as deep and unwavering as ever. And in this moment, surrounded by her fierce devotion and the warmth of her arms, you feel truly safe—protected by the arachnidian dragon guarding its most precious hoard.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The next morning, the grand dining hall of the House echoes with the low hum of conversation and the clatter of silverware. Minthara had summoned the inner circle of the family to breakfast—a rare occasion for such a gathering, and you could feel the anticipation in the air. Lythaera sat at your side, happily playing with a small toy spider, her giggles occasionally breaking the morning quiet.

Minthara, ever the commanding presence, stood at the head of the table, her gaze sweeping across the room as Melinoe, Lesaonar, their triplets, and finally Kyorlin took their places. You had also forced Minthara to invite her siblings and their broods, though she really could not care for them, you wanted to keep the family connections nurtured. The moment Minthara speaks, the room falls silent.

“I have called you all here this morning because Lolth has once again blessed us with her favor,” she announces, her voice rich with pride. Her hand finds yours beneath the table, squeezing it gently as she continues. “My beloved wife is with child. We will soon welcome another into our House.”

There’s a moment of stillness, a breath caught in time, before the room erupts in cheers and congratulations. Even Kyorlin, who rarely showed much in the way of emotion, manages a small, restrained smile—though Minthara notes that it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Lesaonar is on his feet in an instant, a wide grin splitting his face. He strides over and wraps you in a tight hug, careful not to squeeze too hard but still radiating warmth and excitement.

His voice is filled with genuine joy as he speaks. “Sister, this is wonderful news! Every morning, I shall offer my prayers to the Spider Queen that she blesses you with triplets, so you may know the unmatched joy of wrangling three children at once.”

You let out a mock groan, playfully swatting his arm as you scowl at him.

“Triplets? No thank you, Lesaonar. I've seen how much ‘joy’ your trio brings you.” Your eyes flick to his triplets, who at this very moment are arguing over a piece of bread, and you raise a brow. “I think one child at a time is enough chaos for me.”

Lesaonar laughs, unbothered by your teasing, his love for his children shining through even as he jokingly shakes his head. “You say that now, but trust me. You’ll come to love the madness.”

Minthara’s siblings offer their own congratulations, though more reserved - primarily out of fear of their elder sibling, their children do the same. There is a definite difference between the way Minthara's family behaves and those related to you. Minthara's family acts with a deadly reverence, instilled in them from years of training, and comfort drawn from the presence of family is unknown to them.

Melinoe, is perhaps the only exception, and that was due to her marriage to Lesaonar, he had clearly worn off on her. Their marriage had been driven by Melinoe's unexpected pregnancy - which was a surprise to all. Women in House Baenre were not required to marry, to bind themselves to their offspring's father. Child mortality rates in drow houses were particularly high so reproduction with multiple partners (usually concubines) was encouraged - marriage, a sacred rite, gets in the way of that.

When Lesaonar heard the news that Melinoe was expecting he was prepared to provide whatever Melinoe demanded of him. If Melinoe wanted to give the unborn child to him so she could focus on her work and live her life, unburdened by the child, he was prepared for it. If she wanted to get rid of the child altogether, he was prepared for it. If she wanted to run off with someone else and raise the child without him, he was, begrudgingly, prepared for it. This was the way of life for him

What he was not prepared for was for Melinoe to propose, to claim him as her own, to love and serve him and be loved and served in return. Lesaonar had lived quite a rakish lifestyle before becoming romantically entangled with Melinoe, but since then he had fallen terribly and awfully in love with her and Melinoe had done the same.

You had been thrilled by the news, congratulating both of them, whereas Minthara had Melinoe checked for head trauma. Suggesting that perhaps pregnancy had taken a toll on her sanity. Melinoe assured her cousin that it had not and that this is what they both wanted. They had a small yet lavish ceremony, and although Lesaonar changed his last name to Baenre (an act that caused Kyorlin to sulk for at least a month), it was Melinoe had been thrown into your family. You grew close to her and became someone she could rely on during her pregnancy, to drink as a placebo for her when she found out they were having triplets.

"Congratulations Mistress, how I can only share in my dear husband's sentiment and wish you the sheer blessing of triplets, or who knows with lolth's favor, you may even have quadruplets!" Melinoe smiled, the mischief gleaming in her eyes. How playfully slighted she had felt when you delivered one child, instead of the three she had been blessed with.

"What a wonderful thought, wife, I shall pray for quadruplets instead," Lesaonar smirked, and you shook your head in exasperation, a hand on your abdomen. You don't think you could handle Lythaera and then an additional four miniatures, you and Mintharas.

You continue to joke with Lesaonar and Melinoe, a few of Minthara's family members coming over to congratulate you personally. There’s a peaceful harmony to the moment, as family comes together to celebrate the new life growing inside you. Yet, there’s an undercurrent of tension—one that you feel when Kyorlin finally rises from his seat.

Kyorlin approaches, his movements deliberate and calm. His expression is softer than usual, but there’s a cool detachment in his eyes as he offers his hand to you.

“Congratulations,” he says quietly, his voice measured. “It is good to hear such joyous news. And with this, I’ll delay my trip to the front lines for a little while longer. I’d like to be here to see the child born.”

There’s something in his tone, something that doesn’t quite sit right with you. It’s as though he’s speaking of some distant obligation rather than his own flesh and blood. Still, you smile at him, pushing aside the strange feeling and putting it down to the seedling of doubt Minthara had planted in your mind.

“Thank you, Kyorlin,” you say sincerely, resting a hand on his arm. “It means a lot to me that you’d stay.”

