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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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The Horror and the Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader]

It's time for the wedding - and the wedding night. Emperor is going to make sure you will bear his offsprings by the end of the night. Tags and TW: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator AO3

You weren’t saved from the humiliation of a public wedding.

You weren’t saved the torture of picking the flowers as you were choosing the attire to your own funeral – and you weren’t saved your innocence by allowing yourself to ignore all the handmaidens and their horrible, disgusting picture books about penetration, pools of blood and hell that is saved between the legs of a man.

“My condolences, dear princess. For your parents. And congratulations on your wedding. Our deepest hopes go to your coronation, Empress.” “From the king of South, we send our sheerest condolences. And congratulations on the wedding.” “May your parents rest in peace. And glory to the Emperor.” “Grief surely suits you, Dear Empress. As well as the crown.”

You think you might puke right in your royal garments, looking at all of the royal visitors.

King Price of Southern Kingdom, with all of his knights – you do not know if you can find solace in the girl clinging to the hand of his masked knight, the stench of death filling you with calmness that you don’t know how to deal with. The girl is terrified, just like you – if you may, you’re probably the same age, that years of servitude grazing in the hands that are covered by the sheerest amounts of gloves.

The lady – you don’t know her name, and you doubt that any woman in this hall is even allowed to have one other than her husband’s – is looking at you with understanding. You think you might actually die.

— Lady Ryley?

She smiles, and before you can go to her – hold her hands, ask her to disappear with you, maybe run away somewhere, you don’t even know where – the masked knight already drags her away, a firm hand on her shoulder. You’re alone, the weight of the royal robe is pinning you to the floor.

You are dressed in black as the only form of rebellion – guests must assume you’re still mourning your parents, the grief in their eyes is mixed with congratulations on the Empire finally getting prospects of offspring – you hope you’d tore your womb from your body before König could lay his hands on you. Guests may assume that the wedding is a tab bit strange, maybe somewhat unusual for the emperor to marry someone of your status – tiny kingdom, no worthwhile resources, and almost zero prospects for trade. Maybe, you were the only treasure this kingdom ever had to sell so eagerly.

König holds your hands because you know that you would try to run the second he is letting you go. You know he knows this, too. Guests may assume that he is being protective of his young wife – assassins aren’t unheard of in these places, after all, you were the empress now. The much smarter guests knew what kind of looks you gave him – perhaps, you had the best options at killing the notorious emperor right after he robbed you of the last remains of your dignity.

You smile and wave like a damned pampered pigeon, pretty and useless, all dressed up in bows and black pearls, dark stones illuminating the depths of your despair – only the monster you had for a husband would even consider ordering a mourning dress this beautiful. You’re almost ashamed of wanting to paint it red – you almost feel bad while holding the butter knife and thinking about plunging it into your chest, ripping away all the delicate laces and ornaments that cut through your skin each time you breathe a bit too freely.

— You look divine in this dress, meine Liebe.

He smiles, you know he is – he didn’t forget about his damn hood even on his own wedding, but he holds you dearly, but he smiles with his eyes, an eerie sense of happiness that makes every guest shake in their seats. The Ruler of the Empire doesn’t smile. Not at his wife, who looks like she would rather kill herself, for sure – but he smiles as you say your wows, knowing full well you are not going to fulfill them, but he laughs when the priest stutters once you refused to say you do the first time – König has to squeeze your hands, reminding you of your place. Even your stubbornness has a limit, apparently.

His lips are dry and chastity.

König knows he can’t kiss you like he wants to – too many guests, too many pricks, thinking they have a look on his wife. If it weren’t for the admirers and desperate rulers of foreign lands, trying to force their songs and daughters to marry him out of a pathetic attempt at saving their countries, he wouldn’t even think about a public wedding. If it weren’t for the annoyance of constantly swatting the offers away, he would never allow the world to see you. Not how beautiful you look, not how pretty your eyes are, glistening with tears, not how much he just wanted to smother you with affection like there isn’t anyone around.

Hells, if he knew so many people would accept the short notice for an invitation, he would invade their kingdoms while they were away at his wedding.

König holds your face in his hands, the contrast between soft skin and his gloves is making you shiver – he pushes his hood up, even just for a little bit, and the only thing that is ever revealed to the audience is the scars on his chin and sudden dryness of his lips. He thought he overcame his childish anxiety when he was still a tiny bird stuck in his adolescence – but he looks at you, his pretty little princess, and his hands are shaking from the anticipation of a kiss.

The guests will assume you’re crying because you love him so, so much.

The Emperor knows better, kissing the tears from your lips like it was the sweetest treat around.

*** You thought you were smart.

You really did.

Such a slick motion, such an easy task – the girl coming with Knight Riley, the weak one, with trembling hands and face that spoke of innocence of lambs and with calloused hands of a fellow worker, took your hand as you were leaving. The veil of laughs and jokes about finally conceiving a worthy heir for the empire made you shiver from horror – and the girl swatted you to her side, a single sleight of hand putting…something in your palms.

Some sort of plant – dried, smelling of something sweet and edible, flowers that would feel crispy on your tongue. She smiles softly, her hands are gentle on yours – she whispers in your ear before your respective monsters can catch you and throw you in their layers again.

She said, it was mercy.

She said, it would make -it- feel quick and easy.

You hoped, it was a poison.

It had to be, you wouldn’t accept anything else – the desire to die and fulfill the destiny of a loyal servant, the whispers of the god of dignified death – you may not see the sweetness of the afterlife with your Princess, but killing oneself to save their bodies from being violated is a worthy fate for any. You pushed the plant in your mouth as swiftly as possible, chewing on the dried grass and crispy flowers, hoping the effect would be immediate.

You’re bathed and oiled like a pig for devour, short for the apple stuffed in your mouth – instead, you have forced a mouthful of wine, goblets after goblets. To ease the tension of the first night, the servants said, smiling understandably. You feel warm, you feel dizzy, you feel hellishly feverish, and it couldn’t be just from the alcohol – you close your eyes and hope that the plant took its way finally, releasing you from the shell of the mortal life. You’re dressed up in pretty garments, skimpy as something that the empress should never wear – you feel like a cheap whore when your skin is glossy with oils and decorated with flowers.

Just before you started chewing on them too, your husband finally arrived.

You hoped you’d be dead before ever seeing him naked again – but you’re forced to watch his muscles tense as the only thing saving his lack of dignity is the smallest ever piece of undergarments. It doesn’t help in hiding his arousal, the monstrosity between his legs. You knew you would have to die before he is ever putting anything in you – but you see the outline of his manhood, poking from the side of a simple cloth, and somehow, you feel hotter than before.

You blame it on the wine, you blame it on the poison you took. The warmness is spreading in your tummy to your lower areas, forcing its way to moisture your garments, a wet spot, embarrassingly big for an Empress, is slowly spreading between your oiled, scented legs. You’re nothing but a feast for him, a pretty little snack – you knew how much he liked to eat, after all. What great talent he had in forcing your legs apart and showing his head between them, that sinful tongue of his speaking of prayers and soft little blasphemies in the sweetness of your maidenhood.

— You’re burning, little princess.

You hoped it’s the poison working.

For a second, he placed his hand on your forehead and caressed it softly, accessing your temperature. For a second, the cold of his hands made you nuzzle into his palm like a cat that was fed nothing but the finest pieces of meat by the hand that was ready to skin it for its skin. For a second, you hoped that his embrace alone would be enough to kill you.

If you die, which you must do, you wish it would be with his hands holding you softly.

— A virgin fewer? I thought you’d know what we’re going to do by now, little prin…

— Don’t stop be from dying.

You let go of those words before you could claim your silence.

König’s hands are grasping you immediately, a finger lays in your mouth, making you gag – you open your lips from instinct, no matter how much you want to stop him from ever entering your mouth. He is weirdly smooth with you, the other hand going to grab your waist and press you on the bed – like you ever had a chance to stand against him and run away. Like he didn’t have a row of guards just outside the door.

— Dying? Scheisse, dumme What did you do?

He quickly grasped your tongue, the traces of the flower still lingered on your teeth, on the further corners of your mouth – you didn’t know if you had to spit it out or eat it whole, and you didn’t want to guess in the matters of death and loss of dignity. You gag on his fingers as he laughs – an unusual sound. First, the smiles and happiness in his voice, the rings and chains he put you in, and now laugh? Perhaps you died already, and this is your eternal damnation.

— Let go of me! You have no…

— Were you still so scared, Liebling?

— I wasn’t…what do you mean, Your Highness?

The title is good, the title puts some distance between you and him. Only imaginary – he is still as close as possible, hands on your body, wiping the traces of the flowers on the silk sheets and holding you in his embrace again, as tight as he possibly can. You feel ill, you feel hot, every time he puts his hands on you, you can feel your core throbbing, the poison making you dizzy and dumb.

You almost feel like begging him to touch you again – and again, and again. König, for one, can’t wait to watch.

— I wonder where you got it. Such a clever Katzen, ja? Eating aphrodisiacs before her wedding night, like I would just mount you like an animal without preparing my wife?

He laughs and laughs, hand in your hair, petting you gently like you truly were a cat. You’re dumbfounded, the fewer makes everything make less and less sense. You close your eyes, you open your eyes – you feel him on you. Looking, watching, observing, you want him to stop, and you want him to rip away those stupid garments and touch you, as he did in that dim hallway, to push his masterful, sinful tongue down your folds and treat you like a…

You whimper as you fell on the sheets, truly embracing the cat in-heat stance you were for the last few minutes. You roll on the sheets, smooth silk makes your core cool just a bit, the pressure only building with each time you try to hump the sheets, not caring anymore if you were behaving like an animal.

Perhaps, the Knight’s maiden really wanted to make everything easier for you – just in her own way.

— Wh…what have you done to me?

He is bracing his hands between your legs, lingering touches on the wetness of your garments, making you both shiver in anticipation. He is forcing his tongue on you, the immediate pressure making you meow from the sensation. You hate it, you hate it, you have to hate it because if you don’t, then what the hell are you even doing. It’s too much and too little, it does nothing to relief the warmth between your legs, only making you wetter with each stroke of his wide, warm tongue. — I haven’t done anything, little princess. You just want me.

— I would never want you.

— I can stop.

You snap your legs around his neck before he can withdraw his face.

König is laughing, the sheer adorableness of your expression making him want you even more. You look perfect, so lost in desire for him – gods, he just wanted to devour you, to strip you of all you worth and make you his just as much as he is yours. But simply pleasing you with his tongue won’t ever be enough for this night – he had waited for so long, too long, disgustingly long, he had to have you in every way possible. If he won’t consummate the marriage today, he might as well just die.

Other night, he will make you beg – plead for him to give you his cock, push the throbbing member in your trembling folds, snap the pleasure from your hands and force you to accept being his wife. The other night, he could wait and tease you for as long as possible. The other night…

He doesn’t have the patience for this night – he can’t even kiss you now, the mere feeling of your trembling lips would snap him beyond repair. It’s unfair to you, little princess, his desire is too much for someone like you to take – alas, he has to have you. Alas, he will have you, one way or the other, even if he’d have to push your pretty head into the pillows and force his manhood between your folds.

But you plead for him, the desire in your eyes, mixed with fear and anticipation, is enough for him to laugh again, his hand squeezing your chest. You look divine, absolutely – you would look even better when properly bred, tits full of milk, and belly swollen with his little soldiers. Emperor never thought of getting an offspring, always knew his fate was to fall into obscurity with the country he created, but you have wide hips, a soft belly, and warm hands – all the requirements of a mother. But you have the submissiveness of a pet and the wit of a wife.

