#oh 'the dread gets to you in your first waking hour and in the hours between night and early morning' like what is that. get a fucking grip

[nightmare-niko]

Selfish Waltz [Bang Chan x reader]

warnings: toxic! Ish relationship, over working, fighting, angst

A/n: I know I said I was gonna write a Jake fic next and I am!! That one’s on the way! I just couldn’t get this idea out of my mind so… here u go!!

Yeah, 아무것도 아니란 듯 그저 우리는 춤을 추며 밤을 보내고 Yeah, 억지스러운 손짓에 뻔한 춤사위 다음 step은 무의미한걸 Yeah, 달아오를 것 하나 없어, 이 무도회는 무미건조 Yeah, 맹목적으로 오늘도 또 반복해, 매번 똑같아 우리만의

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Yet another long tiring day at work without a word from your boyfriend. It didn't bother you much anymore, honestly. Back when It had first started when the ‘honeymoon’ phase ended-- You'd beg for any kind of acknowledgment. you'd tell Chris that you didn't even need a conversation— just to know that he was okay. But these days you do not even bother. He didn't text, neither did you. It was the new normal.

You pulled your car into your parking spot in your apartment's parking garage. Chris’ car was in his assigned spot right next to yours, he was home early. You'd been spending so much time at your studio-- it was always dark when you came home. But it was usually passed midnight when Chris would come through the door.

When he started picking up work on the weekends— you did too. No point going crazy in an empty apartment when you could get so much work done.

You sigh to yourself as the hum of your car drowns out. the slow dread creeping into you. You honestly can't remember the last time you and Chris had an actual conversation. Or the last time you had a date night, or slept together-- you'd fallen too used to the routine. as if it meant nothing. the fact the man you loved couldn't even give you the time of day meant… nothing.

You check the clock, 9:45 pm. If you were lucky - Chan would be in his home studio working. He won't notice the bags under your eyes — or how you look like the walking dead. if he could overwork himself— so could you. Maybe you worked so well because of your shared stubborn, and unhealthy hard work ethic. Silence ate away at you as you used the elevator to your floor. Your heart pounded erratically as you entered the Keycode to your door. The entrance light was flicked on and Chris’ belongings Were Scattered around the area. You cursed at him under your breath for not putting his things away. you kick them out of the way as you take off your shoes, bag, and jacket and put them in the proper spot.

"You're home late, I didn't realize you changed your hours." You freeze as you come Face to face with Chris. Damnit.

You stammer awkwardly, "Well I didn't, I just kind of stay as long as I feel like staying.” You walk around him and into the Kitchen.

Chris Follows you, "Still you never stay this late.”

You sigh, enthusiastically opening the Fridge and looking into it. I've been coming home this late for months Chris. you're just never home to notice.”

“oh c'mon baby, don't be like that. You know the kids, and I are busy working on our comeback.”

You close the fridge empty-handed. "I'm not being like anything. You're busy, I am too. It's not that big of a deal." You avoid his gaze, electing to give up on your search for food.

“You look tired,"

You Sigh, again. “I am tired. I had a long day." You try to get around him for a second time, but he stops you.

"Have you been taking care of yourself?"

Your already thin patience is beginning to grow thinner. "I don't know, Chris, have I?" You feel yourself beginning to crack. "You're gone when I wake up and you come home when I'm asleep. Ask me that when you start taking care of yourself." You push by him before any more harsh words get thrown at him.

You don't expect him to follow you, today's short outburst will most likely be completely Ignored by Chris — Just as all of your other ones have. You enter the bathroom for a well-needed shower. Your muscles ached and screamed from the dance you worked so hard on choreographing For your YouTube channel. You'd been putting your all into it ever since your boyfriend Started coming home late. Maybe Chris was right, you hadn't really been taking care of yourself. But that didn't matter, You had to finish your project.

Steam billowed from your bathroom door as you made your way to your room For bed.

You hadn't even noticed your boyfriend on your shared bed until you turned around after putting on your pajamas.

The room is silent as you do your Skincare. Your mind, however, is far from it. You didn't understand why you two had ended up like this. Even on his busiest and hardest days before - he'd never go a whole day without texting you - or telling you about his day and how much he missed you.

Maybe he was seeing someone behind your back...

No - nothing about any of his recent behavior leads you to sincerely believe that.

Maybe he just doesn't love you anymore.

But if that was the case why hasn't he just left?

You catch a stray tear falling down your cheek. You can't cry- there's no use.

•

You wake once again to an empty bed. The sheets beside you are cold, he probably left before sunrise. You pat around on your nightstand for your phone to check the time. Damn - you had overslept. Slowly, you got out of bed. No use wasting the whole day. Maybe you'd treat yourself to a coffee at your favorite café-- Chris’ favorite café. After getting dressed, you packed your backpack for work. Since you had gotten a late start you'd have to compensate by staying later. Right as you go to leave, your phone begins to ring- ‘Channie🤍’ lights up your phone screen, along with a picture of your boyfriend and his adorable dog Berry. you consider ignoring the call completely, but you can't bring yourself to. You answer the call,

“Hello?”

"Hey..." his voice is small, “didn't think you'd answer.”

You swear you hear your heart crack. "I'll always answer when you call, channie. What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…”

"Just what? Chris?”

There's a beat of silence before he continues, “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

You laugh softly, and for a moment, it feels like you haven't been icing each other out for the past few months. “Well here I am, I'm leaving for work, though. I'm staying late so don't wait ор, okay?”

"Later than yesterday??" His concern is noticeable, even through the phone.

"I don't know… maybe?” Oh, here he goes “why?”

"I just missed you, that's all… Hey, maybe we can do something together this weekend?”

“We’ll see Chris— I have to go now though.”

“Okay…” There’s silence on the line for a moment "I love you, always.”

"I love you too, Chris, always.” You hesitate to hang up but eventually bring yourself to hit the red button. The line goes dead and you let out a shaky breath.

It's a little past midnight when you come home. You're surprised to see Chan waiting for you in the living room. "I thought I told you not to wait.”

He ignores your statement, “Did you eat?”

the question stuns you, "Yeah-" You lied a little you had a snack during lunchtime and some coffee.

He gets up off of the sofa with a disappointed look on his face, “You need to eat baby. You are a dancer, you need energy.”

You scoff, "Why are you talking to me like I don't say this all the time for you to just ignore me?"

"c mon. Y/N, that's different.”

"How exactly? I want you to explain to me how this" You gesture between the two of you— ”Is different than what you did not even six months ago?? How is it when you're busy I have no right to show my concern but when I'm busy you get on my ass??" You feel your blood start to boil.

"Baby please-"

"It's like we have on good streak and then you're back to Ignoring me-- I'm sick of it Christopher. you haven't kissed me in weeks, we haven't done out in almost a year— I mean you don't even touch me anymore, Chris! If you want to break up with me just do it! I'm sick of this stupid dance we're doing!" Tears begin to pool, in your eyes.

He takes a step towards you, “Baby no— I don't— I'd *never. I'd never even think about breaking up with you. I love you.”

You throw your hands up in defeat. "Then I don't know what to do anymore Chris." Your voice cracks pathetically as you try your hardest to not sob. “This morning was the first time you've said it in months! What else am I supposed to think?!"

“I know-- I know and I'm sorry." He pulls you into him, "But please don't hurt yourself because of me. you need rest. proper rest.” Chan wipes your tears with his thumb. "I'll do better. I promise will. But you have to promise me that you'll Stop overworking yourself. I will too - for you, for us.”

Your vision is blurred From Your tears. “You promise?” You choke out.

"Promise,” he nods. patting your head calmingly. "How about I make you something and then we can go to bad? then tomorrow, I'm all yours.”

You nod gently. Chan takes your hand and leads you into the kitchen. He lifts you up to sit on the counter. You watch him lovingly as he prepares food for you. You eat together in the calm of your Kitchen, you honestly feel like you're dreaming.

When the two of you settle into bed together he holds you tightly. for the first time in months-- he holds you as you slip away into Slumber.

.

When you open your eyes, the sun abusing your poor eyes, Chris’ side of the bed is empty and cold.

You should have known better than that.

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@chmpgneprblem

@qoopeeya

@sleepysongbirdsings

@magicalcowboyarbiter

@tadpoleteef

@stayceebs97

[mainfaggot]

didnt go to class today because i didnt want to leave the house and be around people and be on the bus and be on the train and be on campus. i just couldnt bear the thought of being looked at or observed or maybe even seen in a way that makes my skin crawl (i.e. to be seen when i am an open book with a grief stricken expression—over virtually nothing but also everything that's ever happened to me— although it's only 9 am or 5 pm and the world is still spinning). worst of all i couldnt decide what to wear and what am i if not a carefully constructed performance!!!! i couldnt wrap my head around getting on stage today. god forbid someone see right through it all

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call—quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress – along with the charger cord still attached to it – and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to just leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my only daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, your laundry– gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. 

“Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum–depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you–almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead – probably tonight when you do your daily login – you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—girl, from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming–but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell dropped on you and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend–nope, nothing unusual here–you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[chuluoyi]

✎ sweet felicity

- gojo satoru x reader

what do you get the man who already has everything for his birthday?

genre: teeth-rotting fluff and comfort because no—i can't make his birthday angsty ok

note: so this is my entry for the birthday boy <3 this takes place immediately after daddy-to-be, where the first years are still yuta, maki, panda and toge

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Honestly? Satoru wondered about it a lot these days.

He already has everything he wanted—unparalleled cursed technique, a fairly happy life, a pretty wife, and just recently, a kid on the way.

But his birthday was in a week and it was as clear as a day that you were planning something for him.

“Come on, you can't fool me, sweets.”

He noticed that you had started waking up earlier than usual. Initially, he thought it was due to your morning sickness, but it turned out you were sneaking away to another room for an hour or two and only came out when it was around breakfast time.

Did you really think he wouldn't catch on? Satoru found himself torn between concern and amusement. He didn't want you to strain yourself—especially after your recent fainting spells—and yet a part of him was over the moon by the fact that you did it for him.

His eyes crinkled, twinkling with affection. “You're planning something for my birthday in the mornings lately. That's sweet, but you don't have to, really.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so sure that it's for your birthday? I never said anything."

"Well, what else could it be? Unless you're cheating on me at six in the morning—"

"I have your spawn inside me, Gojo Satoru—"

"Don't call it ‘spawn’!" Satoru interjected with a theatrical gasp. "It's our very own little munchkin! Our love! Love!"

This was so ridiculous and you couldn't help yourself from giggling. And seeing you like that softened something inside him.

"Really, don't push yourself too hard," he said with a pout, resigned. "You need lots and lots of sleep."

"I'm not a baby, Satoru."

"Half of you is, so it makes you one!"

He was dramatic, but it was his own way to care because your husband was just wired that way.

You sighed, relenting. “Okay, okay… I know my limits. I will stop when I don't feel well, yeah? Besides, I won't have time to do it except in the mornings because I still have classes to teach.” It seemed like he wasn’t satisfied with your answer so you added, “Just so you know, it's something I enjoy too.”

"Hmph," Satoru huffed, eyeing you petulantly. "It'd better be good, or I'll spank you."

If it were physically possible for your eyes to roll a full 360 degrees into the back of your head and back, they definitely would have. "Oh, you will adore it, I promise."

Well, it wasn't a part of the plan, but now that he had asked for it, you'd definitely add a twist in his gift...

Satoru connected the dots instantly when he saw yarn and needles—what else were you doing aside from knitting?

His sweet wife, who woke up early just to make a handmade gift for his birthday—ahh, his heart could've burst. It was so cute and so you, the warmhearted being that you were.

He would go back early today, he decided, as he strolled the halls of the Jujutsu High with a cheerful tune. You were certainly waiting back at home and he would shower you with love and praise just for your efforts alone these past few days.

And so, he would have never expected that when he received a call from Nanami that afternoon, his world would utterly shatter in the most terrifying way.

“Gojo-san, please, you must come back.” Nanami was always steadfast even in the direst situations. And yet, now he was breathing hard, and panicking. “Something happened. You must go back to your residence—”

In that moment all he could think of was you and his baby. His entire world. Were you hurt?

He didn’t dwell on it—or rather, he couldn’t. His fingers went to rip his blindfold off as a sense of exponential dread creeped in and threatened to engulf him whole—a very, very strange, unfamiliar feeling to him—and he teleported back to his haven in a blink of an eye.

He had been ready to unleash hell, to see you lying on your own pool of blood, or anything. No, that was something he could never be ready for, but he would somehow make it right—

“Ooh, there he is!”

“Already?!”

“Nevermind—”

—and suddenly, he was swept into a whirlwind of confusion and commotion.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GOJO-SENSEI!”

Today is December 7.

It took a while for Satoru to discern everything, with his pulsating heartbeats and the rush of emotions that overwhelmed him. His eyes darted from each and every face who were suddenly in his house, searching for yours—

“Satoru!” you greeted him from behind Nanami, radiantly beaming, and only then could he finally breathe. You are safe—you’re well—

You had meant for it as a joke, a little payback for all the grievances he had caused you—and let’s not forget, Nanami—but you immediately regretted it when you had a look over the absolute terror in his heavenly blue eyes that you loved so much.

You had seen this once, before, when he proposed to you.

“Satoru.” You waltzed towards him, gently cradling his stunned face in your hands. “Hey,” you coaxed him with an apologetic smile, reassuring him of your presence.

Satoru looked at you squarely in the eyes, and as he fully took in the sight of you, he let out a shuddering breath and pulled you close with a firm arm around your waist and and the other around your back.

“You evil woman,” he murmured in your ears, and you could feel the slight tremble of his body and the way his heart was still thumping wildly inside his sturdy chest, which made you feel even more sorry.

“Whoa, that got you good, huh?” Panda remarked with a bemused grin.

“As expected,” Megumi snorted.

“Salmon! Salmon!”

“Ehh, that’s actually sweet…” Maki noted thoughtfully. “I would have never expected him to drop everything that fast just to go back here only after a suspicious phone call—”

“Of course he would!” Yuta rebuked with pride. “It’s his wife after all! And Nanami-san truly did a really convincing job at it!”

Nanami. Satoru casted a stern glare toward his junior, while the man in question awkwardly coughed. How did you even involve him in this?

Nah, he would deal with him later.

Despite the scare that got him good, your little plan commenced as it should. The closest of his friends and students were there to throw him this silly birthday party, as well as shower him with a plethora of gifts.

You had managed to round up his students to write birthday wishes for him in a scrap book filled with various photographs throughout the past year. This is sweet, he thought.

And one note tugged at his heartstrings the most:

Thank you, sensei, for everything — Yuta.

If anything he did ever made an impact on those young sorcerers, then Satoru was wholeheartedly glad. He wanted them to grow and made their own path in this unforgiving world, and their gratitude stirred a profound sense of relief within him.

“Here.” He was genuinely surprised when Megumi abruptly pushed a long, thin box toward him next, shyly averting his gaze. “Happy birthday.”

A fountain pen. It must have costed him some. It was strange, but Satoru felt oddly emotional.

The kid was barely six when he first approached him. He was prickly and sour and definitely wasn't welcoming. And then, he had matured right before his eyes. Satoru couldn’t help ruffling his hair vigorously and snickered, disregarding the scowl directed his way.

Nanami extended his well-wishes, and even though he still had a score to settle with him later, he was happy to have him here. Shoko couldn’t come but she left you with a recorded message.

“Happy birthday, Gojo, idiot,” Shoko was grinning in the video you played. “I'm sorry I can't be there, but my wish is for you to tone down your antics. We could all use a bit less of that.”

The two remaining reminders of the bluest spring in his life. Something pricked his heart at the stark reminder that they were not whole—and if only that someone was here, they would—but the fact that these two thought of him was enough.

And now, at last, it was time for your gift. Satoru thought he knew what it was, but as he carefully opened the ivory box, a profound sense of warmth still washed over him.

Mittens, with the color of freshly fallen snow, lay in the box—two pairs in total. One was remarkably tiny, seemingly tailored for a baby, while the other was notably larger, undoubtedly meant for him.

You. Him. The baby. By this time next year, there would be three of you. The happy picture of all of you together in near future was a gift in and of itself. You two are his everything.

Satoru went by his instincts and grasped your arm, crashing his lips against yours ardently, beaming with the broadest grin. He paid no heed to the squeals and disapproving glances from everyone around, as he felt entitled to do so—declaring his love boldly so you would know… that he was utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

That he was grateful for you in this otherwise dreary life.

And that if there were any other lives he might live after this ended... then he hoped the heavens would always bring you back to him—and for you to always choose him just like this, no matter what.

Epilogue

“So you really did call Nanami at six in the morning.”

Later that night, just before bed, your husband was still holding a grudge on you for frightening him back in the day, evident by the permanent purse of his lips.

You shrugged, buttoning the last button of your sleepwear. “I did… but it’s for greater purpose, so… yeah.”

“I can’t stand this. I’m suing you for collateral damage.”

You almost laughed. “Pffft—what? What damage—”

“My fragile heart! You can’t do that to me and expect I won’t charge you!”

“Well…” You noted with a meaningful smile. You couldn’t say you didn’t expect this, because Satoru always got pouty whenever he was irked in one way or another, and so in advance, you had actually been prepared for this.

You caught him off guard when you suddenly sat on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing his undercut. It was a nice change of pace, seeing the faint blush coloring his cheeks as he steadied you by your waist.

“…what if I say… I still have one present left for you?”

So, what did you get a man who already has everything for his birthday?

Your whole heart, of course.

And if you were in the mood for an additional surprise, a brand new pair of lacy lingerie you had under your pajamas might do the trick.

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Scarlet Heart

Synopsis: Ser Aemond was consumed with guilt after his argument with his princess, and it only furthered as she was taken by sickness. Warnings: None (yet), Concerned Aemond, Princess and Aemond's (not so) Secret Relationship, Revelations PREVIOUS PART A/N: I think it's safe to say we're like 2/3's done with the story :,( ... unless

Aemond was ill at ease the entire night. Guilt was consuming him as he made the girl he loved cry. Until the hour of the ghost, Aemond listened to her as she stifled her quiet sobs and her sniffling until she had eventually cried herself to sleep all because of him. He did not mean anything he had said. It was beneath him to insinuate that she wanted the attention of any of the lords when she had proven to him who exactly she wanted. You want him. And Aemond could only pray to each god that his transgression would not detter your want and love for him. 

When the first light shone through the gloomy and overcast northern wastelands, Aemond waited impatiently for you to wake so he could offer his apologies. He had no wish to retrace old patterns of the two of you ignoring the other as a somewhat punishment. Aemond could no longer bear your silence and indifference as he had fully accustomed himself to you clinging to his side. 

As another hour passed, Aemond did not hear you wake. He looked out the window, the sun halfway to its peak, the usual time when you would wake and lovingly wake your pet cats as well. Anxiousness was starting to fill him. What if you truly froze in your bed? The coldness he had shown you and the coldness of the north gnawing away at your warmth. Aemond felt his hand grow cold at the thought. He could not bear it any longer as he forced his way into your chambers, shivering at how cold it was inside than outside. 

Aemond’s eye frantically sought out the feathered bed, but the covers were gone, and you were not lying upon it. He then turned to the sitting area and saw you lying on the cold ground, huddled by the hearth whose embers had died. Fur upon fur atop your body to find warmth, and your two pets nuzzled into your chest as your teeth chattered whilst asleep. “Oh… my heart,” Aemond said delicately as he kneeled before you. Taking your cold hands upon his cold ones as a futile hope to warm them. 

You said not a word; you did not even open your eyes. Aemond sighed and moved to caress your cheek, but he felt the scorching heat of your skin. He frowned and moved his hands upon your forehead and realized you had run a fever. “Oh gods,” He said in dread and hurriedly bundled you into his arms and ran you to the maester. Your cats were still resting atop your body, as well as the fur you had used to cover yourself.

He ran through the halls of the unknown keep, trying to find directions, but it seemed that none were awake, too tired by last night’s festivities. Luckily, as he passed through the various doors, he passed the King, who had just exited his chambers. “Good morrow, Ser Ae—“ 

“My king, where is the maester’s tower?” The knight abruptly interrupted the highest ruler of the land as he feared for your state. The king frowned, not noticing you in the arms of your knight as he took what Ser Aemond carried was a bundle of fur coats, finding the tone of urgency in your usually stoic knight odd. “The princess has run a fever during the night— she needs a maester. She is unresponsive— she usually wakes with just the slightest sound, but she has not peeled her eyes open!” The knight explained and watched as the confusion on the King’s face turned to concern as he now realized you were unconscious in your knight’s arms. 

Your father placed his warm hand atop your forehead and felt the scorching heat of your skin; the franticness of your knight now understood and was seeping into your father. “Return her to her chambers; I shall get the maesters myself.” The king said, and Aemond wasted no time doing what your father said. He ran to your chambers once more, placing you atop the feathered bend, and took off his cloak and placed it atop your frame in an effort to warm you further. Aemond then turned to died out fire of the hearth and quickly remade one. 

He could still hear your teeth chattering through your unconscious state, and Aemond looked upon the large room, which would take a while to warm. He had naught a choice but to pull with all his might the solid mahogany bed closer to the hearth. Not even the sound of the ruckus he made had woken you, who would wake by just the distant sound of your knight’s armor clinking as he shifted his weight during the night. 

Aemond panted as he directly placed your bed across the hearth; the chambers were now a mess, but he had no care as he was only focused on your recovery. Aemond leaned closer to you; every part of your body was bundled in fur and his cloak except your face, which was flushed and scarlet. He leaned closer to make certain you were still breathing. You did, but there were wheezes, and it would seem you had trouble in doing so. 

Aemond abruptly stood straighter as he heard your father’s voice approaching. The door opened, and the king, along with your brother and a flock of maesters, came. Aemond stood by the side, watching as you were inspected by each maester. Quiet murmurings enveloped the room as he, your father, and your brother waited on bated breath. 

“Had she mentioned anything about feeling unwell?” The prince asked as he watched the maesters remove the bundle of fur that covered you to inspect you further. Your pets were gently placed on the ground, and Sapphira quickly marched her way to the foot of Ser Aemond. The men glancing towards the feline that rested her head atop the boot of your knight. “She said she felt an itch on her throat on our way here, but besides that, none, my prince.” Ser Aemond replied. 

“Has the princess had scarlet fever when she was a child?” The maester questioned. And Aemond expectedly turned to the members of your family. “Yes, twice. Once, when she was a babe and then again when she was seven.” The king answered, dipping down to take hold of Theodore, who peered upon him. Taking your beloved pet into his hold to somewhat comfort your father. 

The maester hummed as he returned to his observation, but Aemond sensed alarm in your brother. “Father… it cannot be scarlet fever again, can it? The last time she…” Your brother trailed, unable to speak of what occurred. But Aemond was curious. How grave was this situation? “The last time?” Aemond asked, a risk as he spoke out of turn—a risk as he let his concern shine through and be known. 