Before you can say anything more, Minthara’s voice cuts in, sharp and edged with amusement. “Delaying your trip to the front lines, Kyorlin? Lolth has blessed us once more.”

You elbow Minthara, casting her a warning glance. She smirks but falls silent, though her eyes linger on Kyorlin with a knowing glint. It was no secret that Kyorlin had always been a bit of an outlier in the family—distant, detached, never fully committing to life in the House.

Kyorlin, however, doesn’t rise to Minthara’s bait. Instead, he nods politely at you both and returns to his seat, his movements calm, almost too calm, as if this entire moment were just another duty he must fulfill. As he sits, he folds his hands in his lap, staring at the table rather than engaging with the lively conversation around him.

You can’t help but wonder if his mind is elsewhere—far from the joy of family, but you soothe yourself thinking his thoughts are devoted to Lolth. It was no easy feat to become a male cleric of Lolth, but your brother had managed it, and for that, you were proud of him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The garden is alive with the gentle rustling of leaves and the delicate scent of night-blooming flowers. You sit on a cushioned bench, Lythaera nestled beside you, her little fingers tracing the veins of a petal with childlike curiosity. The two of you are wrapped in a rare moment of peace, bathed in the soft glow of faerie lights that illuminate the garden paths. You smile, watching as Lythaera giggles, reaching for a luminous butterfly that flutters just out of her grasp.

It’s then that you sense them—the subtle shift in the air, the almost inaudible whisper of footsteps approaching. You look up, and there they are: the Mistress's Guard, a group of young women who once stood by your side when they were mere children themselves, now grown into a disciplined and formidable sect.

At their head stands Verona, her dark eyes sharp and alert, her movements as graceful as a panther. Clad in sleek armor that glistens under the bioluminescence of the underdark, she steps forward and bows, her gaze unwavering.

“Mistress,” Verona greets, her voice soft yet carrying the unmistakable strength of command. “The guard congratulates you on the news of your pregnancy. It is a great honor to know that another of your blood will soon walk among us.” Her eyes flicker to Lythaera, and a warm, genuine smile crosses her face before she straightens again, her demeanor professional once more.

You offer her a warm smile, touched by the sincerity in her words. “Thank you, Verona. Your congratulations mean a great deal to me.”

Verona’s expression doesn’t waver, but there’s a slight shift in her stance, a hesitation, as if there’s more she wants to say. You tilt your head, curious, and wait for her to continue. She exchanges a brief glance with the other members of the guard, who stand at attention, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Then, as if coming to a decision, Verona speaks again.

“The Matron has issued orders for the guard to increase our presence around you, Mistress,” she says carefully. “Especially now that you are with child. She wants to ensure your safety, the safety of the unborn, and of course, the heiress, Lady Lythaera”

You blink, momentarily taken aback, before letting out a small, exasperated sigh. “Of course, she has,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head. “Thank you, Verona. I appreciate the care.”

The guard, however, doesn’t move to leave, and you feel their watchful eyes on you, as if waiting for something more. Realization dawns, and you can’t help but chuckle, despite the slight irritation that begins to creep into your chest. You turn back to Verona, arching an eyebrow.

“Let me guess,” you say dryly, “when you say you’re increasing your presence, you mean that Minthara has decided I cannot even be in my own garden with my daughter without a small army at my back?”

Verona’s lips twitch in the faintest hint of a smile, but she does not look away. “The Matron is… thorough in her concern,” she replies diplomatically. “She insists that we remain vigilant, especially given recent events.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Recent events,” you repeat, incredulous. “I’m hardly in any danger standing amongst roses with my daughter, Verona. I doubt the Seldarine are posing as fungi.”

“There are threats, Mistress, that lurk even in the safest of places,” Verona responds, her tone respectful but unyielding. “The Matron merely wishes to ensure that you, the child and the heiress are protected from all possible harm.”

You sigh, feeling a mix of warmth and exasperation at Minthara’s overprotectiveness.

“Minthara has always been… diligent,” you murmur, almost to yourself. You take a moment to study Verona’s face, the determined set of her jaw, and the unwavering loyalty in her eyes.

There’s something almost touching about it, the way she stands so ready to defend you, a far cry from the young girl who once followed you with wide, curious eyes. The girl you had to protect from her own mother. Valindra was long gone now, perished in a skirmish, no love was lost and no one had attended her funeral out of anything but duty.

“You’re all grown up now,” you say softly, your voice tinged with nostalgia. “I remember when you were but a child, always trailing behind me, insisting you’d be my protector one day.”

Verona’s expression softens, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of that young girl within her, her guard slipping ever so slightly.

“I made a promise, Mistress, we all did,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I intend to keep it. No matter how much time passes.”

You smile, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “I know. And I’m grateful for it. But you must understand, Verona—I do not need to be shadowed at every turn. I have always found strength in my independence, and I refuse to let that be stripped away, even now.”

Verona hesitates, clearly torn between her loyalty to you and her duty to Minthara.

“I understand, Mistress,” she finally says, though there’s a note of reluctance in her voice. “But… please, allow us to do our duty. If not for yourself, then for the heiress and the unborn child.”

You glance down at Lythaera, who has taken no notice of the conversation, still engrossed in her game of chasing the luminous butterflies. A soft sigh escapes you, and you nod, albeit reluctantly. “Very well. But please, tell Minthara that if I find you hiding in the shadows when I’m trying to take a bath, I’ll be having words with her.”