But he can’t wait to push his seed into you – with a groan, before you could even lay your eyes on his cock, he is already forcing it in, ravaging all the resistance you once had.

The plant made you warm, aroused, and wet enough to be dripping when he first pushed his cockhead between your glistening folds. You cry, the feeling of being intruded, ravaged, bot entirely painful, but now very pleasant either, is nothing you were expecting of the first night with your husband. You were expecting screaming, pools of blood, half of your organs falling out from the newly made hole between your legs.

You just feel…intruded. The knot in your stomach is as tight as ever, even as König gives you a few minutes to adjust, the outline of his manhood throbbing in your tummy. You don’t even want to look at him, and he allows you to drift into a trance, the aphrodisiac you took doing all the job of preparation for him.

He is feeling you, raw and sensitive, your maidenhood is dripping down your thighs and his cock as he wasn’t exactly gentle – he will be the next night, and the night after, and after, he will promise to take care of you, little princess, but this night is about taking what belongs to him – and he will never allow you to keep your dignity when you can simply be his dumb, adorable wife.

— You’re so…heavens, princess, you’re strangling me.

He laughs, struggling to push in and out, his hand finding its place on your folds, playing and tugging with your swollen little clit. The bud is wet, no matter the pain you’re experiencing – the drug won’t allow you to stop wanting it, wanting him, König knows it’s not genuine, he has to work to make you this aroused, but for now, it will work. He doesn’t want you to feel pain – and he will make sure you’re able to take him.

— Too much, it’s…stop, wait, I am…

— You can take it, Schatzi.

— I can’t! — You will.

You whimper under him, you cry under him, he only continues to move, tearing your loyalty to your kingdom with each harsh thrust. You came to this room wanting to die, but now you feel your hands wrapping around his neck, your hips buckling to meet his, to bring the overcoming pleasure like König isn’t the one to tear you apart – you feel raw, you feel tainted, the pleasure in your folds is nothing what you ever had before.

You’re betraying yourself with each moan and each whimper – you find yourself begging for him, the tears of yours is not just from pain anymore. He kisses you, rough lips on your mouth, making sure you’re as prepared for him as he is, you want for him to stop, but you plead with him to continue.

— Stop already…I…

— I only came twice, little princess. And you – trice. Doesn’t feel fair, ja? — ‘s not, I can’t take it anymore…

— I will breed you, Schatzen. Until you’re swollen with my sons. — It w…won’t be royal children…

— Ach, my blood is enough to make a dog royal. — But…

— I will breed you, little princess. You can stop pretending you don’t want it.

You’re not even sure at what orgasm you are already – you feel like he came already, the wetness in your cunt should be evident of his already breeding you quite a few times, but the time is a blur when every time you cum, your vision blurs and your brain becomes foggier and foggier.

König knows you will look perfect, all thoughtless and swollen with his children – not now, maybe, with a few elixirs to enhance your ability to bear children, but he can’t wait till you’re done. You might not like it at first, princesses do tend to be just a bit dumb when it comes to their duties, but there is something in your eyes that is telling him you’re going to bring him sons just like a good girl you are. Just like he expects you to do, your pretty tummy all swollen, and your body is barely handling the passion of his lovemaking. Gods, he knew you would be worth it. Even if, to his knowledge, you’re not a princess at all.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig cod #male yandere #yandere male

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raincitygirl76 · 1 year ago

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Excellent post about Intergenerational trauma. Kristina is both a victim of the system and an enforcer of it. She got all the rebelliousness ground out of her when she was younger, and she survived the process.

So now it’s her son’s turn to submit to the system. And she’ll nudge him along every step of the way. Because she’s retroactively decided that her parents and the royal court broke her spirit because they love her. So she has to express her love by doing the same to her son.

tbh we don't talk about the depiction of generational trauma in young royals enough. we see kristina lecture wille multiple times on the importance of keeping up an image, and how mistakes reflect on the entire family. erik, while a more positive figure in wille's life and more aware of his brother's anxiety, recites the same thing practically word for word. even when he's teasing wille about having a crush and encouraging him to hang out with simon, erik still tells wille to put on a persona for the rest of the school and mingle. in wille's fight with simon, he blurts out the same bs about his family's reputation etc. etc., but instantly regrets it when he starts to lose simon.

kristina's probably had the speech she teaches to her children drilled into her from a young age, since both she and erik had known from the start that they were the heirs. wille, as the "spare," has more doubts about these values and priorities, shown when he argues that he just wants a normal life in episode one. he actively pushes back against his family's demands right up until erik's death. wille's always idolized and admired his brother, so when the title of crown prince and its responsibilities are passed to him, so is the pressure to adhere to the crown's tradition.

the show does a great job of showing that even though wille really, really wants to break free for simon and for himself, all it takes is one short conversation with his mother from the cycle to drag him right back in. generational trauma is never easy to break free from, much less when you're an anxiety-ridden teenager with the weight of a country on your shoulders, unprocessed grief from losing your brother, and on top of that, the added trauma of just being outed in the worst way possible. kristina even tells him about her own "unfortunate romance" that ended because she was taught to choose the crown over everything else.

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witchthewriter · 8 months ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧

"𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑙𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑇𝑟𝑢𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒"

One of the oldest Houses, the Velaryons survived the Doom and established themselves in the New World.

The first Velaryon mentioned was Lady Valaena Velaryon. The mother of Aegon the Conquorer and his sister-wives; Visenya and Rhaenys. She had been married to Lord Aerion Targaryen, and moved with her family to inhabit Dragonstone when they fled the Doom.

House Velaryon was of Valyrian descent, and inherited such features. They include silver-gold or white hair as well as purple, violet, blue, grey or green eyes.

For a time, not only did House Velaryon have power over the seas, but also in the sky. They were once dragonriders. The marriage between Rhaenys and Corlys produced two children that bonded with dragons; Laena rode Vhagar, and Laenor with Seasmoke.

House Velaryon's ancestoral seat was Driftmark, the largest island of Blackwater Bay in the crownlands. Their castles include Driftmark and High Tide. The head of House Velaryon is titled Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark.

It was traditional for the sons of House Velaryon to experience a seafarer's life when young. This created a love for the sea for Velaryon members.

The Velaryons were the oldest and closest allies of the Targaryens for centuries. For a long time they kept the positions of master of ships and lord admiral, as the family provided most of the royal fleet.They sat on the Small Council.

After Robert's Rebellion, the new king, Robert I Baratheon, gave the castle Dragonstone to his brother Stannis. The Velaryons have been sworn to House Baratheon of Dragonstone ever since.

A traditional name of the Velaryons is Jacaerys.

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goodqueenaly · 5 months ago

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what do you think is the reason for baelor breakspear, the literal crown prince, marrying jena dondarrion, a lady from a very minor house in the dornish marches who presumably didnt like the dornish very much? could it have been daeron ii arranging this marriage to curry favour with dorne's enemies by marrying his very dornish son to a marcher lord's daughter and thus in a way simulating peace between the marchers and the dornish in the eyes of the realm? or could it have been a way to keep the blackfyre supporters in line assuming baelor married after the first rebellion, since one of the reasons for the uprising was anti-dornish sentiment?

Number one, I don’t think we can call the Dondarrions “a very minor House”. Indeed, Yandel himself counts the Dondarrions (alongside the Swanns, Selmys, and Carons) as one of “[t]he greatest of the Marcher lords” and refers to the Dondarrion seat of Blackhaven as “[a]mong the sternest of the Marcher seats … with its forbidding black basalt walls and bottomless dry moat”. Lord Harmon Dondarrion seems to have been of equal rank to Lord Tarly and Lady Caron, as all served as commanders during the campaign in Aenys I’s reign against the Vulture King, and Lord Dondarrion served as one of the three Marcher representatives at the wedding of Queen Alyssa and Rogar Baratheon. Queen Alysanne clearly considered the Dondarrions important enough to include on the royal couple’s tour of the Dornish Marches in 54 AC, and later a Dondarrion was one of the “dozen fresh young maidens chosen from amongst a hundred who coveted the distinction of serving as a companion to the queen [i.e. Alysanne]" - proof, I think, of the rank of the Dondarrions even relative to other Westerosi aristocrats. Notably as well in the main novels, Sansa thinks that while Jeyne Poole - herself an aristocrat, albeit an actually low-ranking and probably landless one - mooned after Lord Beric, the Lord of Blackhaven “would never look at someone so far beneath him”.

Number two, it seems almost certain that Baelor and Jena were married prior to the First Blackfyre Rebellion. Valarr, their elder son, was not only old enough to joust as a knight at Ashford in 209 AC, suggesting that Valarr was at least 16 or so at that time, but was also big and tall enough for his nearly 40-year-old warrior father to plausibly borrow and wear his armor during the trial of seven, suggesting that Valarr was old enough to have reached his adult build and height. Personally, I think Baelor and Jena were married roughly around the mid to late 180s and Valarr was born around the late 180s, but whenever the actual wedding occurred, it’s impossible that Valarr was born in or after 196 AC, and as such his parents had to have been married ahead of the First Blackfyre Rebellion.

All of that said, why do I think Prince Baelor and Jena Dondarrion were married? Put very simply, I think Daeron II correctly recognized the fault lines of political factionalism in his kingdom and wanted to repair, rather than deepen, those divisions. From the beginning of his reign, King Daeron had very publicly advertised his desire to unite Dorne with the Targaryen kingdom. Not only was Daeron himself happily married to Myriah Martell, but as Yandel notes, “one of [Daeron’s] earliest significant acts after assuming the throne was to begin negotiations with his good-brother, Prince Maron, to unify Dorne under Targaryen rule” - negotiations which ended with the homage of Prince Maron and his wedding to the king’s sister, Princess Daenerys. Between the unique “significant rights and privileges” granted to the Dornish lords and the Prince of Dorne in particular in the peace accord, and the Dornishmen who were given places at court and “offices of note” under Daeron II, the king was making very clear that his government was openly and ardently pro-Dorne.

Yet as Daeron II certainly realized, such courtly and political favoritism toward Dorne generally and House Martell specifically would hardly be received rapturously by the entirety of his realm. From the earliest days of the Targaryen monarchy, the dragonkings had, in the tradition of the Plantagenets and any number of other real-world monarchies, claimed dominion over Dorne, in title if not in fact. Daeron I had come closest, if relatively briefly, to making this paper crown of "King of the Rhoynar" a reality, and Daeron II’s own father Aegon IV had (albeit almost certainly for selfish and petty reasons) attempted to reignite (pun intended) the conquest of Dorne by House Targaryen. Daeron II’s pro-Dorne policies, then, were very much poised to be seen, at least by some of his subjects, as a jarring reversal away from a century and a half of Targaryen posturing and conquest and toward a political reality where the Dornish were, to borrow Yandel’s phrase, “rivals for the king’s attention or largesse”. That suspicion extended to Daeron’s heir: according to Yandel, “many men looked upon Baelor’s dark hair and eyes and muttered that he was more Martell than Targaryen”. This Martell-looking eldest son of a Martell queen, double first cousins with the future of the ruling dynasty of Dorne, may have seemed to suspicious factions to be the living guarantee that Martell, and more generally Dornish, royal favor was going to continue, if not indeed be increased, in the next generation of the Targaryen monarchy.