Your brother turned to him, apprehensive to utter the words. “The last time… none of us thought she would make it. Her pulse was so faint that we had to place a maester by her side at all hours just to check her pulse constantly. Mother was already planning the funeral… had her dress readied and all.” The king quickly called upon the attention of your brother, chastising him as he recalled such bleak memories. 

By gods! Aemond was harboring dislike for your mother these past moons, but at your brother’s words— how the queen was wholly ready to accept your demise and planned the ordeal before it actually… Aemond’s mind was made. He loathed your mother. How cruel can one be? 

“Do not think a such— your sister is fine… it’s not scarlet fever… it’s just because of the weather! Isn’t that right, maester?” Your father said, trying to convince himself that nothing dire befell his most precious daughter. But as the maesters turned to your father, all had a solemn look upon their face. “I’m afraid it’s scarlet fever again, my king. Thrice in one lifetime… I must be honest, your Majesty; none of us has come across this predicament before.” 

Aemond paled at the words, turning to your father and brother, who paled as well. “What must we do, maester?” Aemond questioned; your father and brother were too shocked to speak. “We already gave her the necessary elixir of herbs for the fever. Let us wait and hope it will take. If not… we must let out her blood,” The maester explained. 

“Write to your br— cousin, tell him what has happened. Perhaps they have developed a new cure for scarlet fever.” The king stuttered as he turned to his son. “Yes, father.” The prince nodded and ran out of the room to write to his half-brother that their sister was once again plagued. The princess is one of the main reasons why her eldest brother became a maester, to finally find a lasting cure for her ailments. 

“We must isolate the princess. There are children in the keep who can easily be infected.” The maester warned, and the king nodded mindlessly, with Aemond standing idly by the side as he could not approach you without them suspecting anything. “Isolate? Leave my daughter alone?” The king then asked. “One of us could check upon the princess every hour, but we cannot be in her presence constantly at the risk of the fever spreading.” Aemond’s fist clenched at the maester’s words. Is that their solution? To leave you alone? To have you bear your ailment in solitary?

 “I can stay with the princess, my king.” Aemond then spoke. There was no hesitancy in him; he could not bear to leave you alone. Never. 

“Are you certain, Ser Aemond?” The king questioned, “I am, my king. It is still my duty to look over the princess.” He replied, but the maester voiced his reluctance, fearing that the knight would also be infected. Aemond did not care. He’d rather be by your side, in sickness and in health, as they say. “I will be fine. I have a rather great immune system; I rarely get sick.” He insisted. 

“Very well then, if no one else shall watch over my daughter, it shall be you.” The king said, clapping the shoulder of the knight as his words held a slight to the maesters who were too cowardly to watch over the princess. “Thank you, Ser Aemond.” The king said and Aemond only gave a nod. 

He watched as the king placed Theodore by his daughter’s side, the princess still not opening her eyes even as the king placed a chaste kiss atop her head. “You can do this, my darling… you have fought it before, you shall do it again,” The king whispered softly at his daughter, who made no indication that she heard her father’s pleading words. 

When your father and maesters left the room, Aemond was finally alone with you, just like how he preferred it. But even your presence he could not feel. Aemond sighed and carried a chair to the side of your bed. Sitting upon it, he took hold of Sapphira, who he placed by your side, huddling with her brother as both of your pets seemed to understand what had happened to you. 

Aemond took your hand into his hand, still cold. He slowly placed it against his cheek, hoping his warmth would transfer to you, bearing the coldness as he could not help but feel guilty at your state. If he had not accused you of enjoying the lord’s company the other night— if he had not argued with you… you would have told him immediately that you felt poorly. That you would insist him to stand in his post inside your chambers when he could watch over you. 

“Please, my heart, I’m so sorry. Do not punish me like this… yell at me, hit me, I’ll bear it all. Just… please…” Aemond pleaded as he tucked away a stray lock of your hair. It was strange for him to ask you of such. To plead with you to show him anything but kindness, but he’d prefer your rage rather than your silence. 

For the rest of the day, Aemond stayed by his princess’ side. Taking turns in holding her cold hands, hoping it would warm her. He constantly checked her temperature and pulse, fearing the worst. Never had he felt so helpless. He could do nothing as your body was partly cold and partly hot, but the whole of it was scarlet. 

Aemond shut his eye tightly as he heard a faint knock on your door, having to remove your hand on his cheek as you two could not be caught in such a state. “Your meal, Ser,” a servant uttered and placed a tray by a table near Aemond. He inspected what the servant had brought and narrowed his eyes. “Where is the princess’ meal?” He sharply questioned, but the servant only looked confused. “I—I thought the princess was unconscious and— and she would not be able to eat.” The servant stuttered as they were met with the harsh look on your sworn protector’s face. 

“Just— just bring her custard tarts. She would wake soon; she would want her custard tarts.” Aemond gritted and watched as the servant scurried off. The knight filled with hope that your unconscious state would not last. When the knight was given a platter of custard tarts, he waited for the door to shut fully before focusing all of his attention on his princess again. 

“Look, my heart, your favorite. Come now, wake up… please. You can eat it all… you don’t even have to share with me, please, my heart.” Aemond pleaded again, hoping that you would smell the scent of your favorite sweet and it would wake you. You were like a bloodhound when it came to your favorite desserts. You would just take a deep breath when in the halls of your home, and you could already guess what pastry they were making, exciting you for tea time. 

Aemond sighed once more. Perhaps you were exhausted. That you desperately needed rest, that you would wake in a few hours if Aemond only stopped pestering and pleading for you to wake. Perhaps it was that. The knight convinced himself. So, he pushed away the tray of custard tarts and held your hand once more, letting you acquire rest. 

As night came, Aemond abruptly sat up as he realized he had drifted off to sleep as he watched over you. His eyes were wide as he looked around the dark room, the fire dying once again. His hand was still holding yours, and he quickly moved his hold to feel your pulse. It was faint, but it was there. He hurriedly stood and remade the fire, cursing himself as he let himself drift off to sleep. He returned to his seat and leaned forward to feel your temperature; it seemed to lessen, making Aemond breathe out in relief. However, you still had not opened your eyes. 

Aemond looked around the room. It was dark except of the light of the hearth. He reluctantly stood and lit the various candles and lamps. You hated the dark; your room was always lit in one form or the other. “I’m sorry I drifted off to sleep, my heart. But you’re fine, yes? You’re fever is lowering… come now, open your eyes. I think the cooks made your favorite supper… it’d be a waste if you did not have some,” Aemond murmured as he returned to your side. He somewhat felt pathetic. Speaking so softly to the wind. Aemond shook his head and readjusted the furs that kept you warm. 

Aemond licked his lips as you still did not open your eyes. He and all of his siblings had scarlet fever before, but none of them grew unconscious because of it. The knight straightened his back as he heard a knock at the door, moving his hold from your hand to your pulse again.

“My prince,” Aemond stood and bowed his head. “Good evening, Ser Aemond… how is— how are you both fairing?” Your brother asked quietly as if fearing he would wake you. “The princess’ fever had lessened, but she still had not wakened,” Aemond answered, your brother moving to stand by the foot of your bed to inspect you. “You had not eaten, Ser.” The prince remarked as his eyes shifted to the table. “And… are those custard tarts?” 

“I am not hungry, my prince, and yes… I had the servant bring them— I thought it could convince the princess to wake up,” Aemond admitted, a part of him thought he might be seen as ridiculous. The prince only let out a breath of a laugh. “I’ve tried that before, surrounded her with all her favorite desserts the last time she grew unconscious, hoping the scent of it would wake her.” 

“Did it?” Aemond asked in hope. “No…” The prince admitted solemnly. 

“My prince, I do not think it’s scarlet fever,” Aemond suddenly said. “Unconsciousness is not a symptom of scarlet fever— I should know, when I was three and ten, half of my house was infected, but none of them grew unconscious,” Aemond explained as he moved closer to you. He lifted the fur covering to reveal a part of your arm “And she has none of those red bumps,” 

The prince frowned, wondering what led the maesters to conclude that it was once again scarlet fever. “But why would the maesters think it’d be scarlet fever?” The prince asked. “I do not know… perhaps they only saw her flushed face and felt her temperature and concluded that it was scarlet fever because, as you had said, she had it twice. It is easy to conclude that it could happen to her again.” Aemond observed. 

“I shall write to our brother again,” The prince muttered and moved to leave the room, but before he could reach the door, it opened to reveal your eldest brother and your newly wedded cousin, Eliza. “I was already on my way to the north when I stumbled upon the messenger you sent— how is she?” 

“Eliza, you shouldn’t be here,” the prince said and tried to nudge away his cousin. “How is she? She’ll be fine, yes? Oh gods! I knew we should have just held the ceremony in Father’s castle!” She exclaimed in guilt, resisting as your brother tried to push her out of the room. “She’ll be fine, Eliza. Now go, enjoy your honeymoon.” The prince sighed, but Eliza resisted, “I want hourly updates! I swear to the gods, if you keep me in the dark, I’ll bury you in the snow, cousin.” Eliza threatened, a small, amused smile coming to the prince’s lips through these trying times. “Very well then, now go.”

When Lady Eliza had finally gone, your eldest brother finally spoke. “It’s not scarlet fever,” He remarked, placing a damp towel on your forehead, a measure that they seem to forget amidst the panic. “Thank gods,” the prince sighed. “Thank gods indeed, I do not think her heart can handle it— it’s already weaker than the others.” Your eldest brother muttered, glancing toward Ser Aemond whose concerned expression never faded. 

Aemond licked his lips and avoided the gaze of your older brother. You had told him that your eldest brother came to know of understanding, and he could only hope he truly understood and did not utter a word of it. 

“If not scarlet fever, what then?” The prince questioned, “Just a very high fever, which would explain her unconscious state— once her temperature lessens, I’m certain she would wake.” Your brother explained, and Aemond finally let out a breath of relief. “Where’s father?” Your elder brother asked your eldest brother. “Praying,” He answered, and the prince was quick to frown. “What?” He asked in disbelief. The king was not a devout man, he only kept up appearances in the sept for the sake of the crown, but to hear him pray not out of duty but of necessity was quite shocking. 

“I shall find him and tell him what you had said,” The prince muttered. “Better find him fast, lest his knees freeze— they’re already stiff as it is,” Aemond chewed on his cheeks as your eldest brother somehow lightened the tenseness they had since the morning. 

“So… you’re looking after my sister,” Your eldest brother said slowly, tense as it was his first conversation with the knight. “Yes, my pr— lo—“ Aemond once again stuttered as he did not know how to address your brother. “Lord,” He corrected, and Aemond nodded. “Well, I suppose it best that it is you who watches over her instead of the maesters who misdiagnosed her ailment.”

“My sister has always been a sickly child,” The lord remarked. “They believe it is because she came earlier than expected or because of the amount of wine the queen drank while she was pregnant,” he sighed as both men sat across each other. Your brother by your right, and Aemond by your left. 

“Might I ask you something, my lord?” Your brother nodded, and Aemond took a moment to articulate his question properly. “It is just… I had noticed that the queen is not particularly fond of the princess,” Aemond said lowly. “You can say it plainly: she hates her.” Your eldest brother said heavily. “But why?” Aemond waited as your brother hummed. “How do I say this delicately… I’m certain my sister shared with you the true manner of our father’s and her mother’s marriage?” Aemond nodded. 

“Well, father had little affection for the queen. There is some, but it is a minuscule amount. The only intimacy they shared was for the sake of procreation, and I suppose the queen thought she could make father fall in love with her, but the only thing father truly loves are his children… and when the queen gave birth to a girl, she saw my sister as competition.” Aemond frowned severely at your eldest brother’s words. “Father had always only wanted a daughter. So, when my sister was born, he no longer saw reason to be in the queen’s presence except for appearances and familial dinners.” 

“I honestly do not know how she bears it— our brother had always tried to protect her from the Queen’s wrath, but even he could not sway their mother’s hatred for her.” The lord sighed and settled further into his seat, tired as he had journeyed through the cold just to reach his sister. “You could go and find rest, Ser Aemond. I can look over my sister,” The lord said as he tried to stifle a yawn, and Aemond was quick to shake his head. 

“It is fine, my lord. I can watch over her. It is my duty, after all,” The lord hummed and did not have the energy to disagree with Ser Aemond. “Very well, I’ll just be in the other room. Summon me if my sister is in distress— such high fevers do come with the risk of convulsions,” The lord informed as he stood. “And if you could change the towel atop her forehead before the hour of the nightingale, it would be best…” The lord trailed, distracted as he looked upon his sister concerning Aemond. “Why? What is the matter?” He asked, alarmed. 

“Nothing, I just noticed the furs… she looks like a baby bear,” Your brother breathed out a laugh, and Aemond felt a smirk inching to his lips. Your eldest brother seemed to have a gift for finding a light in dark situations. “Good night, Ser Aemond.” The lord said as he exited the door, leaving Aemond to be alone in your presence once more. 

Aemond did not sleep that night. He spent the silent hours reading to you one of the books you had bought for the trip, changing the damp towel on your forehead, and brushing your pets' fur as you would always do before you went to sleep. 

When morning approached, Aemond's hold on your hand never tired. He rechecked your temperature, which had subsided, but your skin was still warmer than usual. Earlier, you had stirred during your sleep, your small action bringing hope and fear to Aemond because he thought it might be the convulsions your brother had warned him about, but at least you were showing signs of consciousness.  

When the sun rose and bathed your chambers in its golden hue, Aemond again brought your hand to his cheek. “Please, my heart, open your eyes… please,” Aemond said softly, begging his princess to bless him once again with her gaze. Aemond lowered his eye as he was just met with silence. But he quickly raised his gaze as he felt your finger move against his skin, “My heart?” He called as he looked upon your face, your eyelids twitching, and a low hum left your lips. 

“Oh, thank gods,” He breathed out as he leaned forward to asses you further. “You’re fine… you didn’t leave me,” He breathed out in relief as he cupped your cheek, your mind still hazy and muddled from your fever. “Leave…? Why— why would I leave you? Where would I even go?” You asked, disoriented as Aemond’s face hovered above yours. Through your impaired vision, you see the concern in Aemond’s eye as if he were ready to weep. “Oh, what’s wrong, my love? Had something happened?” You asked in concern, forcing yourself to open your eyes to see Aemond more clearly and thoroughly. 

“Nothing… it’s nothing,” Aemond breathed in relief as he looked into your eyes, tiredness still evident but finally opened. That was all he could ask for. You gave him a weak smile as your finger still caressed his cheek, a low moan leaving your lips. “Do I smell custard tarts?” You then asked, making Aemond let out a low chuckle at your words. “Yes, you can have all the custard tarts you want, my heart,” Aemond said and placed a kiss atop your head before turning to a table to acquire your sweet treats. 

“Did someone call me a baby bear again while I was asleep?” You then asked making Aemond chuckle as he returned to his seat with a platter of custard tart, taking your hand in his and giving the back of it another kiss. “No, my heart, that must have been a dream,” he fibbed, all the heaviness he felt subsiding the moment you woke and spoke to him.

Unbeknownst to you both, your father stood and watched the whole scene through the ajar door. A witness to how you ever stoic knight turned soft just for you, who looked at him with your tired, love-filled eyes. The king witnessed as his beloved daughter retold the story of his grandmother. 

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[trappolia]

── IT'S BEEN A LONG, LONG NIGHT

silver vanrouge. when silver wakes up from a dream, you are the first thing he searches for.

Silver finds you in the aftermath.

Amidst the wreckage of it all, even in this world that possesses so much grandeur of magic, you are a vision that he has only ever seen in his most darling dreams; bloody and exhausted, the tips of your fingers stained black with blot─ the same colour as Malleus's hair, the same colour that the beloved Draconic Prince bleeds now as Divus fusses over him. But his brother is a Fae of the greatest breeding, a dragon's son born from acrid flame and green lightning; his skin would stitch itself back together, and he would be whole again.

Silver cannot yet say the same for himself.

He is exhausted. The sweet arms of Morpheus beckon to him, the home of his magic calling him back to that dreaded sleep. Or perhaps it is just the strain of it all, the force of his Unique Magic being stretched over so many dreams in so many hours. His boots scuff over the gravel and debris as he drags himself towards you, step by step.

"Silver?" Somewhere through the fog that clouds his eyes and the ringin in his ears, he registers the uncharacteristic softness of Sebek's voice. Silver lifts his foot to take another step, but finds the weight of his own muscle too much, and he stumbles. Sebek startles, and Silver feels him grasp his arm. "Silver! Don't─"

"I─I'm fine," Silver croaks, his voice hoarse. His eyes blur, but still you cut a figure at the center of it all, haloed by the light of the rising sun and the darkness of his brother's blood. His Sleeping Beauty, your head raising as you hear the commotion. There are more people clamouring to aid Silver, but there is only you in the reflection of his irises; your expression as your brows furrow, eyes widening as you stumble to your feet.

"Silver?" you call his name, oh-so-soft despite the distance that stands between the two of you. Silver is reminded again of that vision you in his dreams, welcoming him home in that soft voice and sweet smile. He takes another step, his body protesting.

You're a dream.

"What are you...?" Lilia croaks as he sees the beaten human passing, but his son only rests his palm over his shoulder, squeezing the small frame of his father. Silver stumbles forward as if he held the burden of a hundred heavy stones. A beat passes, and Lilia realises what he wants.

He does not stop him from reaching for it.

You had stood by now, your own exhaustion forgotten as you realise where Silver is headed. He must be a sight for sore eyes, battle-beaten and exhausted beyond all measure. And still, he has to get to you─

You're still there.

Silver recognises that you are nothing like the visage in his dreams. You had been sweeter then, softened around the edges and holding none of that bitterness you cradled to yourself in your time in Night Raven College. No overblots, no slacking headmasters─ just that little cottage and the garden in your backyard, your lover's boots tracking mud and soil over the carpet. And still he wanted─ he longed.

After that long, endless night, all he wanted was you again.

"Silver!" you gasp as you reach him, and Silver allows himself to hold you. His arms, bruised and weak as they are, wrap around your waist, holding onto you with the strength that he had lacked just earlier. "Oh, Great Seven, are you─"

"You're here," he exhales breathlessly, pressing his forehead to yours. His arms shift, the scratched surface of his palms pressing to your cheeks, and he hears your breath hitch.

( He had held you like this, once upon a dream. It is only now that Silver realised how much more tender it felt in reality. )

"…Silver?"

"You're here," he whispers again, almost as if he can say nothing else. A weak laugh bubbles at his throat. "I found you."

For that single moment suspended in time, you say nothing. But then Silver feels your arms wind around his torso, reciprocating his embrace.

"You found me," you murmur, squeezing him lightly. Silver wonders, as your nails dig into his back through the fabric and leather of his uniform, if you are subconsciously trying to assure yourself that he is not a dream.

"Did you have a bad dream?" you ask him.

It takes a moment for Silver to realise you are attempting something of a joke, perhaps to ease the tension and the horror of what had just transpired and ended moments before. Another laugh bubbles at his throat, one of disbelief and such tender fondness.

"No," Silver admits honestly, pulling away. His hands cup your cheeks still, ever so gentle. "No, I didn't."

You laugh then, equal parts fond and puzzled. Silver leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours; his nose nudges against yours, his breath warm and airy and real. You shudder, clutching onto him tighter.

"What's gotten into you?" you ask with another breathless laugh, even though you are now the one clutching to him like a lifeline.

Silver lets out a slow, shuddering breath, brushing the traces of blood that still bled from a cut at your cheekbone. This close, he can count the little marks upon your skin and pinpoint the exact colour of your irises. He imagine you again in his dreamscape, domestic and sweet and oh so lovely.

"You're a dream," he says softly.

You stare at him like a deer caught in the headlight, doe eyes unblinking. Someone, perhaps his father or Sebek, chokes on their spit somewhere close by. Silver does not notice. A moment passes, then another, and then your eyes crinkle into these lovely crescent moons, and you begin to laugh.

"Well, aren't you sappy today?" you muse, lips quirking up into that soft smile that Silver oh so longs to kiss. "What's the occasion?"

He is suddenly struck with a sense of deja vu, like he had heard your words before. His heart stutters, and suddenly, he finds himself speaking, the words not properly registering in his mind before they come tumbling out of his mouth.

"I'm no prince," Silver confesses. The sun had begun its ascent in the horizon, casting a new dawn upon this land of dreams come true, but all he can see was you in the daylight, the sunbeams illuminating your lovely expression of shock. He goes on before he can stop himself. "Perhaps I could have been, once. Not anymore. I am the brother of an heir, the son of a general─ but I have neither title nor fortune to offer you."

"Silver," you say softly, breathless. Your eyes are soft, almost pitying as he seems to put himself down.

"The man who loved the woman who bore me was no different. All we have is the iron of our blade and the promise of a knight's devotion. And yet─" Silver swallows. "And yet─ And yet, I long for more with you. More than the sworn oath from a knight to his monarch─"

Sebek makes a noise of protest, only to be cut off by the swift jab of Lilia's elbow against his ribs.

"─more than a promise of a friend to be by your side."

You laugh weakly, almost unsure as you glanced around. "Silver, are we doing this here─?"

"I dreamt I was back home again," Silver goes on, cutting you off─ not too unkindly, he hopes. He understands that it is most improper to cut someone off as they are speaking, but he needs to speak first, he needed you to know all the things he did not dare to confess to you before─ "Lili─ My father, he─ he has a lovely cottage in the forest, far in the outskirts of Briar Valley. There's a garden out in the back where we grow our fruit and vegetables, and the trees in the forest bear fruit sweeter than anything you've tastes and I─ I─"

He falters then at the look in your eyes, the soft and knowing curve of your lips as he stumbles over his words. Silver looks down at the scuffed toes of his boots, swallowing once more before he speaks again.

"I─ I love─ I love you," he breathed out shakily, almost pleading for you to acknowledge the truth. You had kissed and he had held you in his arms before, but such an admission... Silver feels as though he is teetering at the edge of a cliff. "I have nothing to offer you except an oath that I will hold these affections for you dearly till the end of time and that cottage where I learned how to love and hate and live all the same─"

"Silver─"

"But just a word from you, and I will be silent forever─"

"Silver!" you raise your voice to be heard over his rambling. It is so uncharacteristic, almost odd to see this boy that had only shown his affection to you through lovely and subtle gestures and whispers rather than the bold declaration of those three certain words, awoken from his cursed sleep as a rambling, flustered mess.

Silver raises his head, helpless as you laugh sweetly at him, and he loathes to think of a world where he had never woken up and heard the true melody with his own ears again. He wants to fulfill his oath, to give you all the love he possesses in this wretched body of his, and then some.

Your fingers come to card through the matted strands of his hair, moonshine under all the dust and dirt. When your hand comes to cup his face again, tilting his head to meet your gaze, your eyes are just as lovely as he remembers in his dream.

"I love you too."