Verona can’t help but chuckle at that, and she bows once more. “Understood, Mistress. We will endeavor to respect your privacy… within reason.”

“Within reason,” you echo, shaking your head with a smile. “Very well, Verona. You may carry on, then.”

The guard disperses, though you can still feel their presence lingering at the edges of the garden, ever watchful. As you turn back to Lythaera, who now holds a butterfly delicately in her tiny hands, you feel a familiar warmth and exasperation rise in your chest. Minthara’s love for you was fierce, possessive, and sometimes overbearing—but it was always, always, there. And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but feel touched by it.

Even if it meant having an entire sect of guards breathing down your neck whenever you so much as stepped outside.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Minthara sits on the edge of the bed with Lythaera perched in front of her, the little girl fidgeting impatiently as her mother attempts to braid her hair. Minthara’s fingers are nimble but slightly clumsy—more accustomed to handling blades than delicate strands of hair—and her face is set in an expression of concentration as she tries to tame Lythaera's unruly curls. She lets out an exasperated sigh as yet another strand slips free from her grasp.

“You know,” Minthara grumbles, flicking her gaze to you as you fasten the last few clasps of your gown in front of the mirror, “we could have had a servant do this. It’s what they’re here for.”

You give her a pointed look, arching an eyebrow. “Minthara, if I hear you suggest that one more time, the anniversary ball will quickly become a divorce ball.”

Minthara lets out a dramatic huff, rolling her eyes in a way that reminds you so much of Lythaera when she’s being particularly stubborn.

“I know, I know,” she mutters, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “The Matron herself mustn’t raise a spoiled daughter.”

You walk over to them, your expression softening as you watch Minthara struggle with the braid.

“It’s not about spoiling her, my love,” you say gently, leaning down to kiss the top of Lythaera’s head. “It’s about teaching her that just because she’s of noble birth doesn’t mean she’s entitled to be waited on. She should understand the value of things, even the little things like having her hair done.”

Minthara sighs again, but there’s no real frustration in her voice, only a begrudging understanding.

“Yes, yes,” she murmurs, continuing to braid. She bends down to Lythaera’s level, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, little one, your mother is quite demanding. You’re lucky I love her as much as I do.”

Lythaera giggles, nodding vigorously. She is not entirely sure what at, but it makes her mother's smile widen.

“Oh, so it’s a conspiracy against me now, is it?” you tease, crossing your arms and tilting your head at Minthara. “Well, perhaps you should hurry up with that braid before I change my mind about that divorce.”

Minthara’s smile turns playful, her eyes shining with mischief.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she challenges, finishing off the braid with a flourish. She secures it with a delicate ribbon, the same shade of violet as Lythaera’s dress, and sits back with a satisfied smirk. “There. Finished.”

“Thank oo!" Lythaera chirps, turning around and beaming up at her.

“Anything for you, my little warrior,” Minthara replies, ruffling her daughter’s hair affectionately before helping her off the bed.

As Lythaera scurries off to fetch her toy sword (which she insisted on bringing, despite your best attempts to convince her otherwise), you turn back to the mirror for a final check of your gown. You smooth down the fabric, the rich, deep green silk catching the light in waves.

The gown is a masterpiece, fitted to perfection, with delicate embroidery of silver spider webs trailing down the sides, shimmering subtly as you move. The neckline plunges daringly, while the sleeves drape elegantly off your shoulders, and the fabric clings to your body in a way that leaves little to the imagination.

When you finally turn to face Minthara, you find her staring at you, utterly transfixed. Her eyes roam over every inch of you, from the soft curls that cascade down your back to the curve of your waist, and the way the gown hugs your form like a second skin. It’s as if she’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“By Lolth,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “You look… exquisite.”

You can feel the heat of her gaze as it lingers on you, and your heart flutters in response.

“It’s just a dress,” you say lightly, though the way she’s looking at you makes it feel like so much more.

“It’s not the dress,” Minthara murmurs, closing the distance between you. “It’s you.” She reaches out, her fingers tracing the line of your collarbone, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “You look like a goddess.”

"Don't let Lolth hear you say that," You smile, your cheeks warming under her intense gaze, and you can’t help but tease her just a little. “I thought you’d be used to this by now,” you say, tilting your head up to meet her eyes. “We’ve been married for years.”

Minthara shakes her head, a soft, reverent smile tugging at her lips.

“And every day, you still manage to take my breath away,” she whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, slow and lingering. Her hand finds the small of your back, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you forget about the ball, the responsibilities, and the eyes that will be on you tonight. All that matters is her—this woman who holds your heart, who looks at you as if you hung the stars in the sky.

You pull back with a soft chuckle, pressing your forehead against hers. “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, we’ll never make it to this ball.”

Minthara groans, but she’s grinning, her eyes sparkling with love. “I suppose we should make an appearance,” she concedes, though it’s clear she’d much rather stay right here with you. “It is, after all, our night.”

“Our night,” you agree, pressing one last kiss to her lips. “And we’ll make it one to remember.”

Minthara nods, reluctantly letting you go, but not before trailing her fingers down your arm, savoring the feel of your skin one last time.

“Come, my love,” she murmurs, offering you her arm. “Let us show them what true power looks like.”

The grand hall of House Baenre is resplendent with shimmering lights and elaborate decorations, its high vaulted ceilings draped with silk banners bearing the house’s sigil: a spider, woven from threads of silver and black, its eyes glistening as if they truly held the light of the stars. Nobles and high-ranking drow from all corners of the Underdark gather, their opulent attire sparkling in the light of the chandelier made entirely of glowing faerie fire. The air is thick with the hum of hushed whispers and the clinking of crystal goblets, but all noise falls to a hush as the herald steps forward to announce your arrival.