The solution, I think, for Daeron II was to marry his eldest son and heir into one of the marcher lord dynasties. These families, founded explicitly according to Yandel to “[protect] the realm of the Storm Kings from the ancient enemies to the west and, especially, the south” and to “create a bulwark against incursions from the Dornish”, would almost certainly have been the most natural opponents of Daeron II’s pro-Dorne policies (and, given their famous pride, perhaps among the most vocal in their opposition). By choosing from among these lords for not just his daughter-in-law but the future (expected) Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and (expected) mother of the next king, Daeron II was making just as public a statement that his was not a client state of Sunspear but a united realm - one in which the proud marchers would have just as much opportunity for courtly favor and advancement as the Martells and other Dornish nobles did. The Dondarrions, and by extension any of their relatives and allies among the marchers, would be directly invested in the dynasty, with a tangible incentive for supporting Daeron II’s government (as opposed to, say, looking to Daemon Blackfyre as a rival for the throne). Too, if I can quote myself, the future (expected) royal children of Baelor and Jena, especially their (expected) eldest son and heir, “would be a microcosm of the peace Daeron sought”, as “Dornish blood and marcher blood, eternally spilled at the other’s expense, would mingle in a single person, a future king of the united state of Westeros”.

One question I do have - though we’ll probably have to wait until Fire and Blood Volume 2 for an answer - is why Daeron II selected a Dondarrion rather than, say, a Swann or Caron. It could be that there were no daughters of the right age among any of other other prominent marcher families; it could be that Daeron II knew or liked Jena’s family more than he did, say, other marcher families; it could even be that Daeron chose the Dondarrions to temper the local geopolitical ambitions of the Swanns and Carons to each be counted “the oldest of the Marcher houses” and superior over the rest, with the king perhaps quietly reminding the Swanns and Carons that he had the power to humble as well as exalt.

(Let's just hope that F&B Vol. 2 improves upon its predecessor and has Jena as an active, developed crown princess and would-be queen, rather than a walking womb or - ugh - another victim of death-by-childbirth.)

#asoiaf meta #jena dondarrion #baelor breakspear #marriage making

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sozila · 6 months ago

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chiaroscuro. (nanami x reader)

synopsis: as a princess, you had a duty to the country. to knight kento nanami, you simply were his everything.

pairing: personal knight!kento nanami x princess!fem reader.

warnings: 18+, mdni. eventual sexual descriptions.

masterlist | previous | next

you are on: realization. part one of three

a/n:

hello lovelies 🩷 i was watching my lady jane and immediately had an urge to write this, so here’s a knight nanami moment for you guys :) it’ll just be three parts, like a longer drabble if you will. enjoy!!

realization. (part one)

“princess, we really must make haste.”

the hydrangeas you were admiring were no longer sunlit with the long figured shadow cast behind you. you hum absently and continue down the ivy-stone pathway, your cream heels clicking softly.

“another five minutes will not kill my father, kento.”

knight kento nanami had to hold back a sigh. he knew better than to believe you would simply do what you were royally asked of. granted he would never dare to oppose your highness, sometimes he wished he could advise you away from the uphill battle approach you so loved to choose. it was a bit of mental torture for the young man to silently bear witness as you pleased with no fear of consequence. despite it all, he admired your courage and resilience. you were a very tough woman with a strong heart. compassion that grew for miles and miles, you simply amazed him. that kind of care was rare in this world.

you couldn’t hear the man following behind you, but you developed a sense of knowing he was always there. my loyal shadow, you’d tease him. your nimble hands brush by the soft petals and leaves of the flowers as you take in the same gardens you’ve been seeing— no, binded to, since your birth.

“a divine princess does not go on outings whenever she pleases!” your governess snapped, slapping her cold cane on your tiny wrists. hot tears welled in the corners of your eyes. “princesses do not show weakness, either,” she huffed and shakes her head at the sight of you as if you were some reckless, hair-brained animal. the memories of your early schooling were rarely pleasant ones. any and all curiosity you had was intended to be stomped out, replaced with knowledge about ballroom dance, fashion history, etiquette. these were the makings of a good, silent wife in the future, best for political marriage union. however, you were not an easy soul to shatter. if anything, the treatment encouraged you tenfold.

you come to a halt at a fully bloomed gardenia bush, dropping your head to inhale the spicy aroma. ironic. its alabaster skin symbolized purity, innocence, refinery— but smelled like pure freedom and rebellion to you. a smile graces your pristine face, head tilted to give your knight a cheeky side eye.

“alright then kento, let us see to what father dearest requires of me.”

when you reach the king’s gentleman’s room, your father stands with two men you hadn’t seen before. one looked older than your father and the other rather youthful. platinum white hair caught your attention first, but were soon replace with his unusual eyes. they were the sharpest arctic blue you’ve ever seen in your life. they felt.. cold. unwelcome. you notice kento settle at the corner of the room to stand guard out of the corner of your eye, a silent spectator.

“ah! come come, daughter. meet his royal highness king masako gojo and his son, prince satoru gojo.”

your face blanches. sharp ringing infiltrating your ears and you couldn’t grasp anything anymore. you knew what was occurring in this very moment.

like clockwork, you curtsy and bow to both nobles. the older king simpers, nodding in approval. “a quiet and obedient one. this alliance will go swimmingly,” he chortles and slaps the prince’s back, giving a whisper you didn’t miss. “easier when they don’t speak, eh?” his joke falls flat as the young man seemed heavily disinterested in taking part in his father’s misogynistic capers.

kento’s jaw ticks, the grip on his sword handle tightening as he fought back the urge to beat the old man to a pulp.

the words didn’t miss your hearing. nose held high, you flash an icy smile and clasp your hands together to keep from slapping the ever-loving sense out of the greasy monarch yourself.

“quite the contrary, your highness. i just don’t interest myself in speaking to puny-minded individuals.”

a low chuckle was quickly masked with a couple coughs from the prince, while king masako’s face sported a blotchy red out of anger and embarrassment.

you father’s eyes flashed with harsh warning at you. your antics were borderline detonating and were no longer found trivial and silly by him. this was the future of the nation at stake, alongside securing your prosperity. he plasters a nervous smile on his face and continues despite your outward rudeness.

“i deeply apologize for my daughter’s behavior- she simply has a sharp tongue. dearest, you are to acquaintance yourself with the prince the next three months for it has been decided you shall marry to bring our kingdoms together in harmony. you should treat them with the utmost respect.” you scoff. how grand of your own kin taking the outsider’s side rather than defend your honor. the anger within you boils. “and when was this decided?” you say with a raised brow. your father looks a little exasperated.

king masako grins his greasy smile once more and steps forward to meet your eye, looking down on you. “didn’t you know? this has been arranged since your birth.. and my son’s.”

your blood runs cold. you knew that you were to be wed and that it was your purpose as this country’s princess, but to know you were just a prize pig? your whole life? and not a soul told you that you were promised from the beginning. you feel your mother’s absence in your childhood, your father’s transactional love. all pieces to the puzzle that finally clicked for you— you’re just a pawn.

you slam your palms on the oak table. “i am not getting married unless it is my will to do so,” you seethe at the men. prince’s lips quirk up at your boldness. how curious.

kento brows scrunch in concern as to how this will play out for you. you father doesn’t mask his rage this time around. “who said anyone will abide your will? you forget your place,” he shouts at you like you’re an insolent child. “no, YOU forget that i am crown princess of this nation and i can very well be the reason it burns to the ground!” you scream back with equal fervor. “you undeserving wench! get out of my sight. get out!!” your father’s voice shakes with intensity and angry tears threaten to spill but you refuse to let them see you weak.

kento’s resolve wavers when he hears the nasty insult come from the king’s mouth. you, a wench? he hasn’t known his daughter a day in his life. kento, however, spent nearly every waking moment observing you, protecting you. he knew your mannerism and habits, what you wore and what you liked or disliked. he knew you liked reading history books and devouring sweet peach tarts. he knew your allergies kicked up when your room was freshly cleaned. he knew you dreamed and raved about wanting more than the closed life you lived, to travel and see the world, and then maybe, just maybe, settle into a small cottage farm with a garden you curated for yourself. more than anything, he knew you were the farthest thing from a wench. what a wretched word. he wanted to demand your father apologize, but that would be a most highest treason to oppose the king in such a manner. especially as a ranked personal knight. he holds back for your sake.

your head snaps to the prince. “i would rather die before the chance you and i shall wed,” you spit at him before you march out of the room, kento in tow. as kento exits, you slam the crested door with finality. your heels carry you before you realize it and you’re running down the halls, dress flowing and eyes blurry. maids walking by look at you and whisper, a butler trying to stop you and ask if you are alright but you brush by, his efforts in vain. once you reach your room, kento begins to follow and you stop him, looking up with shiny eyes. “please leave me be, kento,” you whisper, tears trickling down silently.

kento feels his heart squeeze painfully at the sight. he hated seeing you upset. it would take the most evil person in world to reduce you to such anguish and your father was just that. he wanted to comfort you, to selfishly hold you close and whisper sweet nothings to you as you cried your heart out. but he knew that that was his guilty want, and you wished to feel through this pain by yourself. hesitantly, he nods and steps back. you close the door and immediately crumple to the floor, your body wracked with sobs. you felt so alone and insignificant.

in this moment, kento could do nothing but helplessly listen to you.

you eventually cried yourself to tiredness. you fell asleep with dried tears stained on your cheeks, draped over your footboard bench in an odd angle. kento had turned away all servants at your door, but took a plate of tarts and water on a tray. he waited for the halls to empty, the night soon befalling.

he quietly opened your door with tray in hand, walking in as stealthy as he usually carries himself. the moonlight shone from the large windows of your balcony onto your slumped figure. you looked positively ethereal. the remnants of your grief didn’t hinder your natural beauty. kento felt dirty to admit you almost looked beautiful with tears painted on your glass skin. he brushed the thoughts from his mind and set the tray down on your table.

he wasn’t allowed to be in your quarters at this distance but he couldn’t bear not making sure you were alright. a breeze from the open windows blows in gently and he catches you shiver. he thinks for a moment and eventually decides to just do it — he carefully picks you up from the floor to put you snugly in to your bed. this action causes you to awake slightly. you stir, rubbing your eyes. kento looks down at you in his arms in surprise. you looked like a soft pretty lamb, he thought.

“kento..? where.. where am i?” he walks around the bed to lay you down carefully, standing beside you. “your room, princess. you came in yourself, remember?” the memories of the day flooded back to touch and your expression turns grim. “ah.. yes. i’m so sorry you had to come in and take care of me.” kento shakes his hand dismissing your worry. “nonsense. this is my duty as your protector.” you offer a small smile despite your low feelings. “it is greatly appreciated.”

silence falls between the two of you. kento is looking at you with deep thought- he’s trying to formulate his message in a way that wouldn’t be overstepping of him, but—

“i want to run away.”

“what?!”

i'm so sorry if this feels abrupt :( since this is going to be three parts i had to split it at equal lengths in events </3 but!! do not fret!!! the next two will be up shortly to make up for it ;) peace luv bathtub!

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raincitygirl76 · 1 year ago

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And great tags from @crownedwille including the fact that Kristina was probably rebellious once herself. She and Wilhelm seem to be very similar in their temperaments.

What we saw of Erik was that he was a “don’t rock the boat”, “let’s compromise so there’s no awkwardness” type like their dad Ludvig. Whereas Kristina and her younger son are both headstrong and determined.

I suspect the family dynamic prior to Erik’s death was Kristina and Wilhelm frequently butting heads, because they both have strong opinions, and Ludvig and Erik smoothing over their arguments. Pouring diplomatic oil on troubled waters because Erik and Ludvig are conflict-avoidant and want a quiet life.