And Silver's heart sings to have its song reciprocated once again, to be loved by you as he was once upon a dream. You laugh again at the expression on his face, that sweet melody that he wants to hear for the rest of his life. He has no ring to give you now, but Lilia hollers something at him, and Silver's mind is so dazed by the smile on your face that he does not realise it until you take his face in your palms and kiss him hard.

"Come home with me?" he whispers hoarsely when you pull away, and his mouth still seeks to touch your cheek, your nose, the space between your brows. Silver loathes to part from you again. Perhaps he never will.

"Yes," you giggle, lips meeting his once again. "A thousand times, yes."

© trappolia 2024

[alicewrotethis]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮﹒

ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! tsukishima helps out the new neighbor who moved into the apartment next to him, only he didnt know what would come of it  ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip k. tsukishima x chubby!fem!reader  ﹒ ◠ note!!  playlist i listened to while making this ! i do plan on making a part two soon !! ౨  wc!! 4.4k part two !! >>

Waking up Tsukishima stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars placed above his bed, watching as they faded with the oncoming sun peeking through the blinds. He dreaded mornings, he hated the way his mouth felt dry, how hot he felt under the sheets, and most of all, waking up meant he'd have to deal with a new day of idiots doing things he hated.

Tsukishima hated a lot of things, he hated his old rowdy neighbor, he hated overly cheery people, the feeling of cold coffee in the morning, how polyester felt against his skin, and he especially hated when his neighbors tried to get to know him.

Putting his headphones on he stepped out into the hallway, only to be greeted by the sight of you trying to lift a box into your new apartment.

You decided to save money youd only ask the movers to move your furniture and not your boxes, you were deeply regretting that decision right now. You only had three more boxes to go but the soreness was already catching up to you from the other ten.

The sight was enough to annoy Tsukishima, why didn't you just ask for help instead of trying to do everything yourself, movers are a thing. Did you not have friends that could help you do this? He tried his best to ignore you while locking his door but a part of him felt bad for you, that you couldn't even complete a simple task.

With a sigh, he made his way over and took the box from your hands which startled you.

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"Where do I put it," He cut you off flatly before he could change his mind about helping you.

You were thrown off by his tone, its not like you asked him to help you so why was he so angry?

"In the living room is fine, thank you, sorry," You weren't sure whether you should be apologizing or thanking so you settled on doing both, which just earned another sigh from Tsukishima.

You were surprised by how easily he lifted the rest of the boxes, despite how skinny he looked he was really strong, or maybe you were just really weak, but to save your ego you decided he was just strong.

"Thank you again for helping," You looked up at him as he sat the last box down on the floor. You noticed this guy sighed a lot, it made you feel like you were somehow wasting his time.

Looking down at his watch he realized how much time had passed and he mumbled something under his breath before leaving your apartment.

He didn't even acknowledge your gratitude. The entire encounter had you stunned, was he really going to be your next-door neighbor?

With a content sigh, you plopped down on your couch and instantly relaxed, you had finally finished unpacking every box and arranging your furniture the way you liked it, and it only took you six hours. Despite how tired your body was you wanted to do something to show your grumpy neighbor how thankful you were, and you were gonna do it in the only way you knew how to show thanks.

Baking. But first, you would have to go grocery shopping.

Heading toward the elevator at the end of the hall the door opened to reveal your tall, grumpy neighbor, still wearing the same frown he left in. Only it seemed to deepen at the sight of you.

You smiled at him as he exited the elevator. Tsukishima prayed you wouldn't try to talk to him, but of course, like every other time, his prayer wasn't heard.

"Hey, neighbor! I never got your name," You beamed up at him, looking at him now he was freakishly tall, his hair was disheveled, and he looked sweaty, it was almost enough to intimidate you.

"If you know it, you'll say it," He flatly said, walking past you to his apartment door.

You didn't know what you did to possibly receive this kind of treatment, it wasn't even your first day living here and this guy acted like he hated you.

"What did I do to you?" You asked, slightly irritated by his ego.

He simply ignored your question and entered his apartment, promptly closing the door.

It's not like Tsukishima intended to be rude to you, well, he partially did. But there was truth to his words. If you knew his name then you'd assume he was your friend and you'd try and talk to him, and he just didn't want that. His apartment was a place where he didn't have to talk to anyone and he intended to keep it that way. He couldn't understand why you didn't get the hint.

You weren't gonna let his rude attitude stop you from baking him something, it only made you more motivated to bring a smile to his frowny face.

You weren't sure what you'd bake him so you decided to go with your own favorite dish, strawberry shortcake.

Walking down the aisles you stared at everything in your cart, you had gotten some regular food items you'd need for the next few week's meals, as well as some snacks and drinks you enjoyed. Now all that's left is to get the ingredients for the desert you'd be making your neighbor.

Looking up at the signs above the aisles you searched for where the flower would be. Once you found it you walked over, only to see the one and only standing there in front of the vanilla bottles staring intently at them. You wondered what he could be doing there.

"Hey, you," You greeted, resting your arms on the cart handle as you walked over.

Tsukishima didn't need to look to see who the voice belonged to, why were you everywhere he went?

You noticed he looked much cleaner now, and his blond hair was much more neat.

"What're you doing? Did the vanilla bottles look at you the wrong way?" You joked, stopping right in front of him. Your eyes shifted between him and the bottles, trying to figure out what he was doing.

He didn't answer you, in hopes you'd get the hint this time but that never worked out in the past. Your joke only further annoyed him.

You came to the only reasonable explanation hed be standing here staring for so long at the bottles, he didn't know the difference.

"What flavor were you looking for?" You asked, trying to sound as nonjudgemental as you could, not wanting to annoy him any further.

"What?" He asked confused.

"Well, Bourbon, or Madagascar, vanilla has a much stronger taste," You explained, pointing to the bottle you were speaking about. "While Mexican vanilla has more of a spice and smokey tone to its flavoring, and Tahitian vanilla is the opposite, its fruity and floral, almost cherry-like." You spoke softly as he nodded along.

"It's all based on your preference and what you're going to be cooking." You finished off, looking up at him.

He only nodded as he reached for the Bourbon vanilla bottle and placed it in his shopping basket.

"Thanks," He muttered out. He wondered how you knew so much about vanilla flavors, they all tasted the same to him.

"Youre welcome, can I get your name now?"

He paused for a moment before turning to you. "No,"

You let out a breath of defeat as you grabbed your own bottle, but you knew it's fine, you'd get his name one way or another, you're sure of it.

Placing your shopping bags on your counter you sighed, thankful they had an elevator or else you would've passed out walking the heavy bags up five flights of stairs.

Putting away the groceries you left out the required ingredients needed to make the strawberry shortcake.

Placing the strawberries in a bowl you layered them with sugar and gave it a light mix, only wanting to coat the strawberries in the sugar. Once that was done you began on the small cake and placed it into the oven.

An hour passed and if was finally done, it was the most beautiful thing you'd laid eyes on, it almost brought a tear to your eye. And to think the frowny, grumpy, rude, annoyed neighbor would have the chance to eat it brought a smile to your face.

Placing the treat into a small box you picked up at the store you carefully made your way to your neighbor's door and gave it a knock.

You stood there for a few moments before you heard muffled voices and the unlock of a door.

Tsukishima peeked his head out and saw you before fully opening the door.

He didn't say anything and instead raised his eyebrow, waiting for you to say what you needed.

"Sorry if I disturbed you, but I baked you a shortcake! I wasn't sure what you liked so I made you something I liked, as a thanks," You explained as well as telling him your name and handing over the box which he took and peeked into. If you were looking close enough you could see a glimmer of happiness in his eyes.

"Hm," He let out.

"Do you not-"

"Tsukishima Kei," He cut you off, something he seemed to enjoy doing.

You were stunned, "Tsukishima?" You tested the way it rolled off your tongue.

"Dont wear it out, is that all?"

"So does this mean we are friends?" You asked cheerfully, earning a sigh from him.

"No, now goodbye," He said before closing the door.

It wasn't a smile, but you learned his name so you counted that as a win.

Tsukishima walked into his kitchen and grabbed a fork, immediately ready to try his favorite dessert.

"Who was that?" Tsukishimas girlfriend, Etsuko, asked from the living room.

"My neighbor brought me some strawberry shortcake," He said, hoping she wouldn't make an argument over this like she always did, it was something he disliked, and didn't see the point in meaningless arguments but it was a habit she had recently picked up on, the latest one being about his volleyball teams manager.

"Oh? The new girl?" Her voice was laced with jealousy, something he could easily pick up on with how often she spoke in a tone like that.

"Yeah, I helped her move her boxes," He explained while biting into the shortcake, his tastebuds almost exploding with how flavorful it was, and in the privacy of his own kitchen, he cracked a small smile at your dish.

"Why'd you do that?" She asked, now moving to the kitchen to get a better view of Tsukishima, his smile quickly fading.

"Why does it matter?" He asked, annoyance visible on his face and voice.

She shrugged, "Just doesn't seem like something you'd do,"

He let out a sigh while picking up another bite with his fork, "Yeah well I did it Etsuko,"

"Jeez, what's your problem?"

It was as if she knew just how to push Tsukishimas buttons like she was destined to be here and get on his nerves, and she wasn't always like this but lately, it was like her sole purpose was to interrogate and bother him.

Instead of giving in to her, Tsukishima decided to remain quiet and enjoy the shortcake, hoping she'd give up and go back to her original spot on the couch.

The entire night you couldn't wipe the smile off your face, despite what Tsukishima said, you considered him your friend.

Waking up the sunbeams shone across your face, welcoming you to another day filled with new possibilities, you loved mornings, it was like a second chance, any mistakes you made yesterday were, well, yesterday's news. You loved how the sun looked as it rose above the buildings, it was a beautiful sight to wake up to.

Looking at the clock it read six o'clock, you needed to be at work in an hour, it would be your first day back in a week do to moving and you were extremely excited to be back and baking, maybe you'd bring your new friend a sweet treat home.

Opening your door you were met with the sight of Tsukishima locking his door, he had a plain white shirt on and a pair of blue jeans while he carried a plain hoodie on his side, as well as his usual headphones around his neck.

"Tsukishima!" You cheerfully greeted him as you walked up to him, you couldn't hear it but you knew he sighed, he always did that to you, so much so you've gotten used to it.

"Why're you up so early," He asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question in his voice while you walked to the elevator together.

"Well, today I start work again at the bakery two blocks from here! I'm super excited about it, I've been missing work lately." You explained.

Tsukishima found your enthusiasm for things quite annoying, he couldn't understand how you could be so excited and cheerful this early in the morning.

"What do you have planned today, tsuki?" You beamed, pressing the floor button on the elevator.

Tsukishima would never admit it but he did like the way you said his nickname, it was different from how everyone else said it, and it was innocent in a way.

"College classes, and practice," He dully said, watching the doors close while he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Practice?"

"Volleyball practice,"

You made a sound of excitement and admiration, "Youre a volleyball player? Thats so cool!" You said, looking up at him.

"It's not that cool," He sneered.

"Well, it makes sense! Youre like crazy tall and strong,"

Your compliments were almost enough to bring a blush to his cheeks, and he was thankful the elevator doors opened before you could get any more innocent compliments in.

"You know it's gonna be cold today, right?" He asked, looking your outfit up and down.

"It is?" You asked worriedly, in your rush to get ready you completely forgot to check the weather, and you still had to walk to work in the cold.

"Couldn't even check the weather," He sighed, shoving his hoodie into your hands.

"Tsuki.." You nervously said.

"Dont thank me, just dont let it happen again," He sternly said.

"No, it's just," You paused, looking down embarrassed.

"What?" He asked, raising his brow at your form. It was unlike you to be shy and nervous.

You took a deep breath, "What if it doesn't fit," You meekly said.

That thought hadn't crossed Tsukishimas mind, mostly because he didn't care about that sort of thing.

"It will," He simply stated, motioning for you to put it on.

This was a side of Tsukishima you weren't used to, you had expected him to laugh at your embarrassment, or just ignore you, but it gave you enough will to pull the hoodie over your head and he was right, it did in fact fit. His scent invaded your being, and a small blush rose to your cheeks.

Tsukishima hoped you didn't see his own blush at the sight of you in his hoodie. He didn't know why he was being so nice to you right now, but hearing you say it wouldn't fit irked something inside of him.

"Thanks, Tsuki," You looked up at him with a soft smile.

"Whatever," He turned away from you and walked out of the entrance to the complex, placing his headphones on his ears and taking out his phone.

You smiled the entire way to the bakery, with a warm feeling in your stomach with every inhale of Tsukishimas scent.

You felt disappointment for the first time when you approached your work because entering meant you'd have to take off the hoodie since you didn't want to get it covered in batter and flour.

Walking to the back towards the employee lockers you greeted the familiar faces of your employees with a cheery smile, disappointment soon being washed over with glee as you carefully hanged the hoodie in your locker and tied your apron around your waist ready to begin the day.

You always loved this job since the moment you got it, it truly was a blessing to you, you get paid for doing things you love and you get to meet all different kinds of people.

You noticed a girl standing by the counter and rushed over.

"Hello!" You greeted her with a bright smile, excited to meet a new person, you hadn't seen her here before.

"So, youre Tsukishimas new neighbor?"

The question had caught you off guard and a confused look appeared on your face, "Yeah?" You replied though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

"Well, he's my boyfriend," She stated.

You raised your eyebrow at her, what kind of reaction was she trying to get out of you?

"Good for you?"

"You should hear the things he's been saying about you," She sneered.

You didn't like where this conversation was going, and it angered you that you could tell where it'd go.

You didn't like feeling angry, in fact, it was one of the few things you hated, because when you felt angry you also felt sad, and sadness usually led to slumps where you didn't feel like doing anything and where life feels meaningless.

"If you aren't gonna get anything then please leave," You tried to hang onto the last string of cheerfulness you had, the last string of patience with her. You didn't want to be angry at her since she was clearly someone special to Tsukishima and you'd hate to genuinely upset him.

"Just know he isn't who you may think he is," She said before turning and taking her leave.

You weren't sure what to make of the encounter, you didn't know if you should be mad or upset, and you knew Tsukishima could be rude but would he really talk bad about you behind your back? Is it even worth asking? Maybe you'd just take the hint and leave him alone like he always wanted you to, and looking back now you should've seen it sooner, all his one-worded replies and the way he addressed you with such coldness. You'd just give him what he wanted.

The day came and went and it was time for you to head back home, only this time Tsukishima's hoodie was clenched in your fist, and the emotions you'd been repressing all day bubbled back up like soda, you understood you hadn't known him for long but you considered him a friend and you thought he did the same in his own antisocial rude way.

You were so lost in thought you didn't even care how harsh the cold was nipping at your skin and you only realized when you entered the warm lobby of your apartment, that the warmth instantly engulfed you as you shuddered away the cold. You silently prayed that you wouldn't cross paths with Tsukishima, but your prayers were cut short when you heard a voice from behind you, and it didn't take much to guess who it was.

You were surprised that he was the one greeting you, but you wouldn't give in, this is what he wanted. As soon as you entered the elevator you started spamming the close door button but in two strides he was already in, damn him and those long legs.

Tsukishima instantly caught on to the attitude change towards himself. Usually, you'd be chatting his ear off, talking about everything and anything and he'd be there, listening to every word of it while acting like he wasn't. Like how two days ago while walking to the elevator you were talking about the nature documentaries you watched and how they always made you cry but you could never turn them off. But now you were quiet, and looking everywhere but him, he didn't like it one bit. In fact, he hated it.

"Did you burn a bread roll or something?" He sneered, trying to gauge any sort of reaction out of you, a smile, a laugh, a look, anything.

Well he did get a reaction, you shoved his hoodie into his chest and sped off to your door, slamming it shut before he could even get a word in.

He sighed and headed for his, disappointment spreading through his body when his eyes met his girlfriends.

Tsukishima softly closed the door and kicked off his shoes, his mind still on you and the way you completely ignored him earlier. He tried racking his brain on what he could've possibly done to upset you other than ignore you, be rude, give you the cold shoulder, be dry. But he thought you understood and didn't care about all that stuff, though he could admit maybe he took the whole act a bit too far at times. He started to feel like a jerk, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he should apologize to you. The only thing is he wasn't sure how to or where to start.

It had been a week since you last spoke to Tsukishima, and it had been five days since you last stood in the same elevator, he was partially okay with you not speaking to him but purposefully avoiding him? He decided today was the day he'd try and make things right with you. Even he couldn't believe his thoughts right now, never in a million years did he think he'd be going out of his way to try and get someone's forgiveness. But the days spent without you were quiet and dull, he no longer liked waking up, and he no longer liked the way the sun glared in his glasses, in fact, he found it once again absurd.

Tsukishima missed having you as a friend.

He missed your rambles, he missed being able to talk about his day in short sentences, and he missed you and the feelings you erupted in him.

And as soon as he awoke he found himself walking to your apartment, he wasn't sure what he was gonna say or how hed say it, or even how you replied but he knew he needed to do something if he was gonna keep you in his life.

He knocked twice, and after a few moments, you appeared, dressed in black pajama shorts that rode up a bit too high and a crop top. He could tell he had woken you up by the way you rubbed your eyes and how your hair was going in all directions. But even now, the sight of you made his heart rate increase.

You were stunned to see Tsukishima in your doorway, he looked like he hadnt had a good nights sleep.

"Yeah?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked outright. You were surprised he even noticed you were intentionally avoiding him.

"Isn't that what you want?" Your voice cracked, you were trying your hardest to remain standing strong in front of him, not wanting to reveal that you genuinely miss talking to him.

"No, it's not," He spoke softly, looking you in your eyes to scan your reactions, to see if you showed any signs of wanting him to leave.

"Well, that's not what your actions say,"

"I know, and I apologize for giving you the wrong impression"

You stayed silent for a while, taking in the moment and trying to find the words to say to him.

"Then why did your girlfriend come to my job and tell me you've been saying all kinds of stuff?" You felt tears prick in the corners of your eyes and you internally cursed yourself for letting your facade slip.

Tsukishima felt anger bubble inside of him, of course, Etsuko had something to do with this, his days could've been filled with you, but they weren't, and of course, it was her fault.

"Listen, Tsuki, I appreciate you apologizing but,"

"She is lying, i haven't said anything bad about you, and I couldn't even if I wanted to,"

You didn't understand what he meant by even if he wanted to, the whole situation was confusing to you, why would she lie about something like that? What could she possibly gain by saying that to you? All sorts of questions were floating around your head and Tsukishima seemed to notice that.

"I want us to be friends again," He said, letting a small smile onto his face as he watched your eyes brighten. He was glad, the sight of you on the brink of tears brought a sort of sadness to his core.

"Tsuki," You paused, "Did you just say what I think you just said?"

He let out his usual sigh, "I'm not gonna say it again,"

"Just one more time?" You beamed, "I'll never ask again," You stepped closer to him, looking up with a pleading look, how could he ever say no? Well, he could and he did.

"No,"

You let out a sound of defeat. You both stood there for a few silent moments, just staring at each other with small smiles. Tsukishima was glad to be back on good terms with you, he knew he'd enjoy the mornings again, and he'd enjoy seeing the sun peek through the blinds because that meant hed get to talk to you for another day, hed get to see and hear you talk about the most random things, you'd once again be the highlight of his day.

"Wanna do something?"

"Like what?" You asked, raising a brow.

"Show me that show you were talking about a week ago, Euphoria? If you aren't too busy,"

You let out a shriek of happiness and pulled him inside by his shirt and dragged him to your dimly lit living room.

You plopped down on the couch and motioned for him to do the same as you turned on the TV. You were happy he apologized despite it taking him a week to do so, but you were glad to have your friend back, you had missed your mostly one-sided conversations, but you knew he was listening to you despite his actions saying otherwise.

You had gotten ten minutes into the first episode and there was already an intimate scene, and even though you both were already silent, the silence seemed to thicken as you both refused to look anywhere but the screen, if you moved would it show that you were uncomfortable? You probably should've warned him about how many intimate scenes were in this show. The closeness of Tsukishima did nothing to calm the awkwardness.

You reached for the remote to try and skip ahead but your hand was stopped by his, and you quickly turned to look at him, a bright blush adorning your cheeks at the contact.

Tsukishima wasnt one to like things, in fact, he hated most things, but you were certainly not one of them.

"I can't stay away from you," He said softly.

Your heart was racing, you didn't know what he meant by that or what way he meant it.

"Then dont,"

navi. tags. rules. © 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ please don't copy, translate, or post any of my work without my permission !

part two >>

[bread-toast]

pt1 pt2

thinking about…

teacher!gojo who hasn’t talked to you since he was a teenager

teacher!gojo who spends all of his time alone on missions, lesson planning, and training his students

teacher!gojo who despite his goofy demeanor is strangely repulsed whenever shoko teases and jokes about setting up a blind date for him; who only ever considered you when it came to romance

teacher!gojo who knows it would be crazy for you to give him a second chance after your high school fall-out

teacher!gojo who’s busy schedule leaves him longing for rest but can hardly get his three hours of sleep when you consume his thoughts

teacher!gojo who gives in after so many restless nights and realizes he needs to get over you

teacher!gojo who coincidentally sees you on the arm of another man on his way to his blind date and goes absolutely berserk

teacher!gojo who knows he has no right to be jealous over what could have been (it was his fault that nothing happened between you two after all!)

teacher!gojo who can no longer stand the ache in his chest when you transfer to Jujustu Tech as a new teacher and you greet him oh-so formally in the dingy break room

teacher!gojo who’s balls his fists but stays silent every time you leave work eying his figure, regret so obviously present in your eyes

teacher!gojo who finally decides to talk to you again, your constant presence overwhelming him with guilt

teacher!gojo who swore he would be collected but spills out apologies resisting voice cracks and tears when he notices your glassy eyes and quivering lips

teacher!gojo who embraces you with a longing saved over a decade of isolation

teacher!gojo who lets down his infinity for you to weep in his arms and punch his chest for being so difficult all those years ago

teacher!gojo who listens while you recall his actions between sobs

teacher!gojo who only holds you tighter, closer to him as if to never let you go again

teacher!gojo who starts visiting your classroom with snacks between breaks and making up for lost time

teacher!gojo who arrives to school early for the first time ever, standing outside Jujustu Tech’s gate waiting in the snow with a bouquet blushing like a schoolboy

teacher!gojo who knows he’s rushing it, but he just can’t wait to be yours anymore than he has!

teacher!gojo who gives his first genuine smile in years when you meet him gasping in delight at his out of the ordinary demeanor and gifts

teacher!gojo who confesses to you, the memories of years prior so bittersweet and he’s trying not to cry when he senses hesitation in your eyes

teacher!gojo who’s the happiest he’s ever been when he realizes that you, the untouchable kind amazing you has given him another chance to be yours

teacher!gojo who lets you wrap your arms around his neck dragging you into a well deserved strawberry-lollipop-flavored-kiss spinning you around in joy

teacher!gojo who’s heart drops when he notices that the bushes and trees behind you start to fade, dreading the truth he had known from the start when he sees your face get more and more blurry

teacher!gojo who only wants to deny what his six-eyes tell him for as long as he can

teacher!gojo who wakes up alone in bed, blindfold soaked in salty tears when he realizes he had dreamt of you again.

teacher!gojo who forces himself out of bed, not bothering to put on a coat as he makes his way out of his apartment

teacher!gojo who’s found the next morning by shoko, puffy eyed and unmoving by your grave

teacher!gojo who knows deep down that if he had acted sooner, confessed sooner, finished off that curse sooner, done anything sooner you might have, no, you would have still been with him happily together

teacher!gojo who knows that no matter how hard he tries, he is always too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed! English isn’t my first language and it’s one of my first times trying writing but I really enjoyed these hcs! I wanted to give this a happy ending to satisfy everyone who read pt1, but I just couldn’t find a way to do so while writing. I want to work on a few one-shots soon, so I’ll definitely have a happy ending for gojo on a more fine tuned piece! Please let me know if you have any recommendations on improving writing and any requests for fics in the future!