“Presenting, Matron Minthara Baenre, her Mistress, and their daughter, the young heiress of House Baenre, Lythaera,” the herald proclaims, his voice echoing through the hall.

You stand at the top of the staircase with Minthara at your side and Lythaera holding your hand. You feel her tiny fingers gripping yours tightly, her eyes widening as the crowd below turns to look up at you. The weight of so many eyes, so many expectations, is daunting, and you can see the flicker of nervousness cross her face as she tries to hide behind your gown, the silken fabric bunching around her as she presses against your leg. You kneel down to her level, keeping your voice soft and reassuring.

“Lythaera, you are a Baenre,” you whisper, brushing a stray curl from her face. “You are strong, and you are loved. And everyone here is waiting to see just how wonderful you are. Will you show them?”

Her large eyes meet yours, searching, and slowly she nods. You give her a warm smile and a gentle kiss on her forehead before standing back up. Taking a deep breath, Lythaera steps forward, no longer hiding, and you feel a swell of pride as she walks beside you, her little chin held high just as you taught her.

Minthara watches this exchange with a soft smile tugging at her lips, her eyes glimmering with pride and love. She gives your hand a small squeeze before you both begin your descent down the grand staircase, with Lythaera walking beside you. The crowd parts as you reach the bottom, and you feel their eyes on you, filled with awe, respect, and, in some cases, envy. There is a sense of power in that moment, knowing that you and Minthara have built something truly formidable, something worth revering.

The room bursts into applause as you reach the floor, nobles bowing their heads in deference. The sound is overwhelming, but Lythaera stands tall, no longer shrinking under the weight of it. You guide her through the crowd toward Lesaonar and Melinoe, who are standing near one of the grand pillars, their triplets bouncing excitedly as they spot their little cousin.

“Look who’s here!” Lesaonar says, scooping up Lythaera in his arms as she giggles. “The little lady of the hour!”

Lythaera laughs, her earlier shyness melting away in the presence of her cousins. She reaches out, tugging at the braid of one of the boys who sticks his tongue out at her, which only makes her laugh harder.

“Unka!” she squeals in delight, “too tight!”

“Am I?” Lesaonar chuckles, setting her back down. “I suppose I should be more careful with a future matron, hmm?”

“You’ll spoil her rotten,” Melinoe chides with a smile, though there’s warmth in her eyes as she looks at Lythaera. Her own daughter tugs at her skirts, eager to play with her cousin, and soon the four children are off to one side, chattering excitedly.

Lesaonar leans closer to you, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I saw Kyorlin skulking about earlier. He’s here somewhere, though I doubt he’ll stay in one place long enough for anyone to get a word in.”

“He always did like to make himself scarce at these events,” you reply with a knowing smile.

Melinoe arches an eyebrow, smirking as she sips her wine. “I’m just impressed he made the effort to show up at all,” she comments dryly.

Lesaonar shoots her a light scowl. “He’s family,” he says, his tone brooking no argument. “And he’ll always be welcome here, no matter what.”

The exchange is tense, but it’s quickly smoothed over as Minthara leans down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll mingle,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing against your arm, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Try not to get too caught up in Lesaonar's nonsense."

You smirk, leaning into her touch. “As if anyone else could ever compare,” you tease, earning a satisfied hum from Minthara before she straightens and steps into the crowd, already the center of attention.

However, the atmosphere at the ball shifts abruptly as heated words are exchanged between two drow noblemen. Their argument, initially nothing more than a raised voice or two, quickly escalates into shoving, and it’s not long before they’re on the verge of drawing weapons.

In the midst of the chaos, Sarae—who had been standing nearby, the five year old seemingly attracred to chaos—gets knocked over by one of them, landing hard on the ground. Her cry of pain rings out, and she scrambles to her feet, rushing to Lesaonar and Melinoe with tears in her eyes, clutching her head where she was struck. Lesaonar instantly scoops her up, his eyes darkening as he glances over at the commotion.

“Shh, my little one,” he murmurs, checking her for injuries. “You’re safe now.”

Melinoe soothes Sarae’s tears, holding her close as she glares at the noblemen who caused the injury.

“Fools,” she mutters under her breath. “Can’t even keep their tempers in check at a celebration. May they face the full wrath of our house."

It’s at this moment that Minthara steps forward, her expression icy and commanding as she forces her way between the two men. Her voice, sharp and authoritative, cuts through the noise with ease.

“Enough!” The hall falls silent, every guest turning to look as she stands between the two men, her gaze flickering with barely restrained fury. “Where are your wives?” she demands, her tone leaving no room for disobedience.

The two noblewomen step forward, both looking pale and uneasy. They bow their heads, muttering apologies for their husbands' behavior, but Minthara’s patience is already at an end.

“If you cannot control your obstinate charges,” she says coldly, “then you will duel to the death in their stead. Perhaps that will teach them to think twice before causing a scene.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing. “And as today is such a momentous occasion, the husband of the failure will be sacrificed to Lolth.”

The women’s faces drain of color, but a single, withering glance from Minthara silences any protest before it can leave their lips. They bow their heads in submission, accepting their fate with the resignation that only comes from understanding the consequences of disobedience in drow society.

The staff move quickly, clearing an area in the center of the hall and bringing forth two ornate seats for you and Minthara. As you take your place beside your wife, Lythaera climbs onto Minthara’s lap, settling comfortably as if this were all part of a regular evening. The crowd presses closer, eager to witness the spectacle, their whispers buzzing with anticipation.