Kristina is essentially who Wilhelm will be in thirty years or so if he lets the crushing weight of the royal court and the general public’s demands take over his life. Kristina has drunk the koolaid that preserving traditions and preserving the image of the monarchy are the sacred purpose of her entire life.

Wille hasn’t yet drunk that koolaid, although he tried hard to be the perfect Crown Prince in S1 by doing the lying media statement in 1.06, which led to him getting dumped by his boyfriend. But he had a lot of character growth in S2. After the jubilee speech in 2.06, I suspect Wille’s parents, the royal court, and the upper classes will have trouble trying to shove him back in the closet. Or drink the koolaid and truly believe, as his mom does, that tradition and secrecy are objectively good things.

YOUNG ROYALS S01E06 - “Episode 6″

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thebunnednun · 3 months ago

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Build a Boyfriend 🧸🩷

Pairing: Pro Hero! Mirio Togata x Build a Bear helper! Reader

Summary: Mirio takes Eri to Build a Bear and falls for the pastel goth helping Eri pick out a new cuddle buddy. After some intervention from the guys he stumbles into her registrar to find she's even prettier up close and thinks he missed his chance with her.

Until he finds her note.....

TW: Cuteness overload

On with the show!!~

The workshop was buzzing with the low hum of families, children, and the occasional burst of laughter as small hands sifted through shelves of soft, plush animals. The inside of the store was a bright kaleidoscope of colors—soft pastels, warm yellows, and gentle blues—all blending together to create a welcoming, cheerful environment.

Display stands were stacked with teddy bears, bunnies, and a whole host of other creatures waiting to be brought to life by eager kids.

At the heart of it all, the sound of stuffing machines whirring and squeaking filled the air, punctuated by the chatter of customers and employees. Soft pop music played overhead, further adding to the lively yet calming atmosphere.

A few young children were gathered near the sound booth, picking out voice boxes with silly phrases to stuff inside their soon-to-be cuddly companions. Others ran up and down the aisles with parents trailing behind, trying to keep up.

Mirio stood at the front of the store with Eri, his hand gently resting on her head as she stared wide-eyed at the rows upon rows of plush animals. Her large, curious red eyes scanned the store with wonder, her small hands clutching the hem of her dress, shifting slightly as she took in the world of soft toys around her. Mirio, ever the doting older brother figure, smiled down at her, eyes sparkling with excitement for her.

It was sensory overload for her, truely. And while he felt bad about it, Mirio would rather Eri get the full experience of picking out her snuggle buddy than choosing it fo herr. He wanted this to be a gentle push into feeling more secure and independent for Eri.

Plus, he just wanted to spoil her.

“Alright, Eri, feel free to look around, okay?” Mirio said brightly, crouching down to meet her gaze, his grin wide and reassuring. “I just need to pop to the restroom for a sec. But don’t worry—Shinsou’s on his way, and I’ll be right back.”

Eri nodded shyly, her gaze shifting from Mirio to the endless selection of stuffed animals. He gave her a gentle pat on the head before standing up and sending a quick text to Shinsou, letting him know where they were. After giving Eri another smile and checking the time, Mirio quickly made his way toward the back of the store, disappearing into the hallway.

Eri, now left to her own devices, wandered through the aisles slowly. She kept her hands close to herself, unsure if it was okay to touch anything. She passed by shelves filled with fluffy bunnies, tiny bears with sailor hats, and even some superhero-themed plush toys, her steps hesitant and light.

Meanwhile, you were working the floor, wearing your red apron over a pastel goth outfit that contrasted sharply yet charmingly with the colorful ambiance of the store.

Your black, ripped jeans paired with the soft lavender of your belt, along with streaks of pastel blue and royal purple in your hair, stood out against the otherwise bubblegum, playful environment. Your outfit was a perfect blend of soft and edgy, a subtle rebellion that felt at home in a store that encouraged creativity and individuality.

As you helped another customer pick out accessories for their bear, you spotted Eri, her small form almost lost among the towering shelves. She seemed unsure of where to go or what to do, her wide eyes darting from shelf to shelf as if searching for something familiar.

“Hey there,” you greeted softly, approaching her slowly so as not to startle her. You crouched down a bit to her level, keeping a respectful distance.

“Are you looking for someone special today?”

Eri blinked up at you, her eyes a little wary but not frightened. She nodded, pointing toward the top shelf where a fluffy white bear sat. It was out of her reach, and you could tell she didn’t want to ask for help outright.

You smiled warmly, standing up and walking over to a nearby ladder. “Let me grab something real quick, and then you can do the honors.”

After propping the ladder in place, you climbed up to grab a toy "grabber" from a top shelf—a long plastic tool that could be used to reach high items. You offered it to her, the soft click of the mechanism echoing slightly as you showed her how to use it.

“Here, why don’t you give it a try? You can get the bear all by yourself,” you said, handing her the grabber with a gentle smile.

Eri hesitated for a moment, her fingers twitching nervously around the grabber’s handle. But after a moment, her determination kicked in. She extended the tool toward the bear, eyes focused in concentration as she squeezed the handle and caught the plush animal.

With a small, triumphant smile, Eri pulled the bear down, holding it carefully in her arms as though it were fragile. You gave her a little cheer, nodding in approval.

“Great job! That’s a cute one,” you said softly, watching as she hugged the bear close to her chest, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Do you want to make it extra special? I can help you with the heart ceremony.”

Eri looked up at you, curiosity filling her eyes. She nodded, and you led her to the heart ceremony station, where the soft plush hearts were kept. You gently explained the steps, making sure to give her the space to do everything herself, guiding her through the motions.

“Rub your heart in your hands for warmth,” you said with a kind smile, mimicking the action with your own plush heart. Eri followed suit, her small hands rubbing the heart together.

“Pat your heart for your friend's heartbeat forever, rub them on your head for smart thoughts, and rub them on each other so they know you're best friends.”

As you continued through the ceremony, Eri became more engaged, a light giggle escaping her lips as she touched the heart to her elbow when you added with a playful grin, “And don’t forget to tap your elbow so your new friend will always be funny!”

Eri’s eyes lit up with the little details, and she smiled brightly as she hugged the heart to her chest before placing it inside her new bear.

Behind her, in the shadow of the store’s entrance, Mirio watched quietly, a warm smile creeping across his face. He hadn’t expected to see Eri so at ease, especially in a new place. The way you respected her space, never crowding or overwhelming her, made his chest swell with gratitude. He was about to step forward when he felt a familiar presence behind him.

“What’re you staring at?” Shinsou’s voice broke the moment as he approached, giving Mirio a teasing look.

Mirio turned with a grin, his blue eyes bright as he spotted Shinsou approaching. Shinsou, dressed in his usual casual wear—a dark hoodie and jeans—stood out among the bright colors and vibrant energy of the workshop. His messy purple hair framed his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets, watching Mirio with a raised brow.

“Just watching Eri have a good time,” Mirio replied, motioning toward the heart ceremony station. Shinsou’s eyes followed, his expression softening slightly when he saw the little girl happily finishing up the ceremony with her new plush bear. She was beaming now, her earlier hesitancy gone, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and joy.

“Looks like she’s having a good time,” Shinsou muttered, his tone more affectionate than usual. He had grown attached to Eri in his own quiet way, often showing up to hang out with her when he could.

He wasn’t the type to get openly sentimental, but moments like this made him feel lighter.

Mirio clapped a hand on Shinsou’s shoulder, his grin widening. “Thanks for coming, by the way. I know it’s not your scene, but Eri likes having you around.”

Shinsou shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well you know I can’t say no to her.”

As they stood there, watching Eri carefully adjust her bear’s fur you approached with a gentle smile. Spotting Mirio and Shinsou near the entrance, she gave them a nod of acknowledgment before turning her attention back to you.

“Does your bear have a name yet?” you asked softly, crouching down again to meet Eri’s eye level. She looked up at you with that same small smile, thinking for a moment as she hugged her bear tighter.

“Yes,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, but there was a sense of pride in her choice. Mirio watches with some confusion as Eri whispers it to you.

“That’s a perfect name,” you said with a warm chuckle, standing up and adjusting your apron as you prepared to ring her up. “Let’s get him all set up, then.”

Eri followed you toward the shelves with outfits, clutching Lemi in her arms as she gazed around the store one last time. You noticed how she kept glancing toward Shinsou and Mirio as if checking to make sure they hadn’t disappeared. They both gave her a reassuring wave from across the store, and she visibly relaxed, her steps becoming more confident.

You glanced up from the shelves, your eyes briefly meeting Mirio’s. He stood near the entrance, staring at you a little longer than necessary, his broad shoulders outlined by the glow of the afternoon sun. He had that goofy grin, the one that lit up his entire face, but there was something more behind it, a quiet admiration in his gaze.

Just as you return to checking on Eri, a figure sidled up beside Mirio. Shinsou, with his shit eating grin, elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

“You’ve been staring at her for five minutes, man,” Shinsou teased in his usual deadpan tone. “Why don’t you just go over there and say something?”

Mirio blinked rapidly, his grin faltering for the briefest moment as his face flushed a deep pink. “W-What? No, I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, right,” Shinsou cut in, rolling his eyes. “I could practically hear your heart pounding from across the room.” He gave Mirio a little push toward you and Eri, who was carefully adjusting the tiny outfit on her new bear, completely oblivious to the commotion behind her.

“Go on, big guy. She’s right there.”

Mirio stumbled forward, awkwardly regaining his footing with a sheepish laugh. His usual confidence was nowhere to be found as he approached, Shinsou trailing behind him with a lazy, amused stride.

You stepped in front of Eri protectively the moment you saw the two boys approaching. Instinctively, you put yourself between her and the newcomers, your body tense as you sized them up, ready for anything. But before you could say a word, Eri’s face lit up at the sight of her two of her favorite boys.

“Mirio! Shinsou!” she squealed, her eyes bright with excitement. She hopped up and down on the spot, holding her newly made bear in front of her like a prized possession.

The tension in your shoulders eased slightly, but you stayed close to Eri, watching the interaction carefully. Mirio’s flustered expression softened as he knelt down to Eri’s level, his smile warm and familiar again.

“Hey Eri! Who’s this?” he asked, motioning toward the bear in her arms.

Eri beamed, a little confused, and pointed up at you. “She’s my new friend.”

Mirio leaned in, squinting at you with a faux-serious expression. “New friend, huh? Looks like a tough one,” he said, his voice light. You huff and laugh before he stuff his hands in his back pockets and rocks before he then pokes the bear gently and then adds with a sincere tone, “You’re so cool, Eri!”

Eri giggled, hugging the bear closer and you nod, “She is!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene, the warmth of it spreading through you. Eri seemed so comfortable with him, like a big brother and his quiet, teasing friend.

“So,” you began, looking between the three of them, “is this your brother?” you asked, gesturing toward Mirio, though you couldn’t quite keep the teasing edge out of your voice.

Mirio laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, no, not exactly. But I do look after her,” he explained, his eyes softening as he glanced at Eri. “She’s special to us.”

You nodded, your heart warming at his response. “That’s sweet. You seem to care about her a lot.” Just as you were about to hand Eri back over to Mirio, the workshop’s door swung open once again.

The air in the room shifted as a tall, scruffy figure walked in, wearing his signature black scarf draped loosely around his shoulders.

Aizawa, with his ever-tired eyes and a slight slouch in his posture, made his way toward the group, his wallet already in hand. His gaze flickered between you and Eri, who immediately perked up at the sight of him.

“Dad!” Eri called out, her small voice carrying across the room.