[itsgivingmami]

One bed trope? Plus hear me out…reader has a nightmare

31- Rhea Ripley

Sorry this took actual years, was slacking for holidays😅 she’s a long one troops. I wish thee luck. Comments, notes and reblong always appreciated

   “your sweet speaking and lovely laughing—oh it

puts the heart in my chest on wings for when I look at you, a moment, then no speaking is left in me”

Rhea fucking loathed Canada. Going up to cross the border always instilled an overwhelming dread and irritation any time of the year, but especially bloody winter. Snow the first couple times not having it growing up was magical, until she came to realise that it freezes your hair and your never really comfortable in a winter jacket just cold but somehow sweaty at the same time. To this day she fails to understand why anyone would revel in living inside a fucking ice cube for months at a time.

    Her feet felt wet in her boots as she over heated in the smallest hotel lobby she's ever seen, in its defence it may be the crowd of wrestlers and crew packed into the small space of this- where even the fuck were they? Her eyes glanced to you to ask but seeing your furrowed brow staring at your phone made her pause.

    "All good?" Nothing about this is really great, but at least they're safe. They had emergency landed at the nearest available runway to combat the incoming storm and though she doesn't mean it; she considers braving that more appealing than being stuffed into a room with a random person from the company.

       "Trying to get you a refund for the other hotel," She wants to tell you not to worry about it, she'd hardly notice the charge anyhow but doesn't want to come off like she's show boating her wealth and allows you to continue to do, well, your job.

    "Apparently we're all grouping up," she hears from somewhere and signs in relief at least bringing her assistant with her guaranteed she wouldn't be with a stranger. She let out a yawn, eyes watering as she scanned the room. Her colleagues look the same as her, exhausted, ready to lay down and not super excited about the situation they'd ended up in.

    The next hour is a blur of shuffling and key distribution, it's nearly one in the morning by the time someone hands her a key card. You're next to her on the love seat with your knees pulled up resting your head on a hand, eyes closed.

    "Hey," she gently touches your knee and your dark eyes flutter open, Rhea feels bad waking you but if you two can at least get to a room she knows you'll be comfier. She's recently hired you as a personal assistant and with the recent travel stretch she could see the new experience taking its toll. She finds seeing you tired harder than she expected but ignores the way her chest tightens "We've got a room,"

    "Oh sorry," you quickly throw out and she shakes her head, you'd been constantly apologetic since your first day. It was something she'd learned was just a habit and focused on the fact that you'd seemed to finally stop calling her ma'am and celebrated that small victory. "Didn't even realise I'd dozed off," Rhea grabs the strap of your bag from the small coffee table as you lift your glasses onto your head and rub your eyes.

    "We've been awake for too long we should both be dozing," Rhea answers quickly as you go to mention your bag and turns towards the hallway. You take some faster steps to catch up with her long stride along the awful pattern carpet, the amber lights illuminating the way until finding yourselves in front of a chipping burgundy door. She slides the key into the lock and it changes from red to green with an echoed click. Rhea pushes the handle and the door swings open, her eyes look for a chair to place your bags on but her gaze stops on the middle of the room where a single queen size mattress sits. "Bloody hell," Rhea swears under her breath, you come in the room behind her, you both stare at the bed in silence.

     "I'll take the fl-" you stop mid sentence as Rhea stares at you, despite working for her over a month now you still found her in ring and out of ring personality lines blurry. You'd seen first hand what she could do angry in the ring and had made it your soul mission to make sure you'd never make her upset.

     "We can share I'm not that high maintenance," Rhea explains and chuckles which does little ease the tension weighing down around you both. "If I ever get that far up my own ass you oughta punch me,"

"That definitely seems like a breech of my contract," you joke back with an airy giggle. Did you have to keep bringing that up? The fact that she was technically your boss as she definitely she not be having certain types of thoughts about you in general.

"You should grab a shower first, get rid of any left over chill," Rhea tells you keeping her back turned as she drops tour bags onto the end of the bed. The only bed. You want to offer it back, she does have a match but she gives you that stare again. It's overwhelming but comforting, the way she refuses to put herself over you.

   "I won't be long," you assure you and she smiles tightly at you and you practically sprint into the room and shut the door.

    "Take your time," Rhea answers to the empty room, hers legs giving out as she sits on the bed. She hears the pipes squeak as the water turns on and she finally relaxes for a moment. Mentally her chastising herself that she needed to get it together if she was going to make it through this.

     Rhea thought she was used to this feeling by now. She had seen your face or heard your voice every single day for the last thirty days and each time it happened was a test of patience, a lesson in self control and slowly it had been getting easier. Or well, she thought so. Maybe it was the setting, an older hotel with soft lighting. An eye to the snow storm in this god awful country. Maybe it was the fact that the whipping winds outside and blowing snow make this feel separate from the real world. The world where you're only her assistant, the world where she has to get up for the gym in six hours, the world where she's unsure.

   She huffs and stands back up walking away towards the window before turning and staring at the mattress. Was it getting smaller? Her strong hands rake through her hair, no longer bothering to keep let fringe styled forward, she unpacks her phone charger and something to change into ignoring the pit in her stomach and the voice screaming that no matter how normal she tried to make this, it was definitely something new.

"Rhea?" Her inner turmoil is cut off when you call her and she spins around quickly. Confusion painting her face as she stares at the cracked bathroom door, light and steam coming through, "I- Uh, could you pass my bag please?"

Oh. OH. She froze for a second as her brain caught up and moved to grab your bag which was sure enough left behind on the bed. She lands a foot from the door,

"I've got it here," she watches as you peek around the door, wet hair pushed over on shoulder, water droplets shining in the light on your face.

"Thanks," you murmur staring up at her and quietly slink back behind the door. Rhea stands in place watching the air where you just were and swallows thickly. That confirms it, she's screwed.

You're feeling a similar way when your left alone in the room, barely having said more than a sentence to Rhea as you'd traded to embarrassed that she had seen you in a towel and more embarrassed by the fact that you wouldn't mind showing her more. The thoughts pop up before you can stop them placing the blame on the jet lag but deep down you know it had nothing to do with it. Feeding yourself a convenient excuse just like you had every day since starting your employment.

Staring at her hands? No no you were admiring her tattoos or even her jewellery. She'd offer the pieces to you when she caught your gaze and you'd turn her down politely, between not wanting to give her any reason to think you were imaging about all the activities you could day dream while looking at her fingers move and the fact that she wore silver when you preferred gold it seemed like a safer choice to not accept her gestures. It was dizzying to you that the person who could make you cower with her stare could be so kind hearted.

Between the flying, the arguing with the airline company and being cold for hours your body is starting so fight back, clawing for sleep and you pace back and forth. Staring daggers at the bed for its inability to magically split in two and how comfortable it was looking as you grew more exhausted.

“No: tongue breaks, and thin fire is racing under skin

and in eyes no sight and drumming fills ears”

     Rhea nearly melted when she saw you asleep on the bed your phone tumbled beside your slack hand and you breathe softly. She's grateful that your unconsciousness had saved her from doing the which side dance. Carefully stepping towards you she gently pulls the sheets from under your legs, freezing when you adjust and murmur at her before settling again. Rhea lets out a breath and pulls the covers up your body. She flips the lamp on your side and it turns off with a metallic clank.

    Staring at the empty spot beside you she starts to breathe heavier and stalls by going to check the door that locks automatically and close the curtains. A yawn bubbles up as she's wandering around and her eye lids are getting heavier with each second. Her body moves to the bed as if it's calling and she pulls the covers back on her side before sitting down. Shes sure she looks ridiculous moving a slowly as possible and freezing with every sound.

       Rhea watches you peacefully, the soft light from under the door and the moon outside casting a heavenly glow on you. There's a part of her that feels like a creep watching you and she stares up at the ceiling for a moment. You scare the shit out of her when her your foot hits her calf, followed by a quiet whimper. Her eyes widened as she looked to you, your face scrunched in distress.

     "Hey," she whispers to you softly as her hand lightly hovers over your bare shoulder, still hesitant to touch you especially like this. Your body jerks in place again and she watches your hands curl into tight fists. "Mhm you'll hurt yourself," she tells you but you don't hear her and your unconscious body shakes. Rhea reaches for your hands trying to prevent harm, your skin is clammy on hers and she swallows thickly in fear. "Wake up for me,"

“and cold sweat holds me and shaking grips me all, greener than grass”

    You're not sure if it's the terror your sleeping brain is causing, the assertiveness of Rheas voice or feeling her nails in your hair but your eyes snap open and you gasp loudly. Desperately clinging to the nearest thing you don't even realise you've got a wrestler level trap hold on her body, or that you're holding her at all. You take in air in short shallow breaths, vision a blur of black that is Rheas clothing and warm tears.

    "It's me it's Rhea," she cooes to you, the grip you have on her holding strong and it urges her to pull you closer. "You're safe,"

      Your mouth opens to speak but nothing except a choked cry comes out, you feel Rhea pull you upwards allowing more air into your lungs as she pulls your arms over her muscular shoulders.

    "Can you hear me?" She asks and you nod against her chest, a heavy hand rubs your back and it's comforting to you both as she feels your breathing slowing. "Good girl," she says relieved. You two sit in silence for a while, small residue hiccups leaving you.

    "Th-thank you," peeling your fingers from her feels like glue as your back straightens, your arms feel like stone as they fall from her to your sides. "I had a nightmare,"

      "Yeah I-," Rhea covers her mouth with her hand not allowing the chuckle to come out, "I figured,"

     "I don't usually have those," you rasp, eyes trained on the sheets below "I don't even remember,"

   "Exhaustion and sleep deprivation make them more likely," Rhea explains, voice lowered as guilt floods her, "I pushed you too far I'm sorry,"

    "No you didn't I made the decision I'm a grown woman," you affirmed and Rhea groaned. You tried to scoot backwards but she reaches for your fore arm.

    "Yes a woman," Rhea agrees, you watch her carefully. "A woman that I can't pretend I'm not falling for, assistant or not I just can't pretend," her eyes meet yours, her gaze stronger than you'd ever seen it as you stay locked to her. "That I don't want you,"

You find yourself speechless as her confession echoes in your ears. Biting the inside of your cheek to make sure you're actually awake before you move your arms back around her shoulders and pull her flush against you. She pulls your body to straddle her as you hug tightly, getting as close as possible to each other.

"I want-," you stutter out finally finding words, as her arms fold against the small of your back. You pull back to come face to face with her, you teary eyes looking into hers. "I want you too,"

720 hours worth of self control build up had crumbled within the raven haired woman holding you, her lips find yours as you let out a gasp of surprise before your lips meld together and she swallows your small noises. Rhea tastes like tooth paste and her lips claim yours, you smile against her lips feeling her tongue ring hit your lip and she takes the opportunity to explore your mouth.

Your stomach feels like it’s floating as Rheas hands run your body, now that she finally has you she’s forgotten what it was like to have distance between your bodies. She occasionally separates from your lips allowing you to breath each others air as she places soft kisses on the sides of you mouth and your chin. She cups your jaw and uses her thumb to wipe the drool that fell from your mouth before gently pulling on your bottom lip. You watch her eyes stare hungrily at her action and the moment your lips snaps back up she’s in your mouth again.

“I am and dead—or almost”

~

“That emergency landing was the shits,” Damian complains as he plops down next to Rhea, who’s sitting in the middle plane seat despite you telling her you could take it.

“Punks a fucking beast of a snorer,”

Rheas hand squeezes yours, pressed between your two bodies and the seat. She looks to you for a moment and grins before turning back to Damian.

“Fucking awful,” Rheas tells him but can’t hide the grin on her face,

“Just intolerable,” you add smiling.

“I seem to me”

Sappho- Fragment 31

[miserable-sarah]

I Care 18+

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: NSFW, smut, 18+, fingering, oral (F), mentions of blood, bad language, unprotected sex, praising. Requested: Heyyy, idk of ur requests are open but if they are can u please write a dean Winchester x ex girlfriend smut who is a hunter and who dean is still not over. Sam and Dean rescue her from a vampire nest and dean is angry and worried after her and she's all like "stop acting like you care" and he says something like "I'll show u how much I care" + angst + kinda enemies x lovers + dark dean? + marking ; ( set in early seasons llke;1,2,3) A/N: I did make a few changes, let me know if you enjoy it! Thanks!

~

You've been hunting down this nest of vampires for a while. It was a big nest, bigger than you've ever seen. It's a hard job alone but you're confident enough in yourself to do it.

Well at least that's what you thought, you see you went into the nest killing almost all of the vampires that were there. You somehow missed calculated the amount. You got taken down and now you're tied up with no way out. You are dreading this, you have no one coming to save you. You're not scared, you're angry. you're mad that they caught you, and mad that you can't get out by yourself. You don't want to be turned into a vampire or have all of your blood drained from your body. So this sucks. You can hear the vamps talking about something they're too quiet to make anything out.

"Hey! Are you guys gonna do anything with me or?" You ask getting annoyed, you'd rather just die now. They just ignore you of course. So you start singing at the top of your lungs to annoy them, they have "super hearing", you know it bothers them. You continue for a couple minutes until someone, you're assuming the head vamp, comes over to you right in your face.

"Shut up!" He yells in your face "I'll kill you right now!" Just as you were about to say something, you hear a commotion. The head vampire cuts your stomach making you wince, then he leaves without saying a word.

"Aw come on, don't leave me here." You say in a stale tone. "We were having fun." you add. After a couple minutes, you don't hear anything.

"Well, well, look at who we have here."

"Oh, fucking kill me." You mumble to yourself.

"Couldn't handle the nest?" Dean smirks at you. You don't say a word just ignore him. "A thank you would be nice."

"Dean, leave her alone." Sam says to him, Sam comes over to you and unties you.

"Thank you, Sam." You smile at him. You glare at Dean.

"Are you alright?" Dean drops his tough guy act.

"Fine." You say sternly, you walk away from the boys trying to leave the building. You however, weren't fine. You were bleeding and had no idea.

"You're bleeding pretty bad." Dean says to you.

"It's fine, it's nothin-" You look down and see what he's talking about. You're covered in blood. You lift up your shirt and see a huge cut on your stomach. "Oh no." You feel dizzy and then Dean's arms around you as you fall.

~

You wake up in a motel room, not unusual.

"Dean?" You say softly looking around the room.

"Hey, you okay?" He answers, he sits next to you placing his hand on your back.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks." You mumble. You stand up even though your stomach is in pain.

"You should relax for at least a few more hours."

"Nah, I'm good." You say looking around for your things.

"Y/n, I'm serious." Dean says to you in a frustrated tone.

"Dean, I don't care. I'm fine."

"Y/n! Sit down!" He gets angry with you.

"No!" You yell, you have to hold back a wince. He's right you are hurt but you're not going to sit in a room with your ex boyfriend because you're hurt. You can recover somewhere else.

"You're hurt. Something can happen to you!"

"Oh and now you care?" You roll your eyes. "Stop acting like you care."

That was it for Dean. He stood up and got right in your face. "You don't think I care, huh?" He chuckled at you. "I'll show you how much I care." He said with promise. Dean smashes his lips on yours, at first it took you by surprise but you came around to it very quickly. You kiss back but then pull away.

"Dean what are you doing?" You say trying to push him away but he doesn't budge. "We can't, I mean we broke up. It's been months-"

Dean has been on your mind since you two broke up. It was over something stupid, literally so stupid you don't even remember what it was about. You were in love with Dean, well you still are. He treated you like a princess, but like a bad ass princess. He was your safe place and you were his. When you broke up it just so happened to also be a really bad time in his life and he needed to leave. So he did, you two never got to fix what was broken.

"Stop talking." Dean interrupts you. You go to say something else, Dean cuts you off by kissing you, again. This time you immediately kiss back. You slide his jacket off and tug at his shirt. He breaks the kiss to lift his shirt off. Your hands run down his muscular body. You almost moan in excitement.

Dean carefully took off your shirt, trying not to hurt you. He unclipped your bra and tossed across the room. His hands gently massaged your breasts, you let out a little whine. You've been so needy for him it's pathetic. Dean picks you up effortlessly and drops you on the bed. He unbuttons your jeans and slides them off your body, you can feel yourself getting wet with anticipation. Dean hovers over your body he kisses you softly, then your neck, down to your chest, then down your stomach and all the way to your panty line.

"Dean, please" You beg quietly. You hear Dean chuckling.

"Patience sweethheart." He says as he slowly takes off your panties. He kisses up your legs to thighs incredibly slowly. You groan in frustration Dean ignores your frustration.

"Please!" You beg louder.

"Look at how wet you are." He smiles at you "All for me?" He smirks.

"Yes" You moan softly.

Dean finally enters a finger in you, you moan in relief. He watches your face making sure you're enjoying it, he enters another finger and thrusts them deep curving his fingers to make sure he hits your g-spot. You moan louder at the feeling, it's been months since you've been with Dean, well anyone for that matter. Dean always knew what to do to please you though, he just knew your body so well.

"You like that baby?" He asks, you nod and moan "Words" He says

"Yes, Dean." You say softly.

"Good girl." He smirks at you. Dean dips his head between your thighs, you feel his tongue directly on your clit.

"Oh my god." You let your head hit the bed and close your eyes. Dean continues to pump his fingers in and out of you while his tongue dances around your clit. It feels so amazing. You start to buck your hips, he puts his arm around your hips to hold you down.

He adds a third finger stretching you out for him. You moan and whine, it feels good but you want him. All of him.

"Dean, please" You pant. He ignores you, he keeps sucking and licking your clit. "please." you whimper. He still doesn't listen. Your legs are shaking and you try to squeeze your thighs together but Dean won't let you. Your moans become more desperate. "Feels so good" He keeps going he can tell your close by the way you're squeezing his fingers.

Your buck your hips up, you let out a loud moan, your vision goes blurry and you see stars. Dean slowly pulls his fingers out, you look down at him out of breath. He licks his lips then smiles at you.

"You taste good." He slowly crawls up to your face and kisses you. You kiss back and pull him closer. You reach your hand down his stomach and realize he's taken off his jeans. You palm him through his boxers, he lets out a groan. Dean takes your hand and puts it down his boxers you take his invitation and pump his cock slowly. Dean kisses and bites your neck. You pull your hand out and pull his boxers down springing him free. He moans at your movements.

You tried moving to get on top of Dean but he stopped you. "You're hurt. Let me take care of you." he says kissing your forehead. He lightly brushes his hands down your body to your legs, he places them around his waist. He lines himsef up with you and slowly enters you. You and Dean let out a loud moan. "You feel so good." He says through his teeth. "So nice and tight."

"You're so big." You arch your back.

"I've missed you." He says he leans down and kisses you, you kiss back. He rests his forehead on yours, in this moment everything feels right. It feels like everything is going to be okay. You've missed this feeling.

"You're doing so good, taking all of me." Dean praises "Such a good girl." His words make you weak.

"You feel so good." you moan. Dean switches positions he leans up and places your legs on his shoulders, deepening his thrusts. You moan louder, so does he. His grunts and groans are getting more frequent.

"Damn baby, I've missed this pussy." He brings his fingers to your clit and starts rubbing "I can't believe this is all mine. Only mine."

"Yes, all yours."

"I know." He mumbles. Dean continues to rub your clit causing your legs to shake. You whimper and try to move around. "I know baby, I know." He coos at you. "Feels so good, huh?" You nod. "Words." He reminds you.

"Y-yes." You stutter "So good." He's so focused on pleasing you, his hair is messy, his body is glistening, his grunts and groans are filling the room along with your moans. You can feel your whole body shaking, your walls are clenching around him.

"Damn baby you're squeezing me so tight." Dean moans. His thrusts get deeper and faster. "Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yes" You moan "Feels so good."

"I know, you feel so good too." He groans. "I'm not going to last long with you squeezing me like that."

"I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead baby, cum for me." His fingers rub faster on your sensitive clit, with every thrust he hits your g-spot, his words are ringing through your head. Your body starts twitching, your legs shaking, you close your eyes tight, you try to scream but nothing comes out. Dean helps you ride out your orgasm, soon after you feel him fill you up. He lightly presses his body on yours and catches his breath.

You wrap your arms around Dean and hold him. He kisses your shoulder a few times before rolling off you. "Uh, let me clean you up." He says awkwardly. Dean gets up and grabs some clean towels he cleans you up then cleans himself up. "I'll change your bandage too."

"Dean." You grab his arm. "Just come lay down."

"But-"

"Please." You cut him off. He nods and lays down next to you, you move yourself so you're laying your head on his chest. "I've missed you." You look up at him.

"Me too." He says softly "Sorry-"

"Dean. It's okay. I know you had to go." You cut him off. "I'm sorry I never got to apologize."

"I know." He pulls you a little closer to him.

You're not sure what will happen next, you're hopeful it'll work out between you two. You both have a lot of love for each other, if it's meant to be it will be. But for right now all you want to do is enjoy your night with Dean Winchester.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter five

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): mentions of drugs/weed but only minor, its an angsty one folks!!

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Madame Pomfrey had the house elves bring up food for you and the other occupants of the Hospital Wing when dinner time rolled around later that day. You enjoyed a plate full of roast chicken, potatoes and mash before the plate was magically vanished upon you finishing it before the matron came to check on you again.

Some time after that, the doors to the Hospital Wing are pushed open with an echoing creak but you didn't look up from your book to see who it was until your copy of Pride & Prejudice was plucked right out of your hands.

"Hey!" you protest, going to grab the book back from Mattheo Riddle's grasp. "Oh it's you."

"You sound so happy to see me." he teases as he sits on the edge of your bed. You stare from the fabric of the bed sheets to where he's sitting with raised brows.

"There's a perfectly good seat right next to you." you grumble as he enters your personal space.

"The seats are uncomfortable, I'd rather not sit on them again after I spent a good hour waiting for you to wake up earlier." he replied, forcing you to move over so that he could fit properly on the bed next to you.

"You stayed?" you asked incredulously. "Why?"

"You passed out the second we all saw Bell on the bed. I was worried. Sue me."