The crowd goes silent as the two noblewomen step into the cleared space, the dim lighting of the hall casting long shadows across their faces. The air crackles with tension, each movement amplified by the stillness. You lean forward in your seat, your eyes never leaving the pair as they face each other, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. The stakes are clear: victory means survival; defeat means death—and the sacrifice of their husbands to Lolth.

Lesaonar shifts beside you, murmuring, “Twenty gold on the one to the left.” There’s a glint of excitement in his eyes, but you shake your head, suppressing a smile.

“You shouldn’t be encouraging gambling in front of the children,” you tease, but your tone holds no real reprimand. Instead, you reach out to shake his hand, sealing the bet. “I’ll take the one on the right.”

The noblewomen draw their weapons—thin, wickedly sharp blades that gleam under the flickering torchlight. They begin to circle one another, slow and deliberate, their steps echoing in the hushed hall. Every eye is on them, and you can feel the anticipation building, the way the crowd holds its breath as the duel begins.

The first strike comes quickly, the woman on the left lunging forward with a rapid thrust. Her opponent parries deftly, steel clashing against steel in a flurry of sparks. They disengage just as fast, circling each other again, their eyes locked in a predatory stare. It’s clear from the first exchange that they’re evenly matched, and you find yourself leaning forward, drawn into the dance of blades.

Minthara’s hand rests on Lythaera’s back, steadying her as their daughter watches in fascination.

“Mama,” Lythaera whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of the duel. “Why do they move so slowly?”

Minthara smiles faintly, not taking her eyes off the fight. “They’re not moving slowly, my love. They’re being cautious, looking for any weakness.”

Lythaera nods thoughtfully, her brow furrowing as she continues to watch. “One die?” she asks.

“Yes,” Minthara replies softly. “But that is the nature of a duel.”

The tempo of the fight increases, and the noblewoman on the right—your choice—presses forward, her movements quick and precise. She launches a series of rapid strikes, forcing her opponent to step back, parrying desperately to keep up. You can see the strain in the woman’s eyes, the fear creeping in as she realizes she’s being pushed to her limit. Sweat beads on her forehead, and you can hear her labored breathing over the faint hum of whispered prayers from the audience.

“Come on,” you mutter under your breath, willing your champion to press the advantage. “You’ve got her.”

Lesaonar smirks, shaking his head. “It’s too early to call,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the duel. “Patience, my dear.”

Just as he says that, the woman on the left finds an opening. With a sudden twist, she shifts her weight and lands a shallow cut across her opponent’s forearm. It’s a minor wound, barely a scratch, but the blood that trickles down her arm is enough to draw gasps from the crowd. Your heart skips a beat, and you catch the triumphant gleam in Lesaonar’s eyes.

But your champion isn’t finished. She uses the momentum from the strike to pivot, delivering a vicious slash that catches her opponent off guard. The woman on the left stumbles back, clutching her side, and you see the momentary flicker of fear in her eyes. She’s been wounded—a deep gash that stains her robes with crimson—and she struggles to regain her footing, her breathing now ragged and uneven.

Lesaonar curses under his breath, and you grin, unable to hide your satisfaction.

“Still think she’s going to win?” you whisper, and he scowls playfully.

“Beginner’s luck,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.

The woman on the right presses her advantage, her strikes becoming more aggressive, more relentless. The clang of steel echoes in the hall, each clash reverberating through the crowd like a drumbeat. Sweat drips down her face, her jaw clenched with determination as she drives her opponent back, step by step.

And then, with one final, decisive move, she finds her opening. Her blade slips past her opponent’s defenses, piercing her side with a sickening crunch. The woman on the left lets out a choked gasp, her eyes widening in shock as the weapon twists, cutting deep. She drops to her knees, the strength draining from her body, and the hall goes deathly quiet.

“It’s over,” Minthara murmurs, her voice carrying a note of finality. Lythaera watches with wide eyes, clutching at her mother’s robes as the defeated woman slumps forward, blood pooling around her.

You turn to Lesaonar with a triumphant smile.

“I believe that’s twenty gold,” you say sweetly. He groans, shaking his head as he reaches into his pocket and hands over the coins.

“I’ll get it back next time,” he grumbles, but there’s a lightness to his tone, a respect for the victor’s prowess that he can’t deny.

As the victor stands over her fallen foe, panting heavily, the hall erupts into applause, a mixture of awe and approval. The victor bows her head, her shoulders trembling with exhaustion and relief. You can’t help but feel a surge of pride, knowing that even amidst the chaos and danger of drow politics, you and Minthara have cultivated a place where power is respected, and strength is always rewarded.

“She did well,” Minthara murmurs, her eyes meeting yours. There’s a hint of pride in her gaze, not for the woman’s victory but for you—for the life you’ve built, the power you wield, and the unwavering strength you’ve shown tonight.

The air thickens with anticipation as the fallen noblewoman's husband is dragged into the center of the hall, his eyes wild with terror. He thrashes against the hands that hold him, but it’s futile—he’s already lost, and everyone here knows it. The crowd hushes, watching with bated breath, waiting for what comes next. Minthara rises from her seat, her expression cold and commanding, and gestures toward you with a graceful wave of her hand.

“My love,” she intones, her voice carrying across the hall, “the honors are yours.”