Aizawa’s tired expression softened at her excitement, and he gave a small nod before turning his attention to you. “I see you’ve made a friend,” he said, his voice low but not unkind. He held up his hero license for your reassurance. “I’m her guardian.”

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks flushing as you realized your earlier assumption. “Great, these guys are nice but I couldn’t release her to them without a parents' permission,” you stammered, bowing your head slightly. “I just wanted to make sure she was with someone safe.”

Aizawa’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. “No need to apologize. You did the right thing by being cautious. I appreciate how well you’ve treated her.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a sense of relief washing over you. Eri, still clutching the golden teddy bear, grinned up at Aizawa, clearly happy to see him. Mirio, ever the optimist, gave a thumbs-up toward you.

“See? You’re great with her,” he said, his usual enthusiasm returning.

Aizawa ruffled Eri’s hair gently, glancing over at you once more. “Thanks for helping her. She doesn’t trust people easily, but she seems to like you.”

Eri nodded vigorously, hugging the golden bear tighter. “I do!”

You could have been knocked over with a feather with how happy you felt making that little girl smile and help her create a core memory.

The moment settled into a quiet comfort, the soft hum of the workshop around you, as Aizawa stood by Eri’s side, and you felt a quiet sense of connection with the little girl.

She has a good family here, no doubt about it.

You chuckled softly to yourself as you grabbed the small wooden step stool tucked near the counter. With a fluid motion, you brought it over to Eri, who eagerly clambered up onto it. Her tiny hands reached up toward the counter and placed her new bear, who sat proudly.

The excitement in her eyes was contagious as she carefully took in the action of you scanning the bear and filling in the information Aizawa gave you into the database before sliding her friend back into her hand, giving the bear a quick once-over as if to make sure nothing was out of place.

“Look! Isn’t he cute?” Eri beamed, holding the new playmate out for Aizawa and Mirio to inspect. Mirio, still a bit flustered from earlier, managed to nod, though words seemed to escape him. Shinsou, as usual, wasn’t going to let that slide.

“Come on, big guy, she’s waiting for some praise,” Shinsou said with a raised brow, nudging Mirio with his elbow.

Mirio blinked, looking between Eri and the bear as if his brain had short-circuited.

“Y-Yeah! She’s adorable!” he finally managed to say, his voice a little too loud in his eagerness.

You smiled at the scene, turning back to Eri. “Alright, let’s fill out these ‘adoption papers’ for him, okay?” You handed Eri a small form—a fun, simple sheet for her to fill out with her little buddies name, favorite activities, and promise to care for her new friend.

Eri took the sparkle pom pom pen with a determined nod, sitting cross-legged on the stool as she began writing carefully.

As Eri focused, her soft voice floated up toward you. “Just like with me!” she said brightly, her small hand gripping the pen a little tighter.

The words sent a wave of silence through the room. It was as if time itself froze. Mirio, Shinsou, and Aizawa all exchanged looks, the weight of her innocent statement hanging in the air. The unspoken gravity of her situation, how she was adopted by Aizawa after everything she had been through, washed over the group.

You, on the other hand, had pieced it together when you saw the two walk in and seen how nervous Eri seemed with touch. Hence why you offered her some alternative instead of being more hands on like your coworkers.

For a moment, the noise of the workshop dimmed, replaced with a quiet reverence of her writing.

Before anyone could respond, the door burst open, and Izuku came stumbling in, dripping wet, his breath ragged and his wild hair sticking to his forehead. It was immediately clear what had happened—he’d just been thrown into the fountain outside.

Again.

“I-I’m okay!” he wheezed, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Eri’s solemn face broke into pure delight at the sight of him.

“Izuku!” she cheered, waving enthusiastically, her spirits immediately lifted. She proudly signed the adoption papers with a flourish before handing them to you.

You smiled warmly, taking the papers from her and carefully boxing up the teddy bear. “Alright, your new friend is all set,” you said, handing Eri the box, which she clutched to her chest protectively.

Before anyone could fully relax, Monoma and Bakugou came charging into the room, both out of breath and clearly mid-argument.

Monoma was the first to speak, of course. “Just so you know, he—” he pointed dramatically at Bakugou “—backhanded Izuku into the fountain.”

Katsuki snarled, glaring daggers at Monoma. “Tch, for once it was an accident! I was trying to punch you.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?” Monoma scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Would my fist up your ass make it better?” Bakugou barked, clenching his fists as the two squared off, their bickering quickly escalating.

Aizawa sighed deeply, massaging his temples. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath before excusing himself from the registrar desk. He stepped between the two boys, his exhaustion palpable.

“Enough,” he said flatly, voice laced with authority, but it didn’t stop them from grumbling at each other.

Shinsou, watching with a smirk, took this as his cue. He gave Mirio a subtle nudge forward, his hands resting casually behind his back as if he hadn’t just shoved the older boy in your direction. Mirio, unsteady and blushing all over again, stumbled toward you, barely managing to stay upright.

“Guess you’re up,” Shinsou said with a sly, Cheshire grin before trailing after Aizawa, clearly entertained by the chaos.

You raised an eyebrow at Mirio, who now stood awkwardly in front of you, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. His usual confidence had all but evaporated, leaving him standing there, fidgeting under your gaze.

You continued packing up a few more supplies, carefully organizing the boxes behind the counter. The soft rustling of tissue paper filled the air as you folded up some final pieces of merchandise, stacking them neatly. Mirio, still trying to recover from Shinsou's teasing, stumbled up toward you, his large frame knocking gently into the edge of the registrar desk.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” he blurted, immediately looking down at you with an apologetic smile.

You glanced up, amused by his flustered state. “No sweat. Nothing's broken, so we’re all good.”

You waved off his apology with a casual grin before returning to your packing, carefully organizing the boxes behind the counter. The soft rustling of tissue paper filled the air as you folded up some final pieces of merchandise, stacking them neatly.

“So,” you began, trying to ease the tension with a playful smirk, “is getting pushed around by 'Shinsou' part of the usual dynamic, or is this a special occasion?”

Mirio laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, I think he’s just having fun at my expense today,” he admitted sheepishly, his smile returning, albeit a bit more bashful than before.

Eri, meanwhile, had taken the opportunity to step up beside you, clutching her newly boxed bear and watching you curiously. She tilted her head, her brows furrowing as she observed both you and Shinsou in the distance.

“Are you… emo? Like Shinsou?”

Mirio tensed beside you, his eyes going wide at the question. He shot you a nervous glance, as if expecting you to be offended. But instead, a laugh bubbled up from your chest, light and genuine, filling the space between you all.

“Emo? Nah, not quite,” you said, still chuckling. You ruffled Eri's hair lightly with the pen before pointing to the purple and blue streaks running through your own. “But I get why you might think that. I’m actually a pastel goth.”

Eri's face lit up with curiosity, her eyes widening as you untied your apron and did a playful little spin in front of her. “See?” You gestured to your outfit—ripped black jeans, a pretty lace pastel top in your favorite shade, and the rainbow chains that connected from your belt to your pockets that added a splash of color to your otherwise dark base palette.

“And these are my favorite!” You lifted one foot to show her your dip-dyed tennis shoes, a soft gradient of pastel shades fading into the white canvas. “I made these myself.”

Eri’s mouth formed a perfect “O” of awe, her small hands reaching out as if to touch your shoes. “Wow! How did you do that? They’re so pretty!”

You crouched down to her level, smiling as you explained the process. “Thank you, sweetie! It’s called tie-dye. You take plain shoes or clothes, tie them in different spots, and then dip them in different colors of dye. You can get all kinds of patterns that way! Want me to show you?”

Eri nodded enthusiastically, already imagining the possibilities.

Throughout the exchange, you didn’t notice the way Mirio was watching you. His eyes followed your every movement—how you spun effortlessly, the way you smiled so warmly at Eri, how you explained things with ease. His heart raced in his chest, he gulped, trying to shake off the strange, intense nervousness crawling up his spine.

Mirio couldn't understand why it suddenly felt so hard to breathe, why his palms were sweating. Every time he tried to speak, his mouth dried up even more, like a dessert made out of sandpaper topped with crunchy peanut butter.

He desperately wanted to look away, but his gaze was drawn to you, like a magnet pulling him in despite his mind screaming at him to just fade into the wall and disappear.

Still, Mirio couldn't help but stay, silently rooting himself to the spot, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding in front of him. The way you connected with Eri, the easy laughter between you—it was like a warmth that had settled into the room, and though it made him flustered, he didn't want to leave.

You were still kneeling, explaining the basics of tie-dye with a smile, using your phone to show her how she could create something similar. Mirio stood stiffly, watching you with wide eyes, and though he was usually the picture of calm confidence, today was different.

His nerves kicking up in full force.

He wanted to speak, maybe even add something to the conversation, but his brain couldn’t form the words. It was as if the more he watched you interacting with Eri, the more his thoughts and nerves tangled themselves into sweaty knots.

Still, you kept the conversation flowing naturally, completely unaware of the inner turmoil Mirio was going through.

"It’s all about experimenting and having fun with colors,” you said, showing Eri how different patterns could form.

Eri nodded eagerly, fascinated by every word, while Mirio stood beside you, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt like a deer in headlights, but every time you smiled or laughed, it felt like someone turned the temperature in the room up a few degrees.

Mirio blinked, snapping back to reality just in time to notice Shinsou staring at him from outside the store.

Shinsou’s eyes held a mischievous glint, as he subtly gestured toward you with a small nod of his head. Mirio followed the motion, his mind catching up with the situation. His heart skipped when he realized Shinsou was egging him on, pushing him toward you in a way that was just as playful as it was serious.

Behind Shinsou, Fatgum and Kirishima were rolling up to join the growing group, both exchanging easy grins. Fatgum seemed relaxed, his large frame towering over the others, eating some mall pretzels, while Kirishima waved enthusiastically, clearly trying to disarm the chaos that was unfolding.

Meanwhile, Aizawa stood a little farther off, arms crossed, his usual weary expression in place as he muttered something to himself.

“Herding cats is easier than dealing with them,” Aizawa complained under his breath, side-eyeing Bakugou and Monoma, who were still bickering like two kids fighting over sub vs dub anime.

Izuku was caught in the middle trying to remedy the situation, still damp, as Monoma had his hands up in a dramatic display of innocence, while Bakugou looked like he was one second away from cold blooded murder.

Tamaki, ever the quiet one, had appeared in the background, looking completely lost in the flurry of activity. His wide, nervous eyes darted between his friends, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

But when Shinsou leaned in and whispered something in his ear, a faint blush immediately crept up Tamaki's neck, turning his face a deep shade of red. He turned and gave Mirio a hesitant but determined “game face,” his sharp, elfin ears twitching slightly as he forced himself to give a thumbs-up of encouragement.

Mirio’s heart warmed at Tamaki’s attempt to cheer him on. A bright smile broke out on his face, a silent thank you to his friend. With Tamaki’s confidence-boosting thumbs-up and Shinsou’s teasing still hanging in the air, Mirio’s determination grew. He squared his shoulders and turned back to face you, taking a steadying breath.

But when he looked at you again, he nearly forgot how to breathe entirely.

Eri had somehow found her way into your arms, comfortably perched on your hip. Her small fingers were gently poking at your ear piercings, her wide, innocent eyes full of fascination as you let her touch the little hoops and studs. You were watching Mirio now, meeting his gaze with a calm smile that made something inside him turn to mush.

'Fuck.'

It was like all the noise in the background—the bickering between Bakugou and Monoma, the faint grumbling from Aizawa, even the shuffling footsteps of students in the distance—faded into nothing.