"Awh you care about me." you cooed, jokingly patting his knee before rolling your eyes.

He picked up the book that he had taken from you and flipped it around cover to cover, reading the blurb and scrunching his face up. "What's your book about? I don't understand it."

As you begin to explain Elizabeth Bennett's intricate and turbulent relationship with Mr. Darcy with fervour, Mattheo can't help but stare at you with eyes full of admiration and...something else.

Some time later, the dreaded conversation ended up coming around. You tell him how odd it felt when you saw the necklace; how your weird intuition seemed to carry over to the Hospital Wing when you saw Katie; to Dumbledore's cryptic visit.

"Dumbledore spoke to you?" he asked, curiously.

"Well at first he complimented my Occlimency abilities. Thank you by the way." you start. "But then he asked me about what happened when Katie was cursed."

Mattheo listened as you talked, nodding his head to show that he was paying attention.

"...and then he asked me to tell him what I felt when I touched a ring that he had in his possession."

"A ring?" A look crosses Mattheo's face, but it's gone in an instant.

"The magic was similar to the necklace, but different at the same time." you continue, picturing the Riddle insignia in your mind. "Dumbledore's hand is the way it is because of it."

You didn't know whether you should tell him about what Dumbledore said about Professor Slughorn, that seemed like something Dumbledore would want to be kept under wraps.

"He didn't really give me a solid answer, but he gave me sound career advice." you say with a huff.

"What happened when he gave you the ring?"

"Same thing that happened when I touched Katie. It burned me. But my magic was surrounding the ring this time. It felt...odd."

"Huh." He's quiet for a moment before he changes the subject once more.

"Your friends spoke to Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Snape earlier, after you fainted." he said. "Potter thinks it was Draco that cursed her. Accused him right in front of them."

"Did he do it? Malfoy?" you interject, Harry's theories had become more consistent over the last few weeks, and you weren't surprised to hear that he had suspected that Malfoy was behind this, despite ludicrous the allegations were.

"He had detention with Mcgonagall today. Didn't show up to transfiguration remember? He was pretty pissed off about missing the first Hogsmeade weekend." he says and you recall the detention being issued a few days ago when Malfoy appeared in the doorway of the Transfiguration classroom a quarter of an hour late.

"Right. Yeah." you say tiredly, somewhat unconvinced but you push the feeling aside when he begins to stand.

"Where are you going?" you say with a yawn, reaching for his left forearm. He winces but you don't catch it in your tired state.

"You're getting tired, and it's almost curfew. I need to get back to my common room so I don't risk getting a detention."

"Pansy's patrolling tonight. You'll be fine." you say, dragging him to sit down. "Stay a little longer. At least until I fall asleep. Please?"

The way you looked at him with your big, tired eyes caused him to falter.

"You don't really want me to stay, Princess." he murmured but he didn't move to stand again.

"I hate when you call me that." you say. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise, Mattheo. I don't want to fall asleep alone in here."

"Alright, move over then." his resolve crumbles and he moves to lie down behind you, using an arm around your waist to drag your body closer to his, his body heat warming you from the inside.

It takes you no time at all to fall asleep in his embrace, feeling the most comfortable you'd ever felt in your entire life. In your sleepy haze, you swore you felt him kiss the side of your temple, murmuring into your soft skin.

"Good night, sweetheart." he had whispered, before he fell asleep shortly after you.

~∞~

The week following his visit to the Hospital Wing, your interactions with Mattheo were few and far between.

Your lessons had dwindled after he had first started skipping out on you, but now he seemed hellbent on avoiding you altogether.

He had once again skipped your Ancient Runes lesson that week and Theo proved to be of little help when he refused to tell you where his best friend was. Pansy seemed to be growing increasingly agitated by her two friends over the course of the time Mattheo was ignoring you.

"For Salazar's sake, Teddy. Mattheo's just been a little busy this week." she said. "No need to worry. I think he's been doing extra Potions work."

"Do you know where he is now?" you ask your friend with pleading eyes.

Like Theo, she seemed reluctant to give you the boy's location, as if they knew something that you weren't supposed to know, but in the end they shared a look and relented.

"He's in the Room of Requirement." Teddy says, before his hands gently grip your shoulders. "But we never told you, okay. I don't want to die a premature death, tesoro."

"Thank you. I won't tell him you helped, don't worry Teddy." you reassured him before walking down the corridor and towards the system of staircases that would take you to the seventh floor.

Due to the interval between lessons ending and new ones beginning, it seemed to take you ages to get from point A to B, with everyone lingering in or rushing through the corridors but when you got to the familiar wall, you waited.

I need to see Mattheo.

I need to see Mattheo.

I need to see Mattheo.

I need to-

The door began materialising in front of your eyes, reminiscent of the late evenings that you'd come here with your friends for DA meetings before Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad had it disbanded. Your hand still had that prominent scar from the two weeks of detention you had each received: I must not disobey the Ministry.

When the door was fully formed, you twisted the handle and slipped through.

The room appeared to be huge and full to the brim with piles upon piles of junk. It was going to take you forever to find him, but you knew he was in there somewhere.

You started down a pathway that had appeared between some old arm chairs and bookshelves and followed where your gut was telling you to go.

It was quiet, too quiet and you were about to give up hope when you saw Mattheo lounging on a dark velvet chaise lounge, a blunt hanging in his lips, something shiny resting in his lap that looked an awful lot like a tiara, which he vanished away when he saw you.

"So this is what you do in your spare time?" you ask, hesitantly sitting at the edge of the chaise lounge, by his feet.

He only sighed as he took another hit of the blunt, leaving you to carry on speaking without a reply.

"How'd you even get that into the school? It's more illegal for wizards to get their hands on than muggles." you turn your head to face him only to find him staring straight ahead, avoiding your gaze altogether.

You huffed before you stood up and rounded the chaise to stand directly in front of him; he continued to stare in the opposite direction.

"For Rowena's sake, Riddle. Look at me." you snapped, using the pads of your fingers to firmly direct his face to yours.

His gaze was void of emotions when he stared at you. Like it had been all the times before when he'd antagonise Harry or Ron with his friends. His eyes were no longer soft like they had been with you these past months. They were cold and dark and angry.

If you hadn't have grown some sort of friendship with him, if you could even call it that, then you'd happily go on ignoring his existence again. But for some reason, you couldn't shake him, wouldn't shake this hold he had on you.

"What do you want, Meadow?" he asked, voice low and raspy, as if he'd not spoken in a while. "I thought you'd get the hint by now? Or are you seriously that stupid?"

"You confuse the absolute fuck out of me, Riddle." you say, beginning to grow annoyed at his apparent nonchalance. "What's your issue? You agree to help me out for Theo's sake and the second it gets complicated you what? You just....leave?"

"'S not like we're mates, Meadow." he grumbles, rolling his eyes as he takes another hit. "Actually I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be enemies."

"The whole point of the lessons is for me to help you and your friends get out, is it not?"

"To get them out. Not me. That wasn't the deal." he snaps.

"I agreed to help. That includes you, too."

"And how did you honestly expect that to go down? Huh!" he stood up so suddenly that you stumbled backwards, into the table that was behind you.

"How do you think the Order will react when you go to them, pleading for my case? The son of The Dark Lord on their side? They'd sooner call you a traitor for even associating with any of us." he had gotten closer to you, so much so that the toes of his shoes kissed your's.

"They would be understanding. If you told them how much you hate him-"

"And you think they'd actually believe that?" he snaps, stepping even closer to you. You had to press your hands against his firm chest to stop him trapping you further against the table. "They'd show mercy to Theo and the others. That's all I care about. I didn't want any of them to be involved. You need to get them out. Not me."

"But why?" you question harshly, looking at him through your lashes. His brown eyes were pure onyx now, no traces of the boy you'd gotten to know were present.

"I am my father's son, sweetheart. My fate has been sealed since the day I was born. There's no helping me." he says quietly, his eyes boring into your's.

"Let me help you. Please." you say resolutely. "We'll think of something. They have to hear you out."

"They won't."

"They have to." you insist. "What kind of people would they be if they refuse to help someone in need."

"They can't help someone who can't be saved, sweetheart."

"For fuck's sake Mattheo! Why are you being so stubborn?!" you snap, your voice raising in octaves that surprises both of you.

"Why are you so determined to save me?" he shouts back, leaning down so that your faces are level. His hands sit on either side of your thighs, bracketing you to the table as his breathe huffs against your cheek, the scent of weed and smoke overtaking your senses. He's breathing heavily, eyes flicking between your's and your lips. Mattheo seems to be holding onto what little resolve he has left before the unthinkable happens.

He's staring at your lips now. Your breathe hitches as he seems to contemplate something but you can't see his thoughts very clearly.

It's only a split second decision but you can see it, the moment he decides to let go.

"Fuck it." he mumbles before his mouth decends on your's. In your shock you don't realise that you've practically frozen until he pulls away with wide eyes.

"Shit- Meadow I'm sorry I-" you snap out of your frozen state and don't let him finish his sentence as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and kiss him like your life depended on it.

The feeling is euphoric. His lips are like a warm and gentle hug against your own; it feels right. Like the missing piece of a never ending puzzle was finally put back into place. You're so in your head that you don't even register the unceremonious moan you let out when Mattheo's tongue sensually brushes your own. It allows him to deepen the kiss and you think you might die happily right then and there, with his soft lips on your's.

Gods, sweetheart. he groans, his inhibitions down, so you feel everything he feels. Every thought and every desire. If I knew kissing you felt this good, I would've done that much sooner.

When you eventually pull away from eachother, only a hair of space was left between you, your breathing equally heavy.

His onyx eyes held that familiar softness that he seemed to only show around you, his lips quirked into a cheeky grin.

Merlin, he was the most attractive boy you'd ever layed eyes on. It was then that you realised that you were well and truely fucked.

~∞~

omg they kissed 🫢🫢

the one bed trope gets me every time 🤭🤭 i think we can all agree that mattheos a bit of an idiot but the guy's got his secrets...😁

and i love angst and slow burns so much but i couldn't help myself lol i love a '"fuck it" and they kiss' moment but im sorry this was short. i was contemplating carrying this on or splitting the chapter into two which is what im doing so really this is more of a filled chapter for whats to come ;)

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora

[sakashq]

a happy lamine yamal blurb? a day in together? i love your work! 💞 emphasis on happy

Glue Song 𝜗𝜚 lamine yamal x fem!reader.

🦢 summary. You were feeling sick, but your clingy boyfriend was not going to leave you alone.

🦢 wc. ≈400

🦢 yap! first “no. angst.” now “emphasis on happy”?!?! is sadness just my brand? i’m sorry guys imma fix that soon trust. ☺️💕

🦢 DTS . . . @ar4ujos @halfwayhearted @joaoflms @iovepoem @hrts4havertz @planetpedri <3

You woke up, your throat feeling clogged and your nose stuffed. You were already dreading the day.

You also woke up to your usual ‘good morning beautiful ❤️’ text from Lamine, which almost made everything better. Almost.

You responded with, ‘ahhem, hem, i’m sick 🤒,’ referencing the movie the two of you watched together just nights before. As soon as you responded, Lamine called you.

“Are you actually sick?” He asked you, no greeting or anything.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and respond, “Yes, Lamine.”

“Okay, give me twenty.” Is all he said before hanging up. What did he mean by that?

After twenty minutes you found out. He had gone out to get you breakfast (toast, yogurt, and hot tea) and a small bouquet of flowers. Your mom let him in and he made his way upstairs, surprising you.

“Oh my gosh, Lamine,” you exclaimed, sitting up in bed. “You didn’t have to do any of that.”

He shook his head in disagreement, setting your tray of breakfast on your bed. “No, I definitely did.” He then placed the flowers which were now in a vase on the side table.

You began eating your breakfast silently as he sat down next to you. “Lamine, I’m sick.”

“We’ll be sick together,” he smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“The same since you called me this morning,” you responded. “Did you get yourself anything?”

Lamine nodded, not replying with words. He grabbed the remote to your television and turned on your favorite show, the one he swore he hated, but would always watch with you.

For the next few hours, you and him both rested together cuddled up and watching TV together. At one point you ended up falling asleep, taking a small nap. When you woke up it was 6:00pm, and Lamine was still laying there by your side with you in his arms. He hadn’t noticed you wake up, but you noticed his slight cough.

“Did I get you sick?” You jokingly asked.

“Like I said, we’ll be sick together.”

[ghostgirl101]

LOVE TRIANGLE BETWEEN FEYD FEYD + PAUL 🙏🙏🙏

Being In A Love Triangle With Paul Atreides And Feyd-Rautha Would Be Like This...

A/N: Exam season's over, writing season's started 🖤 sorry for the brief hiatus, but I've got some more stuff coming for Paul this winter since I haven't done proper relationship hcs for him yet, and then I'm gonna bounce around answering fanfic requests for the slashers and stuff 🙃 Keep in mind that requests are not open currently, as I'm catching up with ones already in my inbox for Dune and other dark fandoms.

Warnings: Mid violence.. it's Feyd Rautha, idk what to tell you 😐

Next Week's Fanfic: Oliver Quick being obsessed with you pt. 2 relationship headcanons 😎😎

🏜• CODEPENDENT CODPENDENT CODEPENDENT

🏜• That's the best and simplest way to describe this mess of emotions and twisted relationship that goes on between the three of you, because the two boys were drawn to you because of the simple fact that they found you bafflingly alluring and pretty by your own ways and looks, and that you seem to be the one living thing in the worlds that are grounding enough to give them some form of peace and love that's completely unattainable anywhere else.

🏜• For Feyd, most relationships are a means to an end, through using his uncle to ascend to power and watching him die like an animal shortly after, people being little curiosities in his mind before he gets bored of them and disposes of them, no hurt for him. And for Paul, whoever he's close to seems to suffer, through the loss of his mother mentally to her ancestors, fate dealing dreadful deaths to those he loves, dangers and unseen forces he can't control and can't stop.

🏜• There's a big part of Paul that would rather keep you away and at a safe distance from him and his Jihad, relocate you to another world or system where you could live peacefully until your old age, away from the curse that plagues his soul... but ultimately, that's more unbearable than facing the spiking risks of having your life changed and turned upside down by being melded into his.

🏜• Love has two very different meanings for the two boys, being one of passion, a bond unspeakable, incomprehensible, unbreakable, to Paul. And to Feyd-Rautha, it's laughable, confusing, petty, weak, for the dogs. Or so he says.

🏜• Being caught between the two of them at the same time? And both of them catching on and knowing about it?? Oh god

🏜• Just imagining you witnessing the fight between heirs, the cold-blooded young Harkonnen on one side facing off the intense, blue-eyed lost Atreides on the other. Both looking for you, at you, watching briefly for your attention and to pinpoint you in the room... before both noticing they're looking at the same person, and suddenly their grips on the blade have become bruisingly tight.

🏜• It kind of depends on what you're in the mood for: an unpredictable yandere madman who randomly stabs people who look at you too long for the excitement, a possessive wild Harkonnen who adorns you in diamond collars and beautiful black clothes, self-proclaiming you as Queen of the Known Universe. Or the lost blue-in-blue soul with eyes that go almost unnoticeably softer when they look at you, cryptic words spoken from the heart when there are any needed, who wakes you up during the long hot night in Arrakeen's palace to stargaze and lay together soundlessly, to stare at you for literal hours on end while he gets lost in thought.

🏜• Both? Difficult.

🏜• Paul can almost rival Feyd in terms of possessiveness, both young men being determined to keep what's theirs from harm, with that slight edge of darkness Paul developed after consuming the Water of Life being brought out any time the subject of you comes up - something he gets oddly defensive about before the conversation's even started. He'll interrupt them straight away if they refer to you by your first name to correct them to address you by your title, because even that level of intimacy and familiarity is too much for him to acknowledge.

🏜• While Paul rules over his Jihad and Fremen in Arrakis, you're quite literally his only source of stability left in the world, no true family left to ground him and remind him of what he lost and left behind. Any possessive and protective nature of his will always be deep-rooted in love, even if he doesn't admit it straight up. It's obvious through everything he says and does for you, to Gurney and Jessica and the whole of his court, as well as you. Even the Fremen nomads and Arrakeen dwellers would observe it any time Paul came stalking through the sandy streets to watch over his land, and you'd hear murmurs from the workers with looks of revered curiosity and wonder as they gossiped discreetly.

🏜• "My cousin went to present himself to the great court of Arrakeen Palace only a fortnight ago, and do you know, the whole meeting was closed and postponed only seven minutes in discussion! Well, his sihaya had been out of spirits, that's what they heard the maids say, and the God Emperor took off just like that, without a word. I'd almost think it rude. But Muad'Dib leads the way."

🏜• As for Feyd, everyone knows not to even look your way without accepting the high risk of a humiliating death or trial under his command and blade, something he'd want to do personally, as if it was a threat to his pride and manhood, staring him in the eyes through you. With Paul, he can practically read minds, so if men or women of the Sietches had any threatening or lingering thoughts revolving around you, they'd be in for the most uncomfortable, intimidating short lecture with a private audience to the Emperor himself.

🏜• It's hard to think that these two could form a sort of alliance together for your sake, because realistically to their characters, they very probably wouldn't. Each would fight to the death for you, and the last standing would be the one worthy of defending your honour and life with their own, proving themself the strongest and most capable of doing just that. Other than that, it's a hard time believing that they could just stifle their differences in rulership and rights to be with you in harmony, so being together as a three would take a lot of hard work and manipulation, and even then... No, it's too unbelievable. That's just realism. Sorry .-.

🏜• None of them want to feel betrayed by you, so whoever you pick above the other, choose through following your heart and your mind. If it is Paul, he'll easily fend off Feyd to his demise like he was prophesied to do when he rages in a mad fit over your shift in passion, but if it is Feyd, Paul would simply ask you both leave Arrakis and never return. It would make it a little less painful if he didn't have to see you again, and he'd wait out his mind until it stopped conjuring you in his dreams.

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Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @milaeth @ennycutie @nckcn @void21 @leighta @williamtt33 @deathsimp @tatumrileyslover @beebumbo @the-dark-dreamer25 @lilepad @skboo @keicdcat @1950schick @reggiesmoon @velosrantipole @yoonessa @anonymjuni @saturnhas82moons @xlxnq @frickyea-guacamole19 @meowmeeps @chalklate @aoi-targaryen

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DUNE MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ MAIN MASTERLIST

[spicy30]

Echoes of a Stolen Fate 2/2

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targ!Reader

cw: Blood, Bastardry stigma, infidelity, classism, regionalism (regional bias), childbirth

Rating: 16+

tags: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, the reader has anger issues, reader is depressed reader takes issues against bastards, reader does not like the north, reader acts like a princess (discriminates against those who are not like her (gets it from her mom tbh, have you read about Rhaenyra?)), Reader has traditional Targaryen features (Hair and eyes, skin color nor body specified), Dino Dragon is named Acrocanthosaurus because I'm not original, Reader is assumed to be true-born due to traditional Targ features

(Not Proofread)

Bold text noted to be High Valyrian

First part: 1/2

Indulgence is based on this post. Inspo Dino Dragon is Acrocanthosaurus.

WC: 13.2K

You felt like you were withering as the weeks passed by here in the North, the same thing every day. You’d wake before your husband in the cold room, groom yourself until you were presentable, and then you would dress in simple clothes such is the Northern fashion, skip breakfast, and go to the cold Gods Wood to ‘pray’. Then you would begin your duties as Lady of Winterfell; planning meals, overseeing finance, delegating resources, planning events, preparing for the long winter cold that the Starks never seem to shut up about, planning the staff's daily doings, going to the Maester for your daily check in. They seemed eager for an heir for Cregan. Then and only then would you eat your one meal of the day, then get up once again.

You wrote daily to your brother and uncle for updates, and then you wrote letters to the alliances you secured through the possibility of marriage to you but as you are married now, they seemed to pull away. Those letters only served to infuriate you, so after a healthy dose of daily hitting the cold stone wall so no one would hear and toss their letters into the fire watching them burn, you would get ready to meet with whatever ladies you were set to entertain today.  

Then afterward, you made it a priority to go greet the commons of Winterfell, though you had to fight the urge to scowl when they smiled at you. Their ugly teeth greeting you, and commons touching you with their dirty hands. The only good thing about the North is the cold stifled the disgusting smell this place would surely have, but when commons got too close or spoke to you, you’d smell their rotten breath and their putrid scent. It was disgusting and every time you went out, you felt like running away, far away from here forever because Winterfell was oh so dull, gray, and cold.

Then after your daily nightmare of interacting with the commons of Winterfell, you’d go back home only to be badgered by the servants of Winterfell seeking guidance. Every day, every single damned day of your existence here in this cold desolate place called Winterfell felt like monotonous hell.

Then finally as the day comes to a close, you’d go to the dinning room only for your husband to bore you with his attempts at conversation. After your husband finishes eating, you’d both go to your shared chambers where you’d do your duty always having him finish fast never bothering to catch your own high then sitting still as you felt his seed sit inside you. 

You’d pretend to sleep until he slept, and then you would wake and sit on a nearby chair that was always cold, and stare at the map of Westeros. It was horribly dreadful as you wallowed in your own self-pity watching your allies dwindle.  

Truly a sad sight of you sitting there in a chair, bare as the day you were born with a sticky feeling between your legs looking at a map for hours never moving in this cold room. Then you’d stand up sometimes and just look at yourself in the mirror and at the nasty scar that was forming on your calf. Sometimes you’d stare so long that you’d hallucinate your face and body beginning to morph ever so slightly into the woman you wished you were. A woman with a crown on her head in the warmth of King’s Landing, a woman who was not wasted on simply being a lady of a cold household. 

Then you’d go to sleep for a couple of hours only to restart your pitiful day all over again. 

It was unbearable some days. On those days you considered simply flying off to the warmth of Essos and never turning back or just flying to King’s Landing and burning everyone in the Red Keep. Though sometimes you’d think you would just be content with burning anything or anyone, the heat would feel nice. 

So on those days, you’d take Acrocanthosaurus and fly him high, high above the clouds, and have him breathe fire and destroy the clouds around you as you relished the feeling of fire around you. You’d pretend he was burning the grimy eyes on you, the Northern accents that grated your ears, Aegon, Aemond, Alicent, Otto, and sometimes you even thought about burning your Grandsire. 

However, as the weeks went by, those days that used to be rare were now becoming all too common. Days where you felt your blood boiling at the desperation of your situation were becoming too frequent for your own good. 

So today as you made your way out to God’s Wood for your daily ‘prayers’ for the first time since you got here, you knelt. You knelt in the God’s Wood but in front of the tree, but in front of Acrocanthosaurus, and simply held him. You felt the warmness contrast the cold of your damp clothes and slowly you began to cry, anger that made you cry, uselessness that made you cry, an emptiness that made you cry.