A thrill runs down your spine, the familiar surge of power bubbling up from within you. You step forward, and the crowd parts like water, their eyes widening as they make way. Lythaera squirms with excitement in Minthara’s lap, her little hands clapping together in delight.

“Mami’s magic!” she whispers, her voice tinged with awe. Minthara nods, a proud smile playing on her lips, her eyes never leaving you.

You come to a stop before the bound man, his breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. There’s a flicker of defiance in his eyes, but it’s drowned out by the overwhelming fear that radiates from him. You tilt your head, considering him for a moment, before reaching out with a wave of your hand. Invisible threads of your magic wrap around him, binding him tightly. He tries to scream, but you silence him with a flick of your wrist, his mouth snapping shut as if sewn together by an unseen force.

The crowd watches in rapt attention as you begin the ritual, your voice low and melodic as you chant the ancient words of offering to Lolth. You weave your magic around him, threads of shimmering silk that pulse with divine energy. They wrap around his limbs, his torso, tightening with every word, every syllable you speak. He struggles, but it only serves to tighten the binds further, and you feel the intoxicating rush of power as your magic takes hold.

Lythaera leans forward, her eyes wide, completely entranced. “Mami,” she whispers, “she’s so strong.”

“Yes, she is,” Minthara replies, her voice soft and full of pride. “Watch closely, little spider. This is what it means to be powerful.”

You reach the pinnacle of your incantation, the words thrumming through you, and you lift your hands high, threads of your divine silk shimmering in the dim light. The man’s eyes widen, his muffled screams growing frantic, but there’s no escape now. With one swift motion, you plunge the threads into him, and his body convulses, the life draining from him in a brilliant flash of light. The silk threads glow, absorbing his essence, and you feel the surge of power as the offering is accepted by Lolth. The air hums with energy, the room pulsing with the divine acknowledgment of your sacrifice.

The crowd erupts into applause, cheers ringing out, voices raised in praise of your power and skill. You take a step back, breathing heavily, your heart pounding in your chest, and as the exhilaration of the moment washes over you, you feel a smile tug at your lips. You offer a humble bow, acknowledging the admiration of those gathered, and the applause grows louder, echoing off the stone walls.

As you straighten, your eyes catch Kyorlin’s across the room. He’s standing in the shadows, his expression tight with displeasure, his lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, he doesn’t realize you’re looking at him, but when your eyes meet, he quickly shifts, schooling his features into a mask of indifference. It’s an attempt to hide whatever he’s feeling, but you saw it—the flicker of disapproval, the hint of something more. You hold his gaze for a moment longer, letting him know you saw, and then you offer him a small, knowing smile before turning away.

You return to your seat beside Minthara, who reaches out to take your hand, her grip warm and reassuring.

“You were magnificent,” she murmurs, leaning in close.

“And you were as commanding as ever,” you reply, your fingers intertwining with hers. Lythaera, still perched on Minthara’s lap, reaches out to you, her eyes shining with pride and admiration.

“Amazing, mami!” she says, her voice brimming with excitement.

You smile, cupping her cheek gently. “Thank you, little one. It’s all for you.”

The applause continues to echo around you, the hall filled with the sound of reverence and fear. And in that moment, surrounded by those who would either bow to your power or be crushed beneath it, you feel the full weight of your strength, your love, and your family—unbreakable, invincible, and forever bound by the silk threads of fate.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Bigggggg chapter for y'all, hope you guys enjoyed the time skip, I wanted to give a little bit of everything - I also get I have introduced so many OCs but I just can't help myself, if anyone has any questions on the series, please flood my inbox !

Please let me know what you think, I cherish every like, reblog and comment. Love you all ! - Seluney xox

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[megsironthrone]

Fated

Based on this request: Can you do a Robert Baratheon x stark!reader. The reader fostered with Ned at the vale and she gets pregnant with mya stone but a couple of months after the birth the reader was sent away the to foster a another house and she took mya with her and Robert has to marry Lyanna but he doesn’t love her he loves the reader and they reunited at the day rheagar crown Lyanna and Robert doesn’t want to marry her anymore and so they changed it so that he marry the reader. I hope that makes sense.

Here you are, lovely! The request was changed just slightly. *Familiar characters are NEVER mine!*

Warnings: AU, angsty. fluffy. Pre-show events AS romantic as I can possibly make Robert.

Pairings/Characters: Robert Baratheon x fem!Stark reader, Lyanna Stark x Rhaegar Targaryen

You watched with tears in your eyes as the Vale grew smaller in the distance. You clutched little Mya to your chest while she cooed. You knew your guardian would be livid at the fact that you had given birth to Robert Baratheon's bastard, but you never thought they'd send you away, especially since Robert didn't even know of the child's existence. They sent you away from the only home you'd ever known to be fostered elsewhere until someone could marry you off. It would be a while before you saw Robert again.

*time skip*

       "Stop fidgeting." You instantly stilled, "Forgive me, Lady Olenna." Lady Olenna Tyrell had been the one to take you and Mya in after your former guardian pushed you out. You had been “raised” alongside her son, Mace, who was older than you. Olenna sighed. She had come to love you and Mya like her own family over the time you'd been a ward of Highgarden. But she knew you were anxious about this visit to King’s Landing. 

When word had reached Highgarden of Robert’s victory and coronation as King of Westeros, you had felt your heart leap with joy that he was alive. Only your heart sank once more when you heard that he was now betrothed to Lyanna, your sister. You loved Lyanna, of course. She was a fierce woman to be admired and was certainly a match for Robert. That didn’t mean you had to like it. In truth, even after all that time, you still loved Robert. Your sister didn’t as far as you knew. 