“Uh…” Mirio started, trying to find his voice, but his throat felt impossibly dry again.

“Are they gonna be okay?” You nodded slightly toward the commotion behind him, where Bakugou’s voice had risen several notches as he squared off with Monoma.

Just as you asked, both Bakugou and Monoma shouted something unintelligible, their voices overlapping in a chaotic burst of sound. You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but nodded as if nothing was amiss.

Mirio rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his fingers brushing against the short hairs at the nape as he grinned awkwardly.

“Yeah...they’ll be fine.” He tried to sound confident, but his mind was a mess of thoughts he couldn’t quite grasp. He noticed, more than ever, how close you were standing, with Eri resting in your arms like she belonged there, her small hands still occasionally fiddling with your piercings.

The way you cradled her so naturally made something stir inside him—a mix of admiration and awe.

His heart started pounding again, the way it had before, but this time it was louder, more insistent. He couldn’t stop himself from noticing the little details about you. The way the light in the room softened around your face, casting a gentle glow on your skin. The hint of colors in your hair, the soft purples and blues catching in the air like a breath of wind.

And that smile—warm, inviting, and effortlessly beautiful. It made him feel like he was standing in the middle of a sunlit field on a perfect summer’s day, the kind where everything was alive and vibrant, and you were the brightest thing in it.

You weren’t just pretty. No, pretty was too small of a word to describe how you made him feel. You are beautiful.

'Breathtaking.'

Not just because of how you looked but because of your whole aura. It was like you radiated this light, this quiet strength, that made people around you feel safe and welcome. It was in the way you held Eri so gently, like she was the most precious thing in the world, and the way you spoke with such ease, your words always soft yet full of warmth.

Mirio could swear he saw the rest of his life in your eyes at that moment. He imagined laughter, quiet moments, and endless afternoons spent in the kind of peace only you seemed to carry with you. It hit him like a wave—this overwhelming sense of admiration and something more, something deeper, that he wasn’t sure how to name yet.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him for a moment. “You okay there, Mirio?”

Your voice broke through his swirling thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Mirio’s cheeks flared with heat, and he quickly rubbed the back of his neck again, this time laughing a little too loudly.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good!” He forced out the words, his smile still bright, though a bit shaky. “Just... you know, keeping an eye on those two,” he added, motioning again toward the argument that was now simmering behind him.

Kirishima had dropped his bag of hair dye in favor of holding onto Bakugou’s middle, whose hands were crackling faintly, while Izuku stood in front of Monoma, bandaged arms spread as Monoma looked like he was enjoying talking shit way too much.

Aizawa was laying into them for doing this again in public as Shinsou was holding up Tamaki who looked like he wanted to pass away from the onlookers and Fatgum is trying to divert the attention while also handing out fliers to his favorite restaurant in the mall.

“Yeah, they totally have it under control.”

You glanced in their direction before looking back at him, your lips curving into a smile that sent his heart racing all over again. “Seems like you've got your hands full.” You poke Eri in her belly and she squeals before holding onto you again.

Mirio chuckled, nodding in agreement. “You have no idea.”

Just then, Eri tugged gently on your sleeve, drawing both your attention. “Can I see the shoes again?” she asked, her voice small but eager.

You smiled down at her, giving her a little nod. “Of course.” You shifted her in your arms and then lifted one of your feet, showing her the soft colors of your tie-dye shoes again. She giggled, reaching out to touch them, her fascination with the colors and patterns not yet fading.

And as Mirio watched the scene unfold—the way you moved so effortlessly with Eri in your arms, the soft way you spoke, the ease with which you brought light into the room—he couldn’t help but think,

‘Yeah, I’m a goner.’

Mirio blinked, his mind momentarily lost in the haze of his own thoughts as he watched you. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed until he noticed your lips moving, the soft curve of them drawing his attention. For a second, all he could focus on was the way they shaped each word, the gentle rhythm of your voice fading into the background.

He didn’t register what you were saying—just that you were talking to him.

Then, as if shaken from a dream, Mirio blipped in surprise, his eyes widening as he coughed awkwardly. “Oh! Sorry! I—uh, what were you saying?” His voice cracked a little, his embarrassment clear as he rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “I’m so sorry, I’m not sure what’s up with me today.”

You chuckled softly, a sound that made Mirio’s heart skip a beat. There was no judgment in your eyes, just warmth. “It’s okay,” you said, your tone teasing but kind. “Are you okay, though? You seem a little… distracted.”

He forced a smile, though his heart was still racing. “Yeah, I’m good now. Just—” Mirio stumbled over his words for a second before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “I think I just spaced out for a bit.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, clearly unconvinced but playful. “Well, as long as you're not running on empty or something.” You flashed him a smile, and Mirio couldn’t help but return it, feeling the tension ease a little.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm after that, making light conversation. You asked him how his day had been, and he asked you about yours. The small talk flowed effortlessly, and despite the occasional flustered moments on Mirio’s end, the interaction felt natural. You told him a funny story about one of your coworkers accidentally scanning a customer’s face instead of their item, and Mirio laughed, his usual cheerfulness slipping back into place.

He was starting to feel more like himself again, even as he struggled to keep his thoughts from wandering back to how much he liked your smile and how warm and good your voice is.

He could listen to you read the phone book for all he cares!

As Mirio lingered, his gaze darting between you and the door, he finally cleared his throat, summoning a bit of courage. "You know," he started, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar, nervous way, "you’re, uh… pretty good with Eri. I bet you could make a career out of making people feel special."

You laughed softly, raising an eyebrow as you leaned against the counter.

"Oh yeah? Does that include you?"

Mirio froze for a moment, his heart skipping a beat before he quickly stumbled over his words. "W-Well, I mean… you’re already good at that too." His cheeks flushed pink, and he tried to recover by flashing you one of his signature, bright smiles. "I guess I’m just lucky to be on the receiving end."

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned in a little. "Is that so? Mm, I’ll have to make sure to treat you extra special next time, then."

Mirio’s face heated up further, but he managed to chuckle nervously, scratching his head. "I, uh… I wouldn’t mind that."

Suddenly, a small voice piped up from below. Eri was tugging at Mirio’s sleeve with a sweet smile on her face.

"Are you two flirting?" she asked innocently, her eyes wide and curious.

Both of you blinked in surprise, exchanging a quick glance before bursting into laughter. You crouched down to Eri’s level, gently ruffling her hair.

"Maybe a little," you teased, glancing up at Mirio, whose face had turned a deep shade of red.

Mirio bent down too, his hand resting on Eri’s shoulder. "Just a little," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "You caught us." Eri giggled, clearly pleased with herself. "I like it. It makes you both smile."

You and Mirio shared a look again, warmth spreading between you as her innocent words sank in. Smiling, you reached out and gave Eri a playful poke on the nose. "Well, we’ll just have to keep smiling for you then, won’t we?"

Eri perks up at that and looks at you with something you can’t place. But she leans into your face to close her eyes and hug you tight. You return the hug, your cheek against the crown of her head and let your warmth radiate into her.

Mirio’s heart swelled at the sight, his smile soft and sincere. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice a little quieter now.

"We will."

Outside the store, the once-heated argument between Bakugou and Monoma was finally winding down. Their voices, which had been loud and chaotic earlier, were now quieter, only a few muttered grumbles echoing in the distance. Aizawa reappeared shortly after, looking more exasperated than before but clearly relieved that the chaos had subsided.

He approached the counter, tired eyes flicking over to Eri, who was still happily holding the box containing her new teddy bear. “You all set, kid?” he asked, his voice softening ever so slightly when addressing her.

Eri nodded eagerly, hugging the box tighter. “He’s ready to go home!” she declared with a big smile.

You smiled at the sight, already scanning the item at the register as Aizawa fished around in his pocket for his wallet. As you rang up the bear, your fingers discreetly punched in a few extra numbers on the keypad.

Mirio, standing just off to the side, happened to glance over and caught the brief flash of numbers. He furrowed his brows slightly, noticing that you’d keyed in what looked like a discount code. Before he could say anything, you turned to him with a wink and a sly smile, your lips curling at the corners in the most mischievous way.

You handed the bag you placed the packages in to Aizawa with a casual grace, as if nothing unusual had just happened. “Here you go,” you said, leaning down slightly so Eri could see the bag. “Take good care of him.”

Aizawa gave you a nod, his expression as unreadable as ever, though there was a slight glint of gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks,” he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. He turned to Eri. “Ready to go?”

Eri nodded enthusiastically, still cradling her new friend. But before they left, she looked up at you with wide eyes. “Thank you for helping me adopt him!” she chirped happily, her excitement contagious.

You smiled back, giving her a little wave. “Anytime, Eri. You and your new friend take care of each other, okay?” She nods and holds up the box to the frazzled group of boys before tugging Aizawa with her to go show them.

As Aizawa and Eri made their way out of the store, Mirio stood there for a second longer, watching the interaction with an odd mix of admiration and butterflies. You turned to him once more, your smile lingering, and for a brief moment, he swore the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“You like kids, huh?” Mirio finally asked, his voice light with amusement as he raised an eyebrow.

You gave him another wink, the same mischievous glint in your eyes. “What can I say? Perks of the job.”

“Mirio come on!”

“I’ll be right there!”

The blonde waves to you before racing out of the store (almost hitting his face in the glass doors too) before rejoining the group outside. The atmosphere was filled with a blend of excitement and warmth. Mirio stands off to the side, watching you as you got back to work, expertly tying your apron into a neat bow around your waist, your fingers deftly maneuvering the fabric.

There was a lightness in the air, a hint of magic lingering in the moment, and he couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Eri’s excitement.

“Hey, how did it go?” Shinsou nudged him playfully, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Mirio chuckled, scratching the back of his head, his cheeks a little pink. “Oh, you know, just normal stuff,” he replied, trying to play it cool despite the butterflies dancing in his stomach.

The boys—Izuku, Kirishima, Monoma, Bakugou, Tamaki, and Fatgum—quickly gathered around, their curiosity piqued. “Did Eri get her new friend?” Izuku asked eagerly, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Eri piped up, bouncing on her toes. “I did! His name is Lemi!” she declared proudly, clutching the plush bear to her chest. Mirio felt a rush of emotion at the name; it felt personal, like a little piece of her heart wrapped in the soft fabric.

“Lemi? That’s adorable!” Kirishima exclaimed, leaning closer to get a better look. But then Eri faltered, her expression shifting as she realized she hadn’t dressed him yet.

Just then, Aizawa approached, his expression mildly bemused. “You can come back another day to dress him,” he said, and Mirio, without thinking, immediately volunteered, “I’ll take her!”

Eri’s face lit up, and she eagerly opened the box for everyone to see, her excitement palpable. “Look!” she exclaimed, revealing Lemi nestled among other items.

Bakugou, who had been watching with a critical eye, leaned in. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, crossing his arms with a hint of suspicion.

Aizawa paused, confusion flickering across his face before he reached into the bag and pulled out what looked like a small collection of outfits. The group gathered closer as he spread the items out on a nearby table in the food court, their eyes widening in amazement.

“Are those…?” Kirishima began, his voice trailing off as they all realized the outfits were mini versions of their hero costumes.

Mirio felt his heart swell with pride and warmth. He glanced at Eri, who was practically glowing with joy, her eyes shining like stars. When she spotted Mirio’s hero costume tucked inside, she squealed in delight.

“Look! It’s just like yours!”