“There is something wrong with me.” You whispered in a broken voice as tears fell from your eyes onto his snout. “I hate feeling like this, so pathetic. I wonder if anyone else can see me for how I truly am. I had everything, the gods were generous with me but now they don’t even answer my prayers, no matter how high I fly to see them.” Your body shivered from the cold that seeped into your bones. “I don't know why. What did I do? What is wrong with me?” You looked into the eyes of Acrocanthosaurus. “Please just tell me so maybe I can be better. I don't want to end up like my mother, fighting for people to simply accept me. I wanna be loved, I want to be supported like Aegon is, just for simply being born. I simply want to be.” 

…

It had been weeks into your marriage, Cregan had taken you several times, left his seed in you several times, left marks on your body several times, had touched you where no one else ever would, in all except one place, a place that he yearned for more than anything. 

Your lips.

Every time you’d avoid him, you’d never deny him any other part of your body, just your lips and it left him frustrated. What kind of wife does not kiss her own husband? It was all he needed from you. The very thing you denied him. Perhaps you did not feel comfortable with him? So he tried to give you gifts, they were always received and worn, but never once did you kiss him in thanks, he praised you for your work in Winterfell but never once did that ever result in a kiss, he talked to you during your shared dinner or more so his dinner as you never ate, and even then it did not make you any warmer when he took you once more. 

You were simply impossible. Never did you go out of your way to talk to him, touch him, hug him, kiss him. You were hard to talk to, only simply giving him those dismissive hums he was growing to hate. Despite the bed you both shared meant for sleep, he never really did sleep next to you. You gave him nothing on your shared nights or at any time, the only thing he could feel from you was a heartbeat.

Yet despite you only ever completing your obligation to him he never did find himself ever wanting to stop, because the only time he ever really got you to open up was when he got you undressed, and even if it wasn’t the way he wanted you to open up for him, this was still good enough, for now. 

Weeks passed and Cregan watched you, he watched you when he felt the bed shift from when you got up like you did every night after he’s marked you. He watched you sit in the same chair every night and simply stare at a map. He watched you become so lost that you never noticed that he watched you, every breath you took, every time you blinked, every time you shivered from the cold, he’d watch the tips of your breast harden then after a while soften only to harden again when you shivered as if suddenly noticing the cold again. He’d watch from the bed as you sometimes stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror, never noticing him in the same reflection as your mind drifted elsewhere. He watched you as you crawled into bed and slept beside him though the sleep never rejuvenated you. 

Cregan would always wake up as you left your shared bedroom. Cregan would always watch you, your practiced smiles to everyone, or the way you rode your dragon away from here. He always watched you, never understanding why you would not let him in. That night, that first night you told him: 

“I’d rather not share something so intimate.”

Those words haunted him, day and night. Never once did you let yourself be intimate with your husband and Cregan was starting to break. 

He didn’t know what they meant, there was no way you would have known about the kiss. There were only three witnesses and two of those witnesses had good reason to not tell and the third was a dragon who could not speak. You vexed him, vexed him, and frustrated him. You elicited reactions from him no one else has. Soon you were the only thing on his mind and it began to drive him insane. 

So he watched you and watched because it felt like that was the only way he could ever be intimate with you. Not when you were bare and your bodies connected but when he watched you.

He knows you don’t love him, not yet at least. He hopes you will, because it feels like he already loves you. You’re all he thinks about, but he can never tell you, not as you are now. It almost feels like a joke to him. One big joke, a joke he tries to gain insight into by watching you. 

Today when Cregan wakes and he looks over, he sees you, still in the bed beside him. You hadn’t woken up yet. Today he’d watch some more trying to understand. He watched your eyelashes flutter sometimes, he watched your hair become disheveled from moving, he watched your chest rise, and he watched every time you moved.

He reached over and brushed your hair back. It is shined with the light of the fire and your skin reflects the light. He was entranced watching you sleep. His hands traveled along the side of your face stopping on your lips. He touched them, and they were so soft and smooth. He pinched them softly and watched them turn a slight red and only then could he imagine how red your lips would be if you allowed him to kiss you. 

He moved closer to you, to observe every part of your face. He simply lay beside you, his hands never moving from your lips. 

Then you moved and he shut his eyes like a boy who was caught staying up late. He kept them shut pretending he was sleeping. He felt you stir more and finally he felt you take his hand in yours. He relished the feeling of your warm hands against his, though it was only to move his hand away from your lips. The he felt you stand and leave the bed. 

He opened his eyes slightly watching you get ready for the day before you walked out. Cregan quickly got up and put on simple clothes before following after you as quietly and quickly as he could. He watched you walk slowly through the walls of Winterfell as your calf held you back. He watched and followed you to God's Wood. He watched from behind a tree as you knelt, but not in front of the Weir Wood tree, but in front of your dragon, which he has told you to keep out of these woods. 

He watched you as you seemed to pray to your dragon, as you hugged him. He watched you shiver from the cold but felt the warmth your dragon exhaled. It seemed like you were saying something, but he couldn’t hear.  

He watched as your dragon then narrowed its eyes on him and for a second time stopped. He watched you turn your head slightly in his direction. He watched as you ignored him and instead grabbed onto your Dragon. 

He didn’t know why that rubbed him the wrong way.

You ignored him like you didn’t care that he was there. 

You didn’t care.

Cregan watched you fly away and you didn’t care that he was there. 

When you came back from wherever it is you went today, he didn’t greet you like he usually did. 

You didn’t care.

He didn’t talk to you during dinner.

You didn’t care.

He didn’t take you that night.

You didn’t care

For days he did this hoping you would do something, pleading that you would show him something, anything!

You didn’t care for it or his act. 

He did his best to ignore you, though he didn’t last long. How could he? When the Maester had just given him such great news. You were with a child, his first child with you. Something only you could give him, so how could he ignore his wife?  Damn the Wall and damn the South, all he could think of was his wife. 

However, the way things are would not do for him and the future child born between the both of you. There had to be something he could do to remedy this. He will be the first to admit that the game he is playing with you is childish. But he can’t help himself. He feels like a spoiled child crying and whining to get what he wants. He hasn’t acted like this since he was a child, yet this is what you have reduced him to, a little boy playing silly games vying for your attention hoping you’ll notice him and notice how desperate he is for you. 

Another gift perhaps? Surely it would be better than starving himself of you. 

You seemed to express a want for Arra Norrey to raise your children. He’d rather her far away from you, but if it is what you wanted, who was he to deny you that? 

Pulling out fresh ink and the seal of the Starks, he wrote to House Norrey. 

…

As you cried on Acrocanthosaurus, he breathed out steam that warmed your body. You looked into his eyes and saw them looking behind you. You looked over your shoulder and saw no one, however, it was clear someone was there watching you. Acrocanthosaurus reached his claw to you and you climbed onto it as he lifted you to your saddle. Not bothering to look deeper into who was hiding, you set off into the skies, hoping that maybe if you pray up there, the gods will hear you this time. Perhaps you’ll even fly to Old Valyria if you become desperate enough. 

Acrocanthosaurus flew and flew higher and you laid back on him. 

You sighed looking up. “It doesn't change anything. Nothing changes no matter how high I fly.  The Gods will never hear my prayers. I've lost everything. No matter how many times I pray, no matter how many times I plead, it's never coming back, Acrocanthosaurus.” 

You lift your hands to look at the simple clothes you have on. “And I’ve done this for what? For a man whose alliance was already secured? For a man who so clearly does not want me!? For a man who only seems to see me as what the world does already, a womb and nothing more?”

You crawled forward onto Acrocanthosaurus's neck as you held on tight. “Can't I just be loved? Be loved by the realm as they seem to love Aegon? Be loved…” Your voice lowered as you held onto Acrocanthosaurus trying to crawl forward as he made noises.

 “By my husband? Maybe if I had been born of love…” You trail as you finally reach the head of Acrocanthosaurus looking into his green eyes watching you as he flies. 

“You love me, don’t you Acrocanthosaurus?” You heard him make a deep rumble that you felt vibrate your body before he swung you high in the air. You screamed as he caught you with his snout. You sat as he continued flying and you hugged his face, holding on breathing fast.

“I hope that was a yes.” You breathed out as you held onto him. “Yeah, just you and me…forever. Maybe we could stay alone, just me and you, together.” You rested your head against his. 

You felt the rumble of his roar in the depths of your bones. “Yes, and while we're at it, burn the whore’s house down.”

…

After hours of riding and deciding against the idea of burning down the Norrey House, you flew back to Winterfell to a strangely quiet husband. He did not greet you, nor did he talk to you during his dinner, or even take you that night. Though it was all the same to you, one less person to talk to. 

It was all the same to you until it wasn’t. When you saw the coat of arms that held six green thistles crossing through the gates of Winterfell. For days Cregan hadn’t spoken to you, nor marked you. It wasn’t you missed it but he was still your husband, and the nerve of him to invite her to Winterfell. For what!?

Walking as fast as you could with an occasional limp and burst through his door interrupting his study. You saw him lift a brow and you swore you could see the smallest smile. 

“My lord.” You gritted out. “Why was I not told of the Norreys visit?”  He sat in all his glory, the gray stone walls surrounding him, his fur pelt, and the chair of Winterfell. He sat there with what you swore was a smirk and it aggravated you. 

“It’s not a visit.” He spoke as if it was the most normal thing. There were very few things that got under your skin and even fewer people who managed to bring out a resentful side of you. Yet this man here did it all without even trying!? 

Cregan Stark; the bane of your existence.

You spoke trying your best to hide your annoyance. “No? Then why are they here?”

“It is only one person. Arra Norrey.” He responded cooly watching you with eyes that seemed to drink up every expression you gave. 

“Why?” You walked forward looking at him leaning forward with your hands on the desk. 

“On the day of our wedding, you had told Arra Norrey you wished for her help to raise our children.” As Cregan spoke you felt your patience thinning.

“And?” Of course, the Northern brute did not register sarcasm, damn all these Northers who you swear will turn your white hair gray. 

You watched as Creagn stood and walked behind you taking you in his arms as you felt him inhale your scent. You watched as his hands intertwined with yours and finally had them settled on your belly. 

“Now that you are carrying our first child, heir to Winterfell, I figured you’d want her here.” As you listened to Cregan speak you felt your heart drop. Suddenly the feeling of his hands rubbing your stomach felt confining. The heir of Winterfell he called it. You felt as if he had just stabbed you through the heart. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It hurt to know that you were his excuse for bringing back his whore to Winterfell, and while you labored to grow this child, his heir as he called it. Cregan would be off fathering bastards, like his father did.

You knew the men of the realm did not see value in women, but it hurt a little more to know you had married one of them. A tie to your name and to your blood. 

“The Maester told me the news a couple of days ago-” You stepped out of his grasp, cutting him off. You took a second to recompose yourself. You turned and faced Cregan and smiled. 

“I was not aware of the news. Such grand news. However, I must make haste to prepare for Lady Norrey’s arrival.” You spoke in the calmest tone you could muster before dismissing yourself leaving Cregan in the dull, gray, cold room. 

…

The last thing Cregan wanted to do was to greet Arra. After what had happened between them, he never wanted to see her again. Guilt always pooled in him when he saw her. The day you became his wife, the day he was unable to take his eyes from you was the day he decided that what happened under the Weirwood tree was the biggest mistake of his life. 

Arra did not make him yearn. Not even after he kissed her, he did not yearn for more. He did not spend that night thinking of her. The night and days after his wedding only consisted of thoughts of you. In fact, in these past few weeks, the only time she has ever crossed her mind was when he thought that perhaps he should confess his mistake to you. Arra Norrey was only ever was brought up in his mind as a negative thought and in correlation to you. 

Arra Norrey in Cregan’s mind, never stood alone. 

Despite this, he put on his best face and gave a greeting that reflected his position, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. 

He watched as the Norrey guards held out their hands for Lady Arra. She walked with a big smile on her face as she greeted him first then you. As they welcomed her inside, she would not stop singing praises for Winterfell and how wonderful it felt to be invited back, this time as a lady-in-waiting for the Lady of Winterfell. Cregan watched for a reaction, a sign to assure him that he had done well. 

You gave him none. In fact, you seemed the opposite of pleased, you had recently gone on dragon back and had only come back an hour ago. Perhaps….the feast thrown in your honor would please you. 

Cregan felt nervous at your lack of enthusiasm. You were the one who wanted Lady Arra, were you not?

He would try once more to please the soon-to-be mother of his child in the coming days, try and have you lighten up as he prepared to share the news of your pregnancy.  

However, over those days, every time he stepped into your presence for something even as minuscule as holding his hand to your stomach, Arra would be there to ruin the moment. Never could he get you alone, and even then when he seemed to enter the same room as you, he felt Arra’s eyes on him. He had been the one to send the letter requesting her presence, but he did not invite the looks she would give him. Longing looks. Looks he did his best to ignore. Worst yet, you seemed to broil in anger every day since Arra’s arrival. 

Every day you would disappear for hours at a time leaving Arra with his half-sister Sara and consequently in his presence for all those hours you were gone for. Cregan found himself frustrated with your behavior and frustrated because he did not want to face Arra and what he had done on the day of your marriage. 

You were the one who held his hand so eagerly when speaking to Lady Arra about your shared children. How excited you had seemed, but now you detest being around him. Before, at the very least, you would give him dismissive hums, but now all you responded with was your eyes and the movement of your eyebrows, the rest of your face always set in a permanent scowl. 

He didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. He is trying, he really is. Trying to meet your every need and every want any lady could ever want. 

Sighing he pushed back his hair from his face as the background noise finally set. You had left once more early in the morning despite the Maesters advising you not to, leaving him alone with Sara and Lady Arra as they spoke of the upcoming banquet today in your honor.

Cregan figured that if he could not please you or Lady Arra, then perhaps Sara could, her talkative nature made it easy to become friends with. 

“Lady Arra, could you give my sister and I a moment alone?” Cregan spoke without looking up. He often tried to not look towards Lady Arra. 

He heard her obliged and stepped out. 

“Brother?” Sara spoke as she sat in front of him. He lifted his head showing his defeated expression.

“What do you know of my lady wife Sara?” He asked her with a sigh.

“Not much brother, on the day before your wedding I attempted to talk to her, though she seemed in a sour mood only giving me a smile before she left,” Sara spoke as she observed her brother. You had given him such a hard time, though Sara had seen your duties, you had even gone so far as to take what she usually did, giving her the excuse that you did more as Crown Princess and the work in Winterfell paled in comparison.

“Yes, she and her brother, Prince Jacaerys, were at odds that night.” Cregan rationalized.  

“In her days in Winterfell, I have not gotten the chance to speak to her much other than the greeting which she returned. The lady has such structured days that it is hard to find a time when she is not working on something. I believe the only time she spares is for you, Cregan.” Sara offered with a smile. 

Cregan nodded. “She does not seem fond of Lady Arra, though she had-” 

“I would not be fond of the company of Lady Arra if I was your lady wife either,” Sara said, cutting Cregan off. 

Cregan looked at her eyes slightly wide as his palms felt clammy. “Why?”

“Well if my lord husband invited the woman who he was supposed to marry and his childhood friend to be my lady-in-waiting, I would not be pleased either. Why would you even want to invite Lady Arra back to court?” Sara looked at her brother incredulously. 

Cregan felt a little sigh of relief, glad his sister did not know of what happened between Lady Arra and him under the Weirwood tree. However, this information should be unknown to you, how could you have come to find out? “Lady Arra and I were not promised to each other, my wife should not know of that.”

“Well, brother I may have…told her?” Sara mumbled as she watched her brother give her a bewildered look. 

“I did not expect you to invite her back to Winterfell!” Sara defended herself against the incredulous looks her brother threw at her. 

Sighing, Cregan rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Today, during the banquet, you will keep my wife company and try to remedy this…misunderstanding. She needs a friend here that is not someone who was supposed to marry me.”

“Are you asking me to put in a good word you brother?” Sara gave a small teasing smile at her brooding brother. 

“No. I am asking you to fix this. My lady wife seems to always be upset these days.” Cregan spoke as he looked towards the window. Your dragon seemed to return, going back to land in God's wood. 

“How do you know? She seems as she always is. She is silent and does her duties. She still goes to greet the commons of Winterfell. She is doing well brother.” Sara reaches over for her brother’s hand as she looks outside to see your dragon give a loud roar before disappearing out of sight as it lands. 

“She only ever goes riding when she is particularly upset or displeased with something,” Cregan says, giving his sister’s hand a final squeeze before retracting her own hand. “She is pregnant now, Sara. The Maester says such harsh movement such as dragon riding is not good. Sara, she is angry all the time, I can see it every day on her face.”

“She is the blood of the dragon Cregan, of course, her blood runs hot and consequently; her temper. However, she is not in her home, her home is in the South, you know as well as I do, that the North is not welcoming to outsiders, especially Southerners from King’s Landing. It is only natural that she should find comfort in her beast. ” Sara reasons Cregan. 

She watched Cregan give an exasperated sigh. “Fret not brother, tonight, I will be her friend and give a good word.” Sara smiled before excusing herself. 

Cregan watched his sister leave before standing up himself to go to the God’s Wood. Ever since the wedding Cregan has avoided going due to the dragon that now resided there, and the guilt that would build up in him as he looked at the Weir Wood tree. However, if he decided that if he truly wanted this to work, he would not be bullied out of the place his ancestors had been going to for solace by a dragon or guilt. 

Getting closer to God's wood, it felt warmer than the rest of Winterfell. He felt nervous, yes he is Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, but that does change that a dragon is a dragon. Dragons do not care for names or titles, only for blood, Valyrian blood, blood he does not possess. Despite this, he pushed forward into the new warmth of the woods. As he walked deeper he saw the growth of flowers he had never seen before. The more small life grew, the closer he went to the Weir Wood tree. Eventually, it was so warm he took off his coat and sat down on the bench near the Weir Wood.

This had been the place where he kissed a woman who was not his wife, in front of the ever-gazing eyes of the Weir Wood tree. Looking into the black water, which was so black it could work as a mirror. While looking into the black mirror he saw a figure moving across the pond. 

A large head reflected and Cregan simply looked at the creature through the water. The head was long, low, and narrow. Its eyes are big and green with black slits for pupils. The outside of its upper jaw up to its nasal bone looked rough and textured. Long, low ridges arose from the nasal bones, running along each side of the snout from the nostril back to the eye, where they continued onto the tear duct bone. As Cregan kept looking at the large dragon through the reflection, the dragon looked towards him. It did not bear its teeth but yet Cregan counted nineteen curved serrated teeth protruding from its mouth.  

From the pond Cregan watched it stand taller showing off its stocky body covered in scaly skin. It stretched itself seemingly intent on going towards Cregan now baring its teeth. Cregan looked up from the pond standing from the bench ready to back away if need be. Though despite the fact he had just spent the last couple of minutes looking at the dragon he never noticed you standing next to your dragon. 

It wasn’t until you stood in front of it stopping it from crossing the pond. He watched as your dragon nuzzled against you, more specifically towards your belly, blowing smoke, and even from the distance Cregan could feel the heat. It was hot, scalding hot, and he began to sweat. 

He began to worry that perhaps it may be too much heat for the child you carried, however, before he could say anything he was blinded by the large puff of smoke your dragon exhaled. His eyes burned from the heat and it wasn’t long before his skin felt like it was boiling. 

It hurt and he could hardly breathe, he panicked, but not for himself, but for you. What about you? What about the child in your womb? He found himself trying to yell your name, coughing with each breath he took. He yelled, coughed, and tried to find his way to you through the smoke. As he coughed he nearly fell tripping over a protruding root from the ground. Though suddenly with a large gust of wind, the smoke fell away leaving Cregan alone. You were nowhere in sight and your dragon was lying down ignoring his existence. 

Cregan stood up straight and wiped the tears away that had gathered from the smoke. 

“Cregan!” He heard a voice shout. Turning he saw Arra walking towards him. She was the last person he wanted to be seen with. Not with your dragon now opening an eye and looking at them both, where weeks ago he had committed an act that should never be repeated. He doubted whatever you had told your dragon would keep him at bay should Arra attempt to bring up what happened that day, or if she did anything he reckoned. 

“Lady Arra.” He spoke in a monotone voice. 

“Are you alright? I saw all the smoke and your shouts for the Lady, I rushed over as fast as I could.” Arra spoke as she came closer to him, seemingly trying to wipe soot away from his face. 

Cregan backed away, keeping a distance from her. He watched her face become confused before quickly giving a respectful smile. 

“I am alright, I was simply looking for my lady wife, have you seen her?” 

Arra nodded and stated that she had only recently entered your chambers to prepare for a bath. Content with the answer he left, hoping Arra wouldn’t be foolish enough to remain in the God’s Wood alone with your dragon. 

…

“The dragon’s blood runs hot maester. I assure you I will not burn if you increase the temperature.” You spoke feeling the water which was lukewarm. 

The Maester spoke to you trying to reason.“You may not burn my lady, but the child you bear has Northern blood-” 

That title, ‘my lady,’ it irked you. Something that came along with this cold place, something you were not used to when all your life you had been called ‘your grace,’ it was your proper title and to have someone speak to you in such a manner, it irritated you. You were still a Targaryen, you did not take the Stark name, a noble woman never take her husband’s name. Especially not a royal one who was set to inherit the Iron Throne. You were born a Targaryen and would remain one for the rest of your life. Your mother was born a Targaryen and even when she married your father, Laenor Velaryon, she remained a Targaryen, when she bore you, you took your mother’s name, Targaryen. The child you had growing inside you would also bear the name Targaryen, by right, your child was a Targaryen.

“The dragon’s blood runs strong within me, and it will run strong in my child. I am a cold maester, I have been cold for weeks. Can I not have one hot bath?” You countered cutting him off. Winterfell rarely saw the sun and you could not enjoy the warm rays of sunlight you had in King’s Landing or on Dragon Stone. The only warmth you ever found was near Acrocanthosaurus or hot baths.

“When you are not with child my lady, you may have the water as scalding as you’d like, however, until then, this is the warmest I will allow.” You felt the slightest twitch at the title as the Maester finished. He seemed determined to not let you have your bath. So finally, desperate for some alone time, you agreed and dismissed everyone.

As you disrobed and slipped into the bath, you relished in the slight warmth it provided. It felt good to rid yourself of the scent of dragon. You loved Acrocanthosaurus, you really did, but it didn’t change the fact that dragons didn’t exactly smell the best. 

You cannot say how long you remained in the bath as every part of your being soaked in the scented oils of the bath, your ears plugged from having half of your head submerged, your hair stuck to your forehead and your hand subconsciously resting atop your stomach which now protrude outward ever so slightly. While you were born and given the name Targaryen, as was agreed upon when your mother married your father, it seemed that your father still resonated with you heavily. You always love baths and the weight the water takes from you. Weightless, a feeling that only the seas and skies can give you.

However, the peace broke when you heard someone enter. Giving out a deep sigh of annoyance you rose from the water and you felt warm water fall out from your ears as you watched Lady Arra lay out the dress on the bed. It was the dull colors of the North. You had just about enough of all these dull colors. You wanted vibrant colors for your house, bright crimson colors or deep azures from House Velaryon. 