When the wheelhouse stopped outside the Red Keep, you let out a breath, gathered up little Mya, and stepped out after Lady Olenna. It only took a moment for you to hear, “Sister!” Then you felt Lyanna’s arms wrapping around you and your daughter. “I have missed you!” You attempted to smile at her. You knew it wasn’t her idea to marry the man you loved. 

Someone clearing their throat had Lyanna pulling back from you. You glanced up to see someone who could only be Rhaegar Targaryen standing there. You curtsied before letting your eyes travel to the man next to him. Robert. His blue eyes were riveted on you for a moment before they began bouncing between you and Mya. You greeted the new king as was customary with a “Your Grace,” but your eyes never left his face as you watched him piece together your little secret. 

“Lady Y/N,” Rhaegar broke the awkward tension, “Welcome to King’s Landing.” You gave him a tight smile as Lyanna took your elbow to lead you inside. You could feel Robert’s gaze on you. Lyanna led you to the chambers made up for you and finally let go of your elbow. She glanced around before plopping down on your bed. She looked uncomfortable and you couldn’t tell if it was because she hated being trapped indoors on such a nice day or if she had something to say.

After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke, “I’m sorry.” Your brows drew together in confusion. “What for?” Mya fussed a bit, but you calmed her as you waited for your sister to explain. “Marrying Robert. It was not my idea. I-I know how much you loved him.” You gave her a soft smile. “You do? I didn’t think anyone knew, but I do know that you would never hurt me like this. You never liked the idea of marriage and I’m certain you-” you cut off when you noticed her cheeks tinted pink. 

“What?” Lyanna bit her lip as she motioned for you to come closer. When you drew near, she whispered, “I don’t want to marry him, Y/N.” You smiled and nodded, but she continued, “Because I’m in love with someone else. W-We plan to run off before the wedding.” Your eyes widened, but before you could speak, there was a knock on the door. You hugged Mya a little closer as Lyanna called out and the door opened. 

Robert stood on the other side, his eyes meeting yours once again. “Out,” he stated, causing Lyanna to raise a brow. “It’s alright, Lyanna. We’ll speak again later.”  Your sister sighed, but left the room all the same. Before she walked out of sight, she whispered something to Robert.

Once Lyanna had left, you spoke up. “You’re angry.” Robert’s blue eyes darkened, “Furious, more like. Why the hells didn’t you tell me?!” You rolled your eyes. “When? I didn’t know the last time we saw each other. Once it was discovered, the septa watched me like a hawk to try and determine who the father was. I-I wouldn’t say. I knew how important your titles were as the eldest son and I didn’t know what would happen to you if it got out you’d fathered a bastard. By the time I was free to send a raven, word came that you were being crowned king. You didn’t need to be saddled with the scandal.”

“That wasn’t only your choice to make, Y/N!” You huffed and set Mya down on the floor to play. “King or not, you do NOT yell at me, Robert Baratheon. Especially not in front of my daughter.” Robert opened and closed his fists a few times in an action you knew he used to calm himself. You were one of the few people he would never hit. 

“And now you’re betrothed to my sister. You will marry and have children with her. I expect nothing from you, Robert. Nor will Mya.” Robert’s brows furrowed. He looked deep in thought for a moment until little Mya decided to stand on shaky legs and wobble her way over to him. He looked down when he felt her fall into his legs. 

Without thinking twice, Robert scooped up the little girl in his arms. She gave him a toothy grin and laid her head on his chest with her tiny fist in her mouth. Robert looked up at you and then back down at his daughter. “Hells!” he nearly yelled, but changed his tone to a softer one so as not to scare Mya, “I’m the king, right?” You arched a brow and nodded, unsure where he was going with this. “I say who gets married or not. I won’t marry Lyanna. I don’t want to.”

“Robert, you can’t just break off an engagement like that!”

“Yes he/I can!” Robert and Lyanna, who had decided to burst into the room at that moment, replied in unison. You jumped a little and Mya began to fuss. Robert froze and you stifled a giggle. This man, this hardened warrior, looked absolutely petrified at the crying child in his arms. You swiftly took her from him and shushed her. 

Robert glanced at Lyanna and then at Rhaegar, who stood behind her in the doorway. “Planned on running off, did ya?” Robert asked and Rhaegar’s eyes widened. Lyanna jutted out her chin in defiance. “Yes, if you must know. Now we don’t have to because you’re going to marry my sister and have a dozen more babies while Rhaegar and I marry and leave to find our own adventures.”

“Do I not get a say in this?” you asked, bouncing Mya. Lyanna looked at you. “I mean, I guess Robert could always marry Cersei Lannister and you could find some lord to marry. Maybe Mace Tyrell.” You grimaced at the thought and Lyanna continued, “Besides, Lyanna of Houses Stark and Targaryen suits me better. You and Robert were always meant to be.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at your sister before meeting Robert’s gaze once more. 

“Well? What are you waiting for?” you asked after a moment and Robert’s expression shifted to one of confusion. You laughed. “I positively demand a proper proposal from the king if I am to marry him.” Lyanna and Rhaegar quickly left the room after Lyanna took her niece with your permission. 