With an infectious smile, she hugged him tightly, and in that moment, Lemi echoed a familiar phrase: “You’re so cool!” Her joyous squeak made everyone burst into laughter, and as she dropped the bear in surprise, Bakugou lunged forward, catching it just in time.

“Careful!” Bakugou grunted, a mix of irritation and fondness in his voice. The group shared a knowing look, the camaraderie palpable.

Izuku gently took the bear from Bakugou and squeezed its tummy. “Wow, it talks!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement. Lemi chimed in again, this time explaining that the voice must have come with the bear.

Mirio’s heart raced as he pieced it all together, realizing you must have been the one holding the voice box when he first approached Eri. A warm smile spread across his face at the thought of you crafting this magical experience for her.

Just then, Aizawa pulled out a note from his pocket and handed it to Mirio. There was a hint of a smile on his usually stoic face. “This is for you,” he said, his tone teasing yet encouraging.

Mirio took the note, his breath hitching slightly as he swore he could feel the warmth from your fingertips had left for him.

As the teasing continued, Mirio felt a wave of nervousness wash over him, the excitement now mixed with anxiety. The note felt heavier in his hands, and he was unsure how to handle the sudden attention. With a quick glance at Tamaki, he decided to pass the note to him instead, hoping his friend might read it without the weight of all their curious eyes on him.

Tamaki accepted the note with a shaky hand, his face a mix of confusion and surprise. He cleared his throat softly before unfolding it, his cheeks already turning a deep shade of red. As he read, the whispers and laughter around them faded, all eyes drawn to him.

Mirio watched anxiously as Tamaki’s eyes widened, a hint of disbelief crossing his features. “U-um…” he stammered, before glancing back at Mirio, his voice barely above a whisper. “S-Sorry,” he managed to say, quickly handing the note back with a beet-red face.

“What does it say?” Izuku urged, leaning in closer, curiosity shining in his eyes.

Tamaki, flustered, mumbled, “It’s… um… really nice.”

Mirio took the note back, heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath and began to read aloud:

“Hey! :D Mirio, right? Thanks for being so wonderful today! I really enjoyed spending time with you and Eri. You’ve got a really cute smile! If you’re not seeing anyone, let's hang out soon! If you ever want to chat or need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’d love to hook Lemi up again. ;3

Looking forward to seeing you and your Eri<33! — Your local Pastel Goth

x-678-999-8212

It was a simple thank you, but at the bottom, your number was scrawled neatly, making his heart leap.

Eri watched him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “What does it say?” she asked, her tiny voice full of curiosity.

“It’s a note from the lady,” he said, unable to hide the grin on his face. “She said we can plan more fun days together.”

The boys exchanged glances, a mix of surprise and teasing delight washing over their expressions. Eri squealed with excitement, her little hands clapping. “She thinks you’re wonderful!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“Look at Mirio, all blushing!” Monoma laughed, while Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smirk.

Mirio’s heart raced, warmth creeping into his cheeks as he tried to play it cool. “It’s just a note,” he stammered, but the grin on his face betrayed his feigned nonchalance.

“Just a note? Dude, that’s definitely more than just a note!” Kirishima chimed in, clapping him on the back with enthusiasm.

Tamaki, still blushing, looked down at his feet, mumbling, “I-I think she likes you…”

As the teasing continued, Mirio couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness blooming inside him. The nervousness ebbed away, replaced by excitement at the thought of seeing you again. Eri’s bubbly enthusiasm and the camaraderie of his friends made it all feel so much brighter, like everything was finally falling into place.

Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “You’re such a dork,” he teased, earning a playful shove from Kirishima.

Fatgum chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You boys better watch out. Mirio’s got a secret weapon now,” he said, gesturing to the note with a grin.

As the playful banter continued, Mirio felt a swell of happiness. The bond he was forming with you, Eri, and the rest of the group felt like a bright beacon in his life. He couldn’t wait for the next mall adventure, knowing that you would be a part of it.

“Let’s get home before your classmates burn the dorms down.”

🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊

As the day wound down and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the window of Aizawa’s living room, Mirio found a cozy spot on the couch with Eri nestled against him. The warmth of the moment wrapped around them like a comforting blanket, Eri’s small fingers clutching the note you’d written, her eyelids growing heavy as sleep threatened to claim her.

Mirio, still buzzing from the day’s events, felt the soft rhythm of Eri’s breath against him, her little body rising and falling in a peaceful slumber. He couldn’t help but smile, his heart swelling with affection for the girl who had quickly become so dear to him. The note rested on his chest, a tangible reminder of you and the promise of more moments to come.

Just then, Shinsou, lounging nearby, couldn’t resist the urge to capture the scene. He quietly pulled out his phone, careful not to disturb the tranquil atmosphere. The sight of Mirio, looking blissfully content with Eri curled up beside him, was too precious to pass up. With a mischievous grin, he snapped a quick picture, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his face for just a moment.

“Adorable,” Shinsou whispered to himself, stifling a chuckle as he looked at the picture. Mirio stirred slightly but didn’t wake, a gentle smile still gracing his features. The room was filled with a sense of warmth and safety, the bond between them solidifying in the simplicity of the moment.

As Mirio drifted further away, he felt a sense of contentment wash over him. It was a day well spent, and he couldn’t help but look forward to what tomorrow would bring for them all.

🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊

The morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the breakfast table where Eri, Mirio, and Shinsou were happily digging into a stack of fluffy pancakes. Eri’s eyes sparkled with delight as she drizzled syrup over her stack, the sweet smell wafting through the air.

As they chatted and giggled, the sound of shuffling feet approached. Aizawa emerged from his room, tousled hair and sleepy eyes, just as Yamada bustled in, carrying a plate piled high with golden pancakes.

“Good morning, Shouta!” he called cheerfully, setting the plate down in front of him.

“Did everyone sleep well?” Aizawa asked, his voice still raspy from sleep as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Eri beamed up at him, her cheeks stuffed with pancakes. “I slept great! And guess what, Mr. Aizawa? Mirio called that lady from the store last night to set up a playdate at the park today! We’re going to hang out together!”

Mirio’s face instantly turned crimson, his cheeks matching the color of a ripe tomato as he fumbled with his fork. “I, uh... it’s not like that!” he stammered, his embarrassment palpable. Shinsou, sitting across from him, stifled a laugh behind his hand, a smirk spreading across his face as he watched Mirio squirm.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Just be safe, you two. And remember to keep an eye on Eri,” he added, glancing pointedly at Mirio, who was still blushing fiercely.

“Of course!” Eri chirped, her excitement infectious. Mirio, despite his flushed face, couldn’t help but feel a rush of joy at the thought of seeing you again. He grinned, the anticipation bubbling within him as he tried to play it cool.

“Yeah, we’ll have a great time!”

Meanwhile, on your end, you were sprawled across your bed, heart still racing from the phone call. Your face was buried in your pillow as you squealed, muffling the sound of your excitement. He really called me! He really called me! you thought, replaying every detail in your mind, savoring it like your favorite song.

You remembered the moment his number flashed on your phone screen. Not knowing who it was, you picked up with a casual, "Hello?" but inside you were buzzing with nerves, especially when you heard his voice crack a little as he started talking.

"H-Hey! It's Mirio... I hope I'm not calling too late," he said, his voice warm but tinged with a kind of awkwardness that made him even more endearing. You could practically see him rubbing the back of his neck, just like when he’d been standing in the store earlier.

"No, you're fine!" you replied, a smile spreading across your face as you pressed the phone tighter to your ear. You had just finished working around midnight before heading home to eat a grilled cheese and shower before climbing into your black strawberry print sheets.

Did your bones ache? 100% absolutely, no doubt about it. But you really liked the afflictions of his voice and it beats the boyfriend asmr you listen to sometimes to fall asleep.

"What’s up?"

There was a pause, and you could hear him exhale, almost like he was gathering courage. "I, uh... Eri wanted to go to the park tomorrow, and I thought maybe... if you’re not busy, you could... join us? If you want. No pressure! I mean, it’s just a park. A public place. With, you know, swings and stuff... so, uh..."

You giggled softly, letting him off the hook. "A public place, huh? That sounds very safe. I'd love to come along."

He sighed in relief, but then there was a moment of silence before he awkwardly admitted, "I... actually realized I never got your name. Kinda... embarrassing, huh?"

You grinned, teasing him just a little, "Oh, so you called me without even knowing my name? Bold move, Mirio."

He chuckled nervously. "Y-yeah, I guess so! I just... I couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it was talking to you today. You’re, like, really easy to talk to. And, uh..." He hesitated again, and you could feel the shift in his tone, his vulnerability coming through.

"You’re really pretty, too. That’s... part of it. You’ve got this energy, you know? It’s just... it feels good to be around you. So I figured I’d take a chance."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt a wave of warmth spread through you. You teased him again, just lightly. "Oh really? Well, you’re not too bad yourself. I’ve gotta say, you did look pretty good today with the sun shining over you like that."

'I wanted to bite your lips when you smiled.'

There was a bashful laugh on the other end of the line. "You think so? I felt so nervous talking to you, I thought I might trip over my own words."

"Well, you did great," you replied softly, feeling your own nerves start to settle. Talking to him was surprisingly easy, despite how flustered you both were.

You thought back to the way he had smiled earlier, how his eyes crinkled in the most charming way when he looked down at Eri, and how, for a moment, you'd feel a little flutter of nerves yourself. Thank God for Eri being there to smooth over the tension. You found yourself wishing you had asked him for a hug before he left.

'No,no,no, that would be weird! AGH!'

As you lay there now, hugging your pillow, your mind wandered back to how close he’d stood to you, and that same flutter of nerves returned. You dropped the pillow from your face and sat up, grinning like a kid. Your heart was still racing, but this time it was all excitement.

“Can’t wait,” you whispered to yourself, the smile lingering on your lips as you hopped out of bed to get ready for tomorrow’s ‘play date’—if that’s what you could even call it.

You had a gut feeling it would be more than just that.~

I'm whipping up a part 2, what do you all think?

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, @raendarkfaerie If you wanna be added lemme know!

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Bakugou here in the master list. I also have a Pro Hero! Bakugou x Sugar Baby fic and a Aizawa Fic.

Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

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jedimaesteryoda · 5 months ago

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Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow are somehow very much the image of their forebear Aegon V "Egg" Targaryen.

Egg is called the "Unlikely" for a reason. He was the youngest son of the youngest son, the trueborn grandson of Daeron II furthest from succession, yet he managed to become king. Daenerys likewise is a girl and an exiled, dispossessed royal with no lands, wealth or swords to her name at the start of the series, and by the end of the first book, lost her khal with seemingly nothing left. Yet, she manages to hatch dragon eggs and build an entire kingdom and army from the ground up. She is the exiled prince played straight. Jon is the supposed bastard son of Eddard Stark who joins the Night's Watch, yet he manages to rise to Lord Commander and could possibly become a king by the end of the series.

Jon and Dany both can relate to Egg with regards to relationships with his brothers. Daenerys had to deal with a half-mad abusive older brother in the form of Viserys while Egg was terrorized by his own half-mad sibling Aerion, and in the end, both their fraternal bullies ended up dying by fire. Jon had a good relationship with Egg's brother Maester Aemon, his fellow black brother who counsels him like he did Egg to the point he gives him the same advice of "kill the boy."

In "The Mystery Knight," the dragon egg at Whitewalls is believed to hatch a living dragon but it refers to Egg's maturation as he is unveiled as the Targaryen prince while Daenerys hatches living dragons eggs which connects to her maturation and rise.