“Take it away.” You spoke as you sat properly in the bath and drops of water cascaded over you. 

“My lady, this is traditional wear of the North and it is in honor of the next heir of Winterfell…” Lady Arra spoke as you pulled up the dress trying to show off the minimalistic design. As you listened to her, you lifted a brow at the title. The assumption of your child being heir of Winterfell and not heir of the Iron Throne grated you. 

“I don’t care. Take it away and bring me….” You told her to roll your eyes again. “One of my Southern dresses, a red one, with dragons embroidered.” Your child may be fathered by a Northern brute, but you were Southern through and through, and so would your child. 

“Such tight corsets would not be good for the babe you carry, my lady. Southern dresses are also not good for the North, you will run cold.” Arra told you as she walked closer with a robe to help you get out of the bath.

There was that title again, ‘My Lady.’ A title that insulted you. You felt your annoyance grow every time Arra spoke to you.

“I am the dragon’s daughter, my blood runs hot. Now fetch me the dress.” You spoke with an absolute tone. They would not claim your child as a Stark, you will show your alliance with your name. Your child would be Targaryen, as were you. The throne will always belong to a Targaryen.

“My lady I don’t think that would-” 

“Nobody cares…what you think.” You cut Arra off as you stood in all your glory, steam radiating off of your body as you stepped out of the tub and standing in front of her, your eyes met her plain ones You took the robe from her and put it on before looking her up and down unamused. “So bring me my red dress with dragons embroidered.” You spoke in a slow tone as if trying to dumb it down for her. 

You watched her look down before nodding and excusing herself.

…

As you walked into the great hall of Winterfell, you felt all their eyes on you. Your deep crimson dress contrasted the dull grays and blacks of everyone else and your elaborate Southern hair-do stood out from the boring plain ones that Northern ladies wore. 

You were made for the limelight, born for others to look to, born to rule. That was your purpose, a heavy one to carry. 

As you sat next to Cregan, you nodded allowing the feast to begin. From the table you watched everyone scarf down the food and you felt your eyebrows crease in disgust. You felt sick when your own food was placed in front of you. The white meat was glistening under the candlelight and the smell wafting in your nose nearly made you lose your lunch. As you pushed the plate away you drank water, content with only that. You rested back drinking while looking upon the people of the North. The Northerners who thought you were bearing their heir. This was your child, your heir, not theirs, not anyone but yours. 

Just like that, you found yourself standing with your chalice lifted in the air giving a forced smile. You waited until it was silent and everyone watched you, the candlelight casting a dark shadow over you. 

“I’d like to make a toast, as the newest Lady of Winterfell and the alliance this marriage between my lord husband, Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, and I, your Crown Princess.” You smiled as you reminded them of your position. “We hold this banquet in honor of the babe Cregan has gifted me.” You looked down at Cregan with the softest smile you could conjure, though it was an empty one. He looked up to you and as he nodded towards you then faced his men, and you swore he sat up a little straighter. 

“Who will be born Targaryen, as I was, and will be my heir to the Iron Throne as I am to my Mother, your Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen.” You felt your smile widen into a grin as you saw the people in the hall make the realization that you had every intention of taking the Throne, making you first and foremost, their Crown Princess and then Lady of Winterfell.

“So I toast to the future heir of the Iron Throne.” The cheer they gave was loud as they drank. You gave a small sip. “And should the Gods be generous, Cregan will give me more children who will then bear the name Stark.” With a promise that the Stark name would live, the cheers increased in volume, though the only person you looked at was Arra Norrey who had a neutral face on, which amongst happy flushed places, looked misplaced. She met your eyes and you greeted her with a smug smile. 

Cregan was your husband, for better or worse.

Finally sitting down keeping your eyes on her, to drive your point further, once more, as you did on your wedding day, you took Cregan’s hand and held it near your belly, which now carried your heir.  

As you sat happy, you felt the hand that held Cregan’s being lifted. You looked and watched as Cregan brought your hand to his lips and gave a long soft kiss. You looked deep into his eyes and for the first time, you realized just how gray they were. Never had you really looked towards Cregan as you did now. The forming creases on his face from stress, his long brown hair, but he was handsome, more so now as he looked up at you mumbling a “your grace” acknowledging you as his Crown Princess. 

For the first time since you had met Cregan, since you had married him, since you had been with him, a genuine smile crept on your face unwillingly, forgetting the sin he committed against you. He looked like perfection at that moment. Such gray eyes you had never seen, a sharp nose, a nicely sculpted face. If you had a son, you desperately hoped he inherited his father’s handsome and manly looks rather than the beauty Targeryens were known for. 

“More children, may the gods bless us.” He murmured against your hand which was still resting on his lips. You felt a pulse of desire hearing his Northern accent. Never had you wanted to hear the damned Northern accent more than right now. You could imagine it, hearing his rough voice and pronunciation whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he gives you another babe. The mere thought made you take a deep breath to calm yourself. You felt the warmth of his soft lips leave your hand and you felt almost deprived of his touch. His lips which you had forbidden yourself from touching. 

Why? 

At this very moment while looking at your husband who had done so much for you, giving you expensive gifts, accommodating your every want, giving you the warmest room in Winterfell, excused your leaves with Acrocanthosaurus, putting up with your attitude all without complaining, and giving you an heir for yourself. You honestly couldn’t remember why you would deny yourself such a man. 

You looked into his pretty gray eyes and then down at his perfect lips. You felt yourself lean closer into him seeking him out. For the first time in weeks, you sought him out. As you came closer and felt his breath, which smelt of sweet wine, you grew eager to taste him. Taste the flavor of the wine which was surely left on his tongue. 

Cregan reached his hand to cradle your face and you leaned into the rough calloused hand. Despite the fact that he is a Northerner who came from the cold North, you swore his hand was the warmest one you’ve ever felt. A warm hand to comfort you in the never-ending cold Winterfell seemed to produce. 

Just as your lips touched his own you turned away as someone called for your attention. As you looked up, you saw none other than your lady-in-waiting. 

Lady Arra Norrey. 

Suddenly the cold reality came crashing down on you. Your refusal to share something that should only be yours reminded you of why you treated Cregan Stark, the way you treated him. What he represented to you. The loss of your home, your throne, your place next to your mother as you both fought for your birthright. As you drew your face away from him and his warm hand you looked up towards the woman who stole what was yours. 

Your eyebrow quipped up in annoyance as you looked at her. To your side, you heard Cregan give a sigh, it appeared you weren’t the only one who didn’t want her presence anymore. You didn’t want to see her ever. She too was a constant reminder, a reminder that she ruined something for you. 

As you tuned out her little ramblings you simply looked at her to see what she had that you did not. She wasn’t prettier than you, you spoke better than her, were probably better educated than her, you had a dragon and she didn’t. Why would Cregan want her? Suddenly you felt very annoyed by her. Annoyed by her presence as you had been these last couple of days. Annoyed that she caused you to doubt yourself. Annoyed that she would forever remain a stain on your marriage. 

“My Lady, I am grateful for you and I am also thankful to Lord Stark for extending the invitation.” Arra finished as she bowed and excused herself.

My Lady. She had called you my lady again. Insult after insult she gave you. You wanted her gone. 

Permanently. 

You kept your eyes as she went to converse with other Northern ladies. Ladies you never bothered to entertain. You watched her for as long as you sat, it wasn’t until the bastard of Winterfell tore your eyes away by tapping you. You looked at her with a perplexed look. The nerve of her to touch you. You watched as she smiled at you and as she was to open her mouth to speak, you stood up and excused yourself with a flat smile before she could get a word out. You could care less about what a bastard had to say.

As you made your way through the crowd to the corner where Lady Arra and her friends talked and laughed. You approached behind Lady Arra and the other ladies around her quickly fell silent. 

“Lady Arra.” You spoke and you watched her give a small yelp. 

“Oh, my lady, I was simply speaking to them about how wonderful it is to be your lady-in-waiting.” She gave a smile. 

Once again she insulted you and you felt your eye give a small twitch. You watched her take a breath and open her mouth again to speak. Before she could you raised your hand telling her to stop. She stayed silent. Then you looked behind her at the ladies whose names you didn’t bother with giving them a lifted brow. No doubt you’d have to spell it out to them to leave you. Luckily at least one of them had common sense and left. The rest followed like sheep. 

You looked Arra up and down with disgust and annoyance present on your face.

“That day in the GodsWood. You did something you weren’t supposed to do.” You spoke with a blank smile. You watched as Arra’s face fell. “Keep your face girl.” You were reprimanded. “That day you angered the dragon, my dragon. Who nearly burned Cregan alive, because of you. What do you think will happen when I’m not there to stop him? If he was willing to burn the Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell. Do you think he would think twice about burning an insignificant girl, from a minor useless house that annoys me?” 

You watched her look away from you and towards the ground before looking back up at you with pleading eyes. “My lady, I never meant to annoy anyone!”

“But you are.” You stressed anger boiling threatening to spill over and cause a scene here in the middle of a banquet. “You’re annoying me right now. Every breath you draw in my presence annoys me, everything you do within these walls annoys me, so here is what I want you to do. I want you to leave my presence. Leave Winterfell right now and go back to whatever part of the North you belong to where they use pinecones as money.” You gave her an annoyed smile struggling to keep your face neutral. 

“My lady, Lord Stark, Warden of the North has-” You cut her off having enough of being called a lady. “Your Crown Princess is telling you to leave Winterfell. Whether in a carriage or a casket, I will be merciful enough to let you have that choice.” You watched her face drop at your implication. “So…are you going to try and wake the dragon who has already decided to burn you alive for your insolence against me, or will you appeal to me? Who’s still mulling it over?” 

You smiled as she bowed, mumbling a small ‘your grace’ before leaving the banquet. A smirk grew on your face as you watched her leave. 

Content with your work and a small smile on your face you went to walk back to your seat next to Cregan and on your side, the bastard of Winterfell. Despite the clear insult, you were happy with your work today. 

“Your grace, you are the eye banquet!” A cheerful voice sang next to you and you felt your smile nearly falter. 

The bastard of Winterfell stood next to you with a wide smile. Sara Snow. The same Sara Snow who had thrown a small look towards your brother Jacaerys during your wedding. As if a bastard would ever be worthy of your brother. Your brother was recognized by the crown and was named heir to Driftmark. This bastard had nothing to her name and only lived at the mercy of her brother. 

“Well, I am a Targaryen.” You give a smile as you look at her from your peripheral not bothering to even face her as you speak. 

“I am happy that you have taken well to your duties here in Winterfell. Even more so now that you have taken mine.” She spoke with such enthusiasm it hurt to listen. However, when she hugged your arm you looked down in shock that she would dare touch you. However, you kept face and kept that same practiced smile on your face. 

“I know my brother can be difficult at times and he can make such rash actions, but he means well. He has gone through so much in his youth. You must understand. However, you should not fret sister-” The moment she said sister you turned her out. You were in utter disbelief that someone who was not your family would touch you so casually.

 A bastard nonetheless. 

A bastard who was making excuses for her brother. She was an annoyance to you. A shame and right after you had just rid yourself of one. 

Breathing in you smiled towards her facing your body slightly more to her. “Who are you?” You asked with an unfaltering smile. 

“I’m sorry for your grace?” Sara looked towards you with furrowed brows and a smile on her face.

“Who are you Cregan?” You resisted rolling your eyes at her. You stood in front of her to block her face from Cregan who you could feel staring towards you.

“His sister,” Sara spoke in low tones as her grip around your arm lessened.

“Half-sister no? You have a different mother, yes?” You corrected her. She needed to learn her place. A bastard had no place talking to you or even a seat at the main table.

“Yes,” Sara spoke in even lower tones as she stared down in shame, feeling your burning eyes and unforgiving smile on her.

“Did the late Lord Stark remarry after Cregan’s mother?” You feigned confusion as tilted your head to the side slightly.

“No…” This she whispered out as you felt her hands start shaking a bit. 

“So that makes you what?” You lowered your face to her level as you leaned in with a mocking smile and fraudulent innocence. 

“A…” She couldn’t even say it as you saw tears on her waterline. It pleased you to know that you were the one to properly educate her on the place of bastards in society. 

“Bastard.” You finished for her as you lifted your hand which she had cupped in both of hers. “Even a common true-born is higher than a bastard.” You kept your smile as you peeled her hands off of yours. Finally, as her arms dropped and you forced her to look you in the eye your smile dropped revealing an unamused disgusted face.  “You ever presume to touch me or call me sister again, I will have Acrocanthosaurus burn your already average-looking face off. Nobody wants to marry a bastard, much less an ugly one.” 

You watched her give you an incredulous look. “And don’t ever make excuses for your brother in my presence again, do you hear me?” A futile effort on Cregan’s part to justify what he did on your wedding day. Your face twitched slightly as you watched her nod. Deciding you’ve had enough, you gave a flat smile and turned away from her, walking towards Cregan to inform him you were retiring for the night. 

…

Cregan watched you walk away. The Southern crimson dress contrasted the dark walls of the Great Hall and the clothes of everyone else. The Southern up-do of your hair, elaborate with jewels, twists, and braids. Gold dripped from your fingers and your neck. You were regal, and it was all he could bother to pay attention to, even if his sister came back with a solemn face and Arra had left after you’d finished talking to her. 

You had made a promise to him. More heirs, made by you and him. It was all his mind focused and soon his pants felt tight on him. He watched you until the doors of the Great Hall finally closed, your figure leaving his sight. He replayed the memory over and over in his head. His lips are on the back of your hand. Your eyes looking into his and a small smile on your lips. Lips that he was so close to kissing tonight. His hands are on your face tonight, when before, he was only able to touch you when you slept. The weight you pressed on his hand when you leaned into him. Everything about it was perfect. You were perfect, and tonight he was so close to tasting it. 

However, it is ruined when Lady Arra interrupts. A shame, though he supposes he could ease you tonight, as you seemed in a rather generous mood. To carefully undo the laces that held your Southern dress together, he’d hate to ruin such a dress that looked so pretty on you. The golds around your neck and on your fingers. It all served as a stark reminder of where you were from, and where he is from. Polar opposites. However, opposites attract, don’t they? 

The feeling in between his legs was beginning to hurt. So while he would normally ask his sister what was wrong with her, his mind was only clouded with one thing. 

You. 

So ignoring his sister, he stood and left the banquet, chasing after you.

When he entered you chambers he found you bent over placing your golden jewelry in a chest. 

He loved Southern dresses.

He raked the room finding it filled with your Southern ladies-in-waiting, and luckily for him, no Arra Norrey. 

With a look, the ladies bowed and left. He watched you look at him over your shoulder and he heard a sigh. 

Seems he would have to ease you just a little back into the woman he had in his hands hours before. Walking behind you he hugged you, praising himself. Northern dresses tended to be thick, better for insolation and keeping the women warm. These Southern dresses were thinner, let him feel you. Cregan would make sure to have more Southern dresses made for you. 

Inhaling your scent he pressed soft kisses against your exposed shoulder and like always you gave him better access to your neck. His hands traveled up your front side against the hard corset you wore until one of his hands cradled your face and the other lay on your stomach. He tilted your face towards him intent on finally claiming your lips after weeks of agony. 

As he went to kiss you, he felt your head tilt down and he instead made contact with your forehead. He sighed and closed his eyes in annoyance. 

“I am already with child Cregan.” You spoke in low tones as he rubbed your belly though he could only feel the hardness of the corset.  

He let your face go and buried his face in your neck. 

“Why do you deny me my wife?” He mumbled against you. He felt you shudder under him. Then he felt your finger massaging his scalp and you rested your head on his. 

“Why don’t you understand?” Cregan heard you mumble and he lifted his head looking towards you. You looked at him with unmoving eyes, a tired look on your face. 

“What is there to understand? Every night you deny me.” Cregan walked in front of you cupping your face with both hands looking down at you. “I have played your game, wife, what more can I give you?”  

“What game Cregan?” You lifted your hands holding onto his wrist, perplexed by his answer.

“I have tried to give you everything! I have respected your space, I have tried to understand you, and I have done more than what anyone else would do in my position!” His grip hardened on the sides of your face as he looked trying to decipher you. 

“It is truly a shame, I thought you were an honest man.” You pulled your face away from his hand as you pushed him away, narrowing your eyes at him. “You don’t think I know of your whore!?”

“What whore? I have been faithful to you, I have never needed anyone but you.” There was no way you would’ve known about the kiss, and in any case, you were not married to him yet. Though Cregan knew they were excuses. To kiss someone under a weird wood tree. Any Stark knows that only oaths are sworn under that tree.

“What happened that day? The day where you were nearly burned?” You finally asked him, your patience had run out. You watched him as he avoided your eyes and stayed silent. 

You scoffed and an unbelieving smile on your face. “You cannot even face yourself! I would’ve never thought it of you. You didn’t seem the lying kind, had it not been for my dragon, I would’ve been none the wiser.” You shouted at him while he stood in silence. You walked closer to him, your eyes narrowed in anger and betrayal. “And you never would’ve told me. You’d be happily prancing around with her, behind my back whilst I labor?” 

“Fine! Yes, I kissed her-” Cregan admitted, but never did he ever think of taking her as a mistress. 

“At the very place where you and I wed!” You cut him off. You didn’t know what to name this feeling. It was humiliation and something else. Something for which you did not know the words for, and it caused you to doubt yourself. What did she have that you did not? 

“It was a mistake, one I will spend the rest of my days atoning for it! I do not care for her!” Cregan spoke desperately trying to make you understand that Arra means nothing to him.

“And this!” You made a gesture towards yourself and him. “What a waste! This is such a waste!” Your hands covered your face as if trying to hide you from the ridiculousness of it all. “This marriage could’ve been so much more! If you had just- IF YOU HAD JUST THOUGHT WITH WHAT IS IN BETWEEN YOUR EARS AND NOT WHAT'S IN BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!” You screamed at him, it was the first time you had ever raised your voice at him. Raise your voice at anyone in Winterfell. 

“It was a mistake and I am sorry, truly!” He gripped onto you trying to keep you still as he reasoned with you. “You are the only woman in my life! Never once did I ever think of Arra once you and I married. Not another woman has held me as you have! I do not ask for your forgiveness, not yet, but I ask for understanding. I ask that you know that you are the only woman I will ever love, the only woman I will ever give children to. You are the mother of my children. You are all that matters to me!” He held your face and you tore away from him

“You have disrespected me, Cregan! Humiliated me in front of someone who doesn’t compare to me in any way. Yet you…” You breathed before looking at him with an accusatory look.

“You made me doubt my worth.” You spoke in low tones as if confirming it to yourself. 

“Do you know how much I was worth before I married you?” Your voice rose as you pointed to yourself. “I secured crucial alliances all with the possibility of my hand! Not even a promise, but just a possibility that my blood, the blood of the dragon, would flow through their family line!”

Cregan watched you and though you yelled at him, he felt pity for you. All you saw yourself, all your worth was from your name. From what you stood to inherit.  

“I am worth a thousand of your men and twice as many noblewomen because of my blood! There is not a power that can hope to stand against the House of the Dragon if it were united!” You yelled your chest oscillating as you attempted to catch your breath. Your hair was loose as golden trinkets fell on the floor. 

Looking at the gold that fell, you pulled out another piece and threw it at Cregan who had just been standing there, giving you this…a look you couldn’t describe but it irked you.“Do you see this gold? All of it means nothing when compared to me! Others wear gold to elevate themselves in the eyes of others. When I have gold, the gold wears me. I elevate anything I touch and you make me doubt myself! And for what? A lady of a lower house!? Nearly common!?” You yelled. That woman was nothing to you, yet he saw fit to degrade you to her level. It was unthinkable. You were heir to the Iron Throne, the blood of the Dragon. You would always be worth more than anyone else. 

You watched as Cregan stepped closer, and as he did you stepped back. For every step you took backward, he took one forward. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for this man. Someone who did not see your worth. Someone who had you questioning everything about yourself. Suddenly your back hit the warm rock. You had never noticed the walls being warm. They always seemed so cold to you. 

Cregan’s warm rough hands cradled your face once more. You tried to move but his grip was firm. He had never used this force with you, always letting you tear yourself away from him, but now, you were caught between a wall and him. 

“Let me go.” You hissed out looking away from him. 

“That is not what you are worth to me,” Cregan spoke in a low voice. 

Your eyes turned to look at him with confusion. “What?” It was a small whisper that came out a bit muffled with his hands on your face. 

“The blood of the dragon means nothing to me. I did not agree to marry you for the blood you carry.” He spoke as he watched your face morph into a puzzled look then into a defensive one. Your hands came to hold his own while they held your face. “You are to be the mother of my children. You simply are yourself to me. That in itself is worthy enough. Your blood was not the one that captured me when you first kissed me, even if it was not where I wanted you to kiss me.”

You felt disappointment pool in your stomach as he spoke. “I only matter because I will be the mother of your children!?” 

Cregan sighed as his thumb caressed your cheek. “You matter to me because you are my wife. If you were not, then you would matter to me because I made an oath to you. You matter to me not because of the worth you carry, but because you are mine and I am yours. There is no one else.” He rested his forehead against yours.

As you felt his skin against yours, you wanted to rip yourself away. Your entire life has been defined by one thing. Your blood. Blood of the Dragon, Blood of the Seas. It had been questioned, your worth had been brought into question. All your life had been spent telling you how important you were because you were your mother's heir. Always had to act the part, always had to look the part because your it was your blood’s worth, your worth was always called into question. For someone to tell you this, for the very man who had managed to make you feel as if you lost all your worth by marriage, for him to tell you this, it was like poison to you. No one can live with such poison. The hope that it gives you, the hope he gives you. It is a poison that anyone could become addicted to. If taken away, it would kill you. 

You shook your head refusing to accept the poison he was feeding you, but as much as you shook your head, you tilted your face upwards, closing your eyes, a yearning that should not be there. 

You felt his lips brush yours. A slight roughness to them, and before you could register, you found yourself pulling his hands away from your face desperate to kiss him.

However, he lifted his face upwards instead of kissing your forehead. 

A pang of humiliation hit you hard as you looked down. Even now he humiliated you, even as you gave in to him.

You felt his hands cradle your face again and made you look up. But your face was a shade of red that no matter how hard you tried to push down, it wouldn’t leave. This room that had once been so cold, now you felt as if it was burning your skin. 

“I swear to you, my Crown Princess. Your grace, now and forever, till the end of our days. I will always tell you the truth, truths about yourself, and truths about myself. Never will I give you a reason to doubt me. I will not let myself have you until you accept your worth to me.” Once more he leaned forward and you let yourself close your eyes not having the will to say anything back. 

You felt his soft lips against your cheek before he let you go. 

You stood there as he let you go. You kept your eyes closed as you felt the cold air hit your face when he walked behind you, his body no longer shielding you from the cold. 

You felt his hands on your hair, taking out the gold pieces and undoing your braids. Then you felt his hands undo the laces on your dress. As he took your arm pulling out from the sleeve of the dress, then doing the same to the other. Until your dress fell down leaving you bare, safe for your undergarments. 