Once the door closed behind them, Robert met your gaze. “Come on, Y/N.” You crossed your arms over your chest with a smirk on your lips. Robert was absolutely not a romantic person so this was torture for him. “Oh, just marry me, woman!” At your unimpressed look, he added, “Please. You know I love you.” You beamed. “That’s all I needed to hear.” You stepped closer to him and kissed him deeply.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

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[caitified]

pt 2 please:)

https://www.tumblr.com/caitified/765379100953264128/love-ur-fics-can-you-please-write-one-where-you?source=share

more than friends ( friends part 2 )

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none | part 1 here

it’s been weeks since caitlin walked away, and every day felt longer than the last. you kept replaying her words in your mind, questioning whether those moments together on the golf course had meant anything at all. life continued around you, but everything felt slightly muted without her presence. each day was a reminder of the stolen kiss, the unspoken feelings that now hung heavily in the air.

one evening, you’re on the couch, scrolling through your phone, mindlessly tapping through social media. just as you begin to lose hope that caitlin will reach out, there’s a knock at your door. your heart skips as you rise, and you open the door to find caitlin standing there, looking like she’s been through an emotional storm. her hair is slightly tousled, and her eyes hold a mix of vulnerability and determination that makes your heart race.

“i couldn’t stay away,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “i thought space would give me answers, but all it did was remind me how much i miss you.”

a wave of relief washes over you, mixed with the thrill of hope. “caitlin…” you start, but the words catch in your throat, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions.

“i ended things with connor,” she continues, her gaze steady and serious. “it wasn’t easy, but i realized i can’t keep pretending. you’re what i want, and i need you to know that.”

you feel your heart leap in your chest, a mixture of disbelief and joy. “are you sure? i don’t want you to feel rushed or pressured. i know it’s a lot to process.”

“i’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” she replies, stepping closer, her warmth enveloping you. “being away from you made me realize that i can’t ignore my feelings anymore. i can’t ignore you.”

before you can respond, she reaches for your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours, sending sparks through you. “i know i hurt you by pulling away, and i’m so sorry for that,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. “but i’m here now, and i want to make this right.”

you take a deep breath, searching her eyes for any hint of doubt. “caitlin, if this is what you truly want, then i’m here for you. i want you to be happy, whether that’s with me or someone else.”

“but i want to be happy with you,” she insists, stepping even closer, her gaze unwavering. “you mean so much to me, and i can’t keep pretending otherwise.”

your heart swells at her words, and you pull her into an embrace, feeling the familiar comfort of her body against yours. “i’ve missed you,” you whisper into her hair, breathing in her scent, grounding yourself in this moment.

“i’ve missed you too,” she murmurs, pulling back to look into your eyes. “i want to start over. no more hiding, no more uncertainty. just us.”

you nod, overwhelmed with emotion. “i would love that. i just want to enjoy being with you and take things one step at a time. no pressure, just us figuring things out together.”

“slow sounds perfect,” she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “i want to really get to know you—not just as caitlin clark, the athlete, but as the person you are. the girl who made my heart race on the golf course.”

as the sun sets outside your window, casting a warm glow around you, everything feels right. there’s a sense of relief and excitement as you realize this is just the beginning. you pull caitlin back in for another kiss, deeper this time, both of you losing yourselves in each other as the world fades away.

after a few moments, you pull back, breathless but smiling. “what’s next for us?”

“next?” she asks, a playful grin creeping onto her lips. “let’s have a real date. a day just for us, no distractions.”

you nod eagerly, the thrill of possibility buzzing in the air. “i’d love that. how about a picnic at the park?”

“perfect,” she replies, her excitement infectious. “i’ll bring the food. you bring the playlist.”

as you both start to plan, the tension that once hung in the air dissipates, replaced by laughter and lightness. you can feel the bond between you strengthening, built on trust and a shared understanding of what you both want.

that weekend, you meet caitlin at the park, the sun shining brightly overhead. she’s brought a basket filled with your favorite snacks and a cozy blanket. you spread it out beneath a tree, the warmth of the sun wrapping around you like a hug.

as you eat and chat about everything and nothing, you can’t help but admire how effortlessly the conversation flows. caitlin shares funny stories from her time at iowa, and you reciprocate with tales from your own college days. you laugh until your sides hurt, the sound of her laughter filling you with a sense of joy you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

“remember that time we tried to pull an all-nighter studying for finals?” caitlin asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “and you fell asleep in the middle of the library?”

you chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully. “i remember you laughing at me instead of waking me up.”

“well, can you blame me? you looked ridiculous sprawled out on the table with books all around you. i thought you’d never live that down.”

you shake your head, laughing. “and yet, here we are, all these years later. you’re still making fun of me.”

“only because it’s one of my favorite memories,” she says, her tone softening. “it was one of those moments that made me realize how much i value our friendship. and now…”

“now?” you prompt, your heart racing.

“now i get to make new memories with you,” she finishes, her smile warm and genuine.

as the afternoon turns to evening, you both settle back on the blanket, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink. caitlin leans against you, her head resting on your shoulder, and in that moment, everything feels perfect. there’s no past to worry about, no complications, just the two of you and the future stretching out ahead.

“can i ask you something?” she says after a moment of comfortable silence.

“anything,” you reply, your heart pounding.

“what do you see for us?” she asks, her voice sincere.

you take a deep breath, knowing this is a crucial moment. “i see us exploring this together, figuring things out one day at a time. i want to be there for you, to support you, and to make this work. i want to build something real between us.”

caitlin smiles, her eyes shining with hope. “i want that too. i want to be with you, not just as a fleeting moment but as something lasting.”

you squeeze her hand, feeling a warmth spread through you. “then let’s do this together. no rushing, just us figuring it out.”

“together,” she echoes, her voice filled with determination.

as the sun sets, you both lean in for another kiss, a sweet promise of what’s to come.