(Note: Daenerys and Egg make their egg hatching attempts after having tragically lost their sons and spouses. Eg g and Jon both burned down places with Summerhall and Mormont's tower respectively.)

Connections are also found with physical transformation and taking on a new humble identity as a disguise under which the young prince learns about the trials of those less priveleged. Daenerys goes bald after hatching her dragon eggs, signifying her transformation from a weak, frightened girl to a "true Targaryen" just as Egg shaved off his hair to signify his transformation from Prince Aegon to Egg, squire to the hedge knight Dunk.

Aegon took on the guise of Egg as the squire to the common born hedge knight Dunk as he stayed away from royal court traveling the countryside. Daenerys grew up away from royal court in Essos always traveling from place to place while Jon (unwittingly) hides his Targaryen identity posing as Ned Stark's bastard son and rode with wildlings, associated with the smallfolk of the Night's Watch. Both Egg's descendants' views were impacted by their upbringing as Egg's was. Egg's years among the smallfolk gave him more sympathy towards them or as he was called "half a peasant" just as Jon was called "half a wildling" for having ridden with the wildlings and his upbringing as a bastard gave him more sympathy towards the marginalized along with good teachers. Daenerys's past as abused childhood growing up in poverty who sold into marriage made her sympathetic towards the slaves and children, the most marginalized and least protected members of society.

"Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves?" -ASOS, Daenerys III "I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?" -ADWD, Jon XI

Put into leadership roles as Jon is elected as Lord Commander and Dany becomes queen as Egg was elected King at the Great Council, the two show solidarity with the downtrodden as Egg did.

They face frustration in pushing through needed popular changes in face of reactionary opposition up to and including rebellions. Daenerys liberates slaves and supports their rights against the slavocracy, but faces opposition in the form of the Harpy and the Yunkish coalition as Egg supported the rights of smallfolk and faced opposition in the form of rebellions by the lords. Jon pushes for reforms such as naming a former prostitute as his squire and allying with the wildlings, but faces opposition in the form of Marsh's faction.

Daenerys and Jon are Egg's spiritual successors as they try to make the world a better place, and deal with realities of ruling and leadership.

#asoiaf #house targaryen #daenerys targeryan #dunk and egg #aegon targaryen #duncan the tall

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arabellaego · 4 months ago

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kwisatz haderach (dune) | max verstappen

pairing: duke atreides!max verstappen x princess!reader

warnings: mention of religious conflicts, secondary character death, violence

based on the Dune books and movies.

summary: Max Atreides, after seizing the throne through a holy war, confronts Princess Y/N Corrino, offering her marriage in exchange for sparing her father's life. Despite their complex past, Max is driven by visions of their destined future where Y/N torn between duty and emotion accepts as she grapples with the loss of her family's power.

a/n: This is the first time I've posted here! hope you like it. Pls note English is not my native language but I tried my best. I´ve been obsessed with Dune movies and I just pictured Max as Paul Atreides. Maybe I´ll make more parts but enjoy!

glossary at the end

Max Atreides was certain of one thing after initiating a holy war in his name. There was only one way to solidify his claim to the throne after the execution of his house by indirect government orders. He had to marry Princess Y/N of House Corrino, the only daughter of the emperor who had ruled until that fateful day.

“If you are to advance your claims, Duke Atreides, I must insist that you first extend the courtesy of allowing my family to defend themselves with fairness and honor,” the princess said with calm and decorum that characterized her, despite her entire family being trapped on the planet Arrakis.

In her desperation to find a solution that would preserve both her dignity and lineage, she proposed a traditional duel to death to decide her fate.

“My reign shall not be one of tyranny, Princess Y/N. Thus, I deem your request justified in the name of the noble dynasty you represent” the last survivor of the famed House Atreides replied. His firm and resolute tone did little to calm the nerves the princess felt within, though she was grateful that the facial adornments of royal etiquette partially concealed her face. “Furthermore, there remains a blood debt owed to House Harkonnen for the murder of my father.”

In recent months, the princess had heard of Max Atreides and the rebellion he bore on his shoulders. His name was not unfamiliar to her; in the past, House Atreides had been one of the closest allies to House Corrino due to their influence and wealth. Plans were discussed, alliances were forged, and a possible marriage between the two heirs was quietly hinted at within the shadows of the court. However, the rising popularity of Duke Jos Atreides among the empire's most powerful houses led the emperor to reconsider giving his only daughter’s hand in marriage.

By the time this occurred, Y/N and Max were already aware of each other’s existence. In their free time, they conversed in the company of the princess’s court and the guardians of the young heir, who would tell them stories of Max’s father’s exploits as a diplomatic ruler. It was a sorrowful day when young Max stopped frequenting the gardens of Kaitain.

She never questioned her father’s reasons, as her upbringing dictated. Yet, Max Atreides remained a fond memory from her childhood. What, if anything, was left of that Atreides she once knew?

Max Atreides, covered in blood after a fierce battle against Lewis Harkonnen—who had been chosen as the emperor's champion to contest the throne—limped towards the royal entourage, where the emperor and his court watched the brutal confrontation. The triumphant shouts of the Fremen celebrating their leader’s victory echoed through the air, heightening Princess Y/N's alarm.

Noticing that the new emperor showed no intention of lowering the weapons he had used just moments ago to take his cousin’s life, the princess, driven by an involuntary force, spoke again:

“The blood debt has been paid. Spare my father’s life, and I will willingly become your wife.”

The relationship between Y/N and her father had always been cold and distant. She was not the long-desired male heir he had hoped to continue the Corrino dynasty, which had cast doubt on the succession in the eyes of the entire empire. Some houses saw this as a unique opportunity to place their last name in the line of succession, but the princess had not concerned herself with this—until today. “The throne is yours.”

Deep within, she silently thanked the universe for Max Atreides’s victory.

Without uttering a word, his heavy breath and gaze so piercing it compelled those present to look away, Max extended his hand towards the emperor, displaying the ring bearing the emblem of his house on his ring finger. All were stunned by this gesture; even the Bene Gesserit, always observant and calculating, could do nothing but watch and ensure the well-being of the imperial princess.

When no response came, Max struck the ground with his foot, creating a thunderous sound that shook the chamber and forced the former emperor to react. He took Max’s hand and slowly placed a soft kiss on the Atreides family ring, thus accepting his defeat and the end of his dynasty. He knelt, followed by everyone in the room—except Y/N.

This did not go unnoticed by the new emperor, who returned her gaze with an unreadable expression aimed at his future empress consort.

(…)

After the army was dispatched to quell those who refused to acknowledge the new ruler and the witnesses to the ascension of a new name to the throne of the known universe had been dealt with, Max Atreides could no longer delay his inevitable reunion with Princess Y/N.

In an adjacent room to the grand hall where the events had unfolded, the princess was trying to calm the royal entourage that remained by her side. She revealed her ability to suppress her emotions, handling the critical situation with calm, while her ladies-in-waiting helped her remove the dozen adornments she was wearing.

“Your Highness, the emperor wishes to speak with you alone,” one of Max’s commanders announced, bursting into the room.

“Of course,” Y/N replied with a touch of sarcasm, though she maintained her courtesy. She could not afford to risk innocent lives over a display of insolence.

With a steady stride, the princess made her way to where the new monarch awaited her, trying to focus her mind and devise a diplomatic strategy that might prevent further outbursts from Max.

“Her Imperial Highness, Princess Y/N Corrino,” announced the guard as she arrived. She entered the room and, with a firm stance, faced Max, keeping a respectful distance.

"In the name of my house, do not question the loyalty of my people, and I urge you to show mercy. I will not dishonor the agreement we made; I only ask that..." Before she could finish her plea, the strong hands of Emperor Atreides seized the princess's waist. She was overwhelmed with surprise, for of all the possible outcomes, this was the least expected.

“The vision of you guiding me into the future has haunted me day and night since I stopped returning to the garden,” Max said, scrutinizing each of her features before continuing. "Princess Y/N, I don’t expect you to understand. Perhaps you can forgive me one day."

Maybe it was the fact that the man who was now holding her as the empire’s most precious treasure had coldly murdered armies and stripped her family of their right to the throne in an instant; the natural response was a loss of confidence in herself.

Max observed cautiously, awaiting his now betrothed’s next move. Many futures lay before them—traumatic deaths, the failure of his cause, and a possible alternative to achieving everything he ever wanted. He could force the princess to submit to him, but that was not what Max desired.

The determination in Y/N’s eyes did not falter. She understood that the emperor was not showing weakness, but strength—a strength that had shaped destiny and now stretched out before them, an inevitable line in time.

“I hope for a peaceful coexistence with you, Your Majesty,” her voice was low but charged with an intensity that Max could comprehend. She could not expect less from a fellow heir like herself. “The torment required to reach this point—I am not innocent. Every pain, every death, the inability to act, makes me complicit.”

Y/N felt the weight of her words, the gravity of what she had revealed. He knew that her family had orchestrated the downfall of his. Though Y/N had no voice or vote in that conspiracy, she felt guilty as if she had perpetuated it with her own hands.

Duke Atreides released her, turning his gaze toward the window offering a desert landscape of the planet. He took a moment before continuing the conversation.

“There’s no need for you to express regret to me, Princess.”

“I only wish to be honest. You mentioned forgiveness first.”

“I wasn’t apologizing for the past.”

She knew that Max’s eyes could see far beyond what anyone could imagine. If the little information the Reverend Mother had shared with her was true, his visions were not mere dreams but premonitions of destiny. The teachings of the Bene Gesserit and her mother made her understand that Max might be the culmination of an entire species' evolution.

And though her conscience resisted accepting that her life no longer belonged solely to her, reality dragged her toward the realization that their fates were irrevocably intertwined. She could only cling to a fragile trust in her future husband.

“Kwisatz Haderach.”

Silence filled the room as they looked at each other, knowing they stood on the brink of monumental change. Max gazed at her intently, his intense blue eyes shining with a mixture of compassion.

“You are the Kwisatz Haderach.”

Slowly, she brought a hand to his face, gently touching Max's jaw, as if to ensure that what she saw was real.

The dilemma in Y/N’s heart was evident. The Max Atreides who had once wandered into her garden no longer existed.

Finally, Y/N nodded, a small sign of acceptance, but enough for Max to feel that the future he had seen was taking hold of everything. With a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of his previous words, Max drew her close, enveloping her in his arms as if he were protecting her.

“This ends with us,” Y/N murmured, her voice firm and resolute, finding in Max the strength she needed to face the destiny that awaited them.

The destiny he had chosen.

Glossary

Bene Gesserit: A secretive and influential sisterhood with advanced mental and physical abilities, trained in espionage, politics, and manipulation. They play a crucial role in the power dynamics of the universe.

Reverend Mother: A high-ranking member of the Bene Gesserit, who has undergone intense training and a dangerous ritual involving the "Water of Life," giving her enhanced mental and physical powers, and access to ancestral memories.

Kwisatz Haderach: A prophesied superbeing with extraordinary mental abilities, able to bridge space and time. The Bene Gesserit have long sought to create this being through selective breeding.

Kaitain: The planet Kaitain was the capital of the Corrino Empire.

Arrakis: A desert planet also known as Dune, the only source of the valuable substance "spice" (melange), which is essential for space travel and extends life. Control of Arrakis is central to the power struggles in the universe.

Fremen: The native people of Arrakis, known for their survival skills in the harsh desert environment. They are fierce warriors with a deep spiritual connection to their planet and its resources.

#f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #imagine max verstappen #max verstappen drabble #dune part two #dune imagine #paul atreides #dune movie

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