Despite that, you felt awfully vulnerable as his hand went to take yours. You had been bare in front of him many times before, but this time, you felt like hiding away from him. Your hand went to cover your breasts as he sat down on the bed facing you. 

Cregan took your hand and pulled you to him. You fell onto his lap as he laid back. You hid yourself in him. He fixed himself on the bed bringing you with him as you stayed hiding within his chest. You both stayed like that. His hands wrapped around you holding close to him as his fingers traced symbols on your back, and you relished the safety of being able to hide away and the warmth he provided. In the same room where the cold had been unbearable, you now took cover from it using your husband.

…

You cried out shaking your head begging. “I can’t, I can’t! Make it stop! Please! Please make it stop, I can’t, I can’t!”

“You must push!” The Master spoke as the wet nurse cleaned the sweat from your brow. 

“No! No! No, I can’t!” You cried as you felt the excruciating pain between your legs. The child refused to come out, and you couldn’t anymore. It was too much. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” It was all you could say and only stopped to gasp for air. 

“It’s too much, it hurts, it hurts. Please just make it stop” You continued to cry. 

Cregan stood by you watching as you struggled. He watched the Maester stand as Cregan followed.

“Help her.” It was a command. Cregan had watched you struggle for hours, but the child simply wouldn’t come. The Maester looked at him with a helpless look as your cries continued in the background. 

“I do not think the child will live like my lord.” The Maester spoke. 

“Will my wife?” A child, they could make another, but you? After these past months, everything he’s built with you? There was nothing that could replace you. 

“Possibly, at the expense of the child my lord.” The Maester spoke with such carefulness. “We can extract the child and it will live…however it would cut into the mother’s womb directly-”

“No, save my wife.” Cregan rejected the idea immediately. There would be too much blood loss, he would lose you and that wasn’t an option for him.

“If the child does not live, there is a possibility that she will become infertile.” The Maester tried once more. “Save. My. Wife.” Was all Cregan said before returning to your side as you cried. 

“They're going to take out the baby, it’ll be over soon.” Cregan watched you nod as tears spilled from your eyes. 

He watched the Maester as you gave one final push.

“The child! It was crowned! Push once more! Once more, the child will be out!” The Maester urged and gave it all you had, you pushed and you heard a cry. 

Cregan furrowed his brows. The Maester had said only one of you would live. Cregan stood up leaving you to carry your newborn. 

“What did you do?” Cregan asked in a low tone, narrowing his brow at the Maester. “I did nothing, I swear it. It was your wife. She persevered.” The Maester assured him.

Cregan looked back at you, a gleam of sweat on your face as you held your child. White hair on the top of its head. 

“A boy your grace.” The wet nurse smiled. You looked towards Cregan and gave him a smile and he returned it. 

Cregan walked to you and kissed your forehead as he looked down at his son, your heir. “He looks like you.” 

“A shame, I wished he took after his father.” Cregan gave another smile as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“Hold him.” You told him as you handed him off to your husband smiling, feeling the warmth radiating off your husband. Though you think the window is left open, because even as you felt Cregan’s warmth, the cold air seemed to overwhelm it. You shivered a bit as you looked towards your child and Cregan. 

“A Valyrian name. He was born Targaryen, as his mother.” Cregan leans against you, warming you. 

“Meaximus.” You whispered out smiling. “Meaximus Targaryen, my heir.”

Cregan went once more to kiss your face, but before he could process it, you moved yourself so that you would be kissing his lips. Your lips fit perfectly against his, moving in perfect motions as if this was your millionth kiss when it was your first one. The first kiss was shared with your husband. 

As you broke off the kiss to breathe, you gave him a smile. “You are my love,” You kissed him again. “My joy.” Once more you kissed him cupping his face. “You are my refuge.” Kissing him as if it were the last and he returned your eagerness. “And the truth of my life.” Once more you kissed him hoping to feel the warmth you had spent the last months basking in.

However as you kissed him, the warmth that he once filled with was overwhelmed by a cold. As you pulled away from him shivering and giving a smile you pulled the sheets up trying to keep yourself warm. You had never felt this cold, the fire in your blood, never allows you to run this cold.

But here you were, shivering. “P-perhaps they should…close the window no? It’s cold Cregan. He could catch a cold.” 

Cregan furrowed his brows. There were no windows open, in fact, this room was the warmest in all of Winterfell. He had made it so, knowing you much preferred warmth. He looked back toward the Maester whose hands were coated in blood. A slow shake of his head made Cregan shiver. He looked back at you, the flush of your face that always seemed to be there was now gone, and instead, your teeth clattered and your eyes looked tired. 

“Come!” Cregan spoke in desperation trying to keep you warm. “Just come,” You listened and cuddled close to Cregan, fingertips touching the cheek of your son who flinched away and made a face as he began to cry. 

“I’m cold Cregan.” You spoke as your hands touched his face. You were trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist. 

Cregan felt your cold hands draw him closer and once more he kissed you, but your lips were no longer warm, instead, they were cold and he felt them chapped. He leaned back. He watched you give a small smile as you began to cry. 

You looked up at him, then down to your son and as you did a lone tear escaped your eye. You didn’t want to die. Not yet, not now. Not when everything was going so well. You wanted to live, to have more children with Cregan, give him an heir. To see your son grow and you hope that he inherited his father's rugged handsomeness and not the beauty from the Targaryens. To see your little brothers meet your son. To see your mother rise to the throne and bless your son. You didn’t want to die. Not yet. However, it didn’t stop the black dots from taking your view. 

“Please…” You heard it faintly being spoken, like prayer or more so begging and you faintly registered a feeling of something on your lips. Closing your eyes you leaned into the kiss. A final kiss from your husband.

…

“He is beautiful,” Rhaenyra whispered as she looked at the boy whose beauty was unparalleled by any other child she had ever seen while tears escaped her eyes. She watched as Cregan nodded. The son between you and Cregan would be beautiful. A beauty that would transcend time and be sung about in ballads hundreds of years from now. 

Your son, your heir, your legacy. All that remained of her firstborn child. Her first and only daughter had lived with her. Try as she might, Rhaenyra could not stop the tears from falling. Her daughter, her heir, lost to childbirth as her mother was. Your dragon, Acrocanthosaurus, stood off to the side ready to burn you when commanded. Cregan had been kind enough to bring your body back to her to be burned like how all Targaryens left. 

Once more, she was made to burn her own family. As she tried to move forward, she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to burn her daughter. Not her daughter. So she stayed still watching what remained of you in his father's arms. 

“Dracarys!” Rhaenyra heard and she turned her head to find Jacaerys with that same look she once had when she had to burn her mother. Rhaenyra watched her sons, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey look at their sister as she burned. Little Aegon and Viserys in Daemon’s arms as he watched ahead with an unmoving face. 

Then she looked over to see your son who did not look upon your burning body but instead looked up towards Acrocanthosaurus. A wobbly smile grew on Rhaenyra’s face as she began to sob. 

The only thing that remained of you, it would only make sense if your blood once again reclaimed Acrocanthosaurus.

Notes: Jon Snow would hate to see reader coming. She does not fw these bastards 😭

Took inspo from Cerslay of Cuntly Rock (this edit pushed me to finish it)

All credit to tik toker: moonqsnat

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

[stinmybubs]

“Do It For Us.” Pt.1 1k likes special !

Summary: A simple girl, quirkless and will never amount to anything! Well that’s what’s she’s been told. Bullied along side Izuku Midorya, her best friend, and long term crush. Getting into UA and having a quirk? And she’s left behind…what’s left for her?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: bullying, domestic abuse, and violence!! NOT PROOFREAD !!

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader! x B.Katsuki?

Quirkless. A label that’s been slapped onto you for as long as you can remember, something you couldn’t control. But you still got punish all your life, you were bullied, scorned, and outcasted by others and your own family. But.

You had Izuku Midoriya, another quirkless person. You weren’t suffering alone!

That’s what you thought at least.

For the longest time you’ve stayed by Izuku’s side, defending him from bullies, taking the hit for him. But he always had this big ambition to be a hero, you of course encouraged him.

“One day! Even though I don’t have a quirk…I’ll be just like him. I’ll make people feel safe!” The small boy exclaimed, the biggest smile painted across his face, and you admired that. You admired every part of this boy.

“Yeah! You’ll be the greatest hero! Show them all Izu, show them we can help…do it for us!” You wanted to share this moment, you wanted to be happy with him about this dream. All you could do was hope, but deep down you felt dread, knowing his dream could never be fulfilled.

“Y/n! Y/n l/n! Get your ass downstairs IMMEDIATELY.” Hearing the screams of your father, your heart dropping at the sudden call.

You heart raced with every step, trying your best to keep your composure before even reaching the bottom of the steps.

“Ye-“ before you could even utter a word you felt a sharp pain against your cheek. The hit was so strong you collapsed to the floor, the feeling of tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“What is this!?” Your father slammed a bunch of papers onto you. It was your test scores. C- and D+ written on all of them.

“I…I…I’m sorry father I-“ your words cut off with another slap to your face.

“First no quirk! Then you keep bringing these home? How useless are you? I expected you to at least to be smart since you’re quirkless.” Your father insulted you, and all you could do was sit there and stare at the floor trying to contain all your tears and rage.

It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t control whether you had a quirk. It was your parents fault, something in their genetics made you this way! Is what you wanted to think.

“Go back to your room. Fucking shit…” your father turned to walk away, your mother making dinner in the kitchen not having a care in the world for your well being.

You frantically pick up the papers scattered on the floor, tears streaming down your face as you run back up the stairs to hide in your room.

All you could do was throw your papers on the floor and rush to your small closet. You’ve always hid in your closet, not even your bed or your room felt safe when things like this happened. The small cramped space made you feel safe.

Curling up in a ball, 15 year old you cried. Cried for hours until you fell asleep in that closet.

The next morning you quickly got ready before anyone could wake. Sneaking yourself food for breakfast and lunch.

As you make your way down to you and Izuku’s meeting spot you couldn’t help but think. Of how your mother wasn’t always like this, she used to defend you, she used to help you.

She used to love you.

But after all the bearings, after all the insulting she finally stopped. So broken down to the point where she couldn’t even look at you anymore. You couldn’t help but hate her for it, you needed her.

“Hey! Oh…what happened…?” Izuku quickly ran up to you.

You didn’t even notice the boy until his hand placed itself upon your cheek to make you look at him, the sting of the bruise made you flinch.

“Oh…! Uh…bullies ahah..got me last night.” You lied. The last thing you wanted to do was worry Izuku about your home life, he never knew about your family. And he never will.

“Ah..I’m sorry y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t get to walk you home last night.” He pulled you into a tight hug, tears begging to run down the boys face. You hugged him back, finding comfort in his warmth. A perfect morning. You thought.

You two chat, wiping the tears from each others eyes and make your way to your middle school.

You loved every bit of Izuku’s company, it felt safe, it felt like home.

“Yeah! Then Mount lady came in and-“ Izuku rambled on and on about the fight that happened with an amateur villain this morning. “Woah! I love Mount lady! She’s so cool.” You state, imagining what Izuku was describing.

“You know it would be cool if Mount lady could control her size! Like what if she could…” Izuku began to mutter again. Oh how you found this habit so cute. When this happened you sat and listened until he realized what he’s doing and get flustered as always.

The school day was hell, you and Izuku getting picked on by Bakugou Katsuki and his little gang all day.

“I would pass out career forms but we all know…-!” The teacher went on to talk about the hero tracks, with everyone celebrating.

“Oh yeah, Izuku Midorya didn’t you want to attend UA too?”

What…?

You quickly look over at your friend as soon as the class starts to burst into laughter. You didn’t know how to feel, you though he might’ve given up that dream already. But he hasn’t. Hah…I guess you never give up Izu.

After the commotion and class was over you padded over to Izuku hugging him from his shoulders behind him. “Gotcha Izu!” You giggle as the startled boy let out a yelp.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared!” You laugh looking over to see what he was writing. Cute! You thought seeing the notes on other heros quirks.

“How could a quirkless guy like you have a girlfriend?” Oh boy. One of Katsuki’s lackies stated, even though you weren’t his girlfriend you never will deny not being his.

“Don’t ya’ dare even try useless Deku! Once I am the only-“ you tune out Katsuki’s words, anger filling your body, your smiled immediately fading into a frown. Letting go of Izuku as the frightened boy jolted up out of his seat.

“What’s this!? He’s writing about being a hero!?”

Your heart dropped when Katsuki grabbed the notebook, your blood boiling at soon as he exploded the notebook your best friend work so hard on and throwing it out the window like it was trash.

You couldn’t control yourself, all you felt was pent up anger and you could help but run to Bakugou and.

SLAP. The noise echoed throughout the empty classroom. Adrenaline rushing through your body, realizing what you’ve done.

“You bully! You’re the pathetic one for bullying helpless people with your quirks! We never asked for this! We couldn’t control whether we are quirkless or not! Why should we be punished? It’s unfair and-“ you quickly shut your mouth. Realizing everything was pouring out in that moment, and realizing the anger in the the boys red eyes.

You had slapped Katsuki Bakugou. And now all you felt was fear, quickly trying to retreat before Bakugou grabbed your wrist tightly. “Ow-!” You wince in pin at the grip, it felt like he was going to snap your wrist.

“Kachann stop!” Izuku put himself between you and the blonde. “You can hurt me but you should never hurt a girl!” He states a angrily. Bakugou simply huffed, finally letting go of your wrist and stomping out the classroom.

You wince in pain, grabbing your own wrist taking a good look. “It’s already bruising…” you slump in one of the nearby chairs. You really wanted to cry, but you couldn’t. You’re were too tired.

“I’m sorry…” feeling the warmth of Izuku’s hug felt a bit better, but you were just so tired of feeling so helpless, useless, and weak.

You try everything not to go home, sitting there on a park bench for what felt like ages. It’s not like you haven’t done this before, sleeping outside to avoid your parents.

“I’ll sleep in the park…I didn’t eat lunch so I have dinner..” you sigh, taking out the bag of food you packed, staring at the onigiri in your hand.

“Oi’ the hell you doin here.” Your heart sank, hearing the angry voice of Bakugou. “N-none of your business..” you don’t even look up at him. You just start opening up your onigiri.

“It’s gettin’ dark. A girl shoul-“ you cut him off. “What’s it to you huh!?” You yell, taking a bite out of your food just hoping he goes away. Praying he doesn’t keep talking to you.

A long pause of silence. Thinking he’s gone the tears roll down your face, falling onto your skirt as your hands begin to shake.

“Those bruises…aren’t from bullies aren’t they.”

He was still there. Your face flushed out of embarrassment. “What!? They..” you didn’t know why but…everything just flooded out.

“No…they’re from my dad…you’re not the only one who hates quirkless people.” You chuckle lightly, looking up at the blonde boy tears running down your face.

“Come.” He simply states, turning away from you, “What…?” You question, not knowing what he meant.

“You comin or nah?” He looks back at you, noticing the kind of rough state he’s in. Did he get in a fight? You thought, standing up to follow him.

You didn’t know why you were following him. You didn’t know why you didn’t feel so scared anymore.

Bakugou led you to his home, opening the door carefully and quietly. You guessed you didn’t want his parents to find out he was bringing home a girl.

Well Bakugou wasn’t sneaky enough.

“KATSUKI BAKUGOU!” The sound of his yelling mother made you flinch, subconsciously grabbing onto the back of his shirt. It’s smelt of smoke and grime.

“ugh…” you heard the boy groan he clearly wasn’t in the mood for his mom, when is he ever in the mood? You thought.

“YOU WENT AND GIT CAUGHT BY A VIL-“ Seeing the spikey-blonde hair women approach, she suddenly stopped in her tracks seeing you cowering behind her son. Woah…Bakugou looks exactly like her.

“A GIRL!? MASARU ITS FINALLY HAPPENING!”

“Stop yellin’ yer scarin her.” Katsuki stated, looking back at your cowering figure. You jump, realizing that you were holding on to him and quickly stand beside him, a bit flustered.

“Oh! I’m sorry, what’s your name sweetheart!” She leans a bit forward trying to get a look at your face, noticing the bruise on your wrist.

“It’s…Y/n.” You meekly look up at her, terrified to meet someone else’s parent. Hell you barley even met Izuku’s mom!

“Oh my..what happened to…KATSUKI DID YOU DO THIS!?” The pointed to your face, noticing the bruises on both sides of your cheeks. Oh! You forgot you had those, ever since Izuku mentioned them at least.

“No you old hag! And stop yer yellin!” Natsuki hissed, defending himself. Well he did bruise your wrist but he never slapped you. “No! It’s wasn’t him…it was…” you trailed off, clearly the topic wasn’t something you wanted to talk about.

“Oh..! Well my name is Mitsuki Bakugou… you can stay here as long as you want. Come to me if you need anything sweetheart.” She placed a hand on your cheek, it was gentle and warm. It felt nice.

You couldn’t help but lean into her touch, feeling a mothers love is something you craved for the longest time. Tears began rolling down your cheeks, running to Katsuki’s mom hugging her.

Katsuki’s eyes widened at your sudden actions, surprised that you went to hug his mother. Is it that bad? He thought, a sense of guilt and sympathy washing over him, watching you cry in his mothers arms.

After a few tears, and hugs, Mitsuki sent you off to wash up. You were sleeping in Katsuki’s room! That is until they put a bed into their office room. You felt bad for Intruding in their home, sinking into the hot water.

This home was so loving regardless of the yelling, they felt so natural so different. You were jealous of their happy home.

Mitsuki had given you some spare clothes, of course you weren’t sure if you’d fit her underwear at all, she said that you two would go out and buy some together, this was all happening so fast. You felt so guilty.

Turns out a grown women’s shorts cannot fit onto your adolescence body! Her shirt was a little baggy too, your brah also was in the wash! So looks like you were only wearing panties and a shirt to bed. Which was embarrassing.

Katsuki was laying on a futon on the floor, he was kind enough to lend you his bed.

“H-hey…Bakugou…why..why are you doing this?” You question, turning yourself over to face him.

“Dunno…just cuz..” what a vague answer he gave you. You probably knew it was for pity, or maybe your outburst put a bit of sympathy in his heart.

“I’ll be gone by tomorrow…don’t worry you won’t have a quirkless loser in your home.” Katsuki flinched at your words, a sense of guilt still in him for saying those things to you and Izuku.

“Like my ma said. Stay as long as you need. Don go back to yer parents…or yknow.” He turned over to look at you, the both of you making eye contact for a minute.

“Thanks…thank you.” You smile softly at him, letting your eyes close to get a peaceful nights worth of sleep.

AN: This will be a couple of parts! A short story :) I hope you all enjoy some soft Bakugou and Some Izuku! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY POSTS I LOVE ALL OF YOU MWAH here’s more XoXo Stinmybubs!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The evening shift is quiet. You don’t mind the low din of the atrium. The cafe offers the only light to the empty lobby. Hours ago, it was a rush of bodies and voices, now, the shops have closed down and the sign above you remains lit as the sole beacon in the business plaza. 

The slower hours are more routine than the frantic mornings filled with early risers desperate for their first dose of caffeine. You did a few weeks of that before you hopped on the evening’s rota. It gives you time to read between baking and cleaning. 

The front doors open and close, echoing through the space. It’s eerie this late at night but you it doesn’t bother you as much as it once does. The footsteps that follow add to the unease of their approach. You recognise the man by his silhouette. 

The marquee glow limns his harsh features, the stubble on his jaw adding to the sharp angles, his dark hair and brows give him a sinister slant. You smile as you stand from the stool and pour him a black coffee. You ring him up before he even gets to the counter. 

“Evening, sir,” you greet him. You still don’t know his name. All your other regulars like to chat. He doesn’t. “Black.” 

He flicks a card up between his index and middle fingers. The stamps across the rows add up to a free drink. You take it, brushing his calloused fingertips as you do. 

“Oh, a free drink. Exciting.” You cancel the transaction and slide his cup forward, “enjoy.” 

He grumbles and takes the cup. He moves to the other end of the kiosk and grabs a lid and sleeve. As he walks away, you bid him a good night. He never says much, if anything. 

You go back to sanitizing the frother. The work isn’t so dull when you have nothing else to do. The night wears on as the sky softens through the glass walls of the atrium   

Dayani arrives just before five to take over. You hand her the keys and balance the till before you go. She sends you off with the dread of the shift ahead. 

Out on the street, the lull remains. Not for much longer. The bus routes will pick up and the daily commuters will clog the streets. Your trek home is five blocks but not too bad considering. You share a loft with two other girls but you rarely run into them. You all work different shifts in different borroughs. 

Your room is at the rear of the old brick building. The legislated fire escape crosses your window and casts a shadow through the sheer curtains. You undress and unwind in your single bed. The room is small and not exactly worth the cost but it’s a roof over your head. 

You sleep until just after one. The city had you waking in spurts at the honk of an angry driver or the shouts of rowdy pedestrians. You eat the stale scone you claimed from work and have instant coffee to wash it down. 

You go through the usual. You wake up little by little and drag yourself out to the shower. You catch a glimpse of one of your roommates. Lottie barely seems to notice you as she carries a basket out the door. 

When you’re done washing up, you pull on your sweats and a loose tee. You waste some time watching TV on your phone then plug it in so you have some juice left when you leave. You eat a microwaved tray of pasta and change into your uniform. You do up your hair and face, nothing too much, and count the minutes until you’re due to leave. 

As exciting as the city can be, you can’t afford that part of it. You work, you sleep, you get by. 

Xander has an hour overlap with you before he goes. He tells you about all his midterms and the party he wants to ditch his studying for. It’s only an elective course anyway. He leaves in indecision. 

You never finished school. You did one year and dropped out. You did well enough but you couldn’t afford it. Not even the local community college in your hometown. Funny, you still came all the way out here to scrape pennies. 

The last rush of the day passes through. Those on the way to their own overnight shifts; security guards, hotel clerks, and all others. 

The silence sets in. You play around on your phone. The battery dies a lot quicker lately so you make yourself quiet the matching game and put it in your pocket. You pull out the novel you keep hidden behind the till and read until the door opens and closes. 

Same time, same man. His black hair swallows up the light of the sign above as you pour his coffee. You get him a new card and stamp it, handing it over with your usual smiling nicety. Still no response. He goes to grab his lid and sleeve. 

You wait patiently. He doesn’t march off like usual. You peek over as he strides along the counter. He drops a bill in the tip jar. You thank him. Still no answer. 

He walks off and you look in the cup. You can’t believe it. You snatch up the bill and push through the door at the side of the kiosk. You hurry after his shadow. 

“Sir, sir, I think you made some mistake--” the door closes heavily and his figure passes outside the glass panels. You can’t go that far without locking up. Oh well, he’ll be back tomorrow and you can let him know. 

You walk back to the cafe stand and dip back behind. You unfold the hundred dollar bill. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s a joke. Looks pretty real when you hold it up to the light.