#the trust issues he must have ... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cursedcola · 2 months ago

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Prompt: YOU ARE LIKE PAPA!!!! Aka. I'm seeing a trend. The boys are all literal carbon copies of their mommas (or one parent) at this point - so how do they feel having a child that’s THEIR spitting image? In which your genes didn’t even try. Physically...and personality. Masterlist: LinkedUP Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: House-Wardens Format: Headcannons+ imagine (Yes, I know I said I wouldn't be doing bullets anymore...but one more? It's mixed. Can't just cold turkey a gal) A/N: Do I want to make this a series?...I do not know. Maybe? It's really hard to write without the kids having names - and I'm just here like...can I use the names I want? I already made them up in a past post. Would that ruin the experience for people? I mean - it's my stuff and I can do what I want but hmmm.... Warning(?): For this to be, MC's the one who popped the kid out and has reproductive ability to house spawn. Kiddos are biological. Talk of pregnancy and general child-rearing. Use of mother and she/her pronouns to make my life a bit easier.

Riddle couldn't care if his child looked like him down to the last freckle on is butt. What mattered most in that delivery room was that the child came out healthy with no complications. He's the father that doesn't shy away from asking the doctor + midwives questions - perhaps too many, since you nearly toss him out of the delivery room for causing unneeded distress.

In all honesty? Had he studied medicine like his mother pushed - Riddle would've been the one delivering his own child. He copes with stress through control - so imagine THAT scenario.

After birth, he cares much more for the child's skills and manners rather than their appearance. Do they wash their hands before every meal? Say their please and thank you? Do they trust him enough to state their opinions - respectfully, not a potty mouth.

Riddle can and will make them lick a bar of soap if they utter a curse word before the age of 15.

How's their academic drive? Are they social? It's very important that they get along well with others from an early age. He wants them to have many friends.

He's so focused on their personality - aiming to raise a happy, confident, healthy child - that Riddle takes compliments on their physical attributes with a grain of salt until his hard work all those years child-rearing amass into... well, a second less intense version of himself.

He's adamant to ensure the child's homelife is better than what he had growing up. In a way, he misses much while worrying about other things. 10/10 an anxious father, but very doting despite being strict.

"Must I paint a heart on my cheek every day? Why not a crown, or something more fitting us? Like a rose?" his daughter huffed, yet went to paint a large red heart over her cheekbone regardless.

Just like her father, she'd received her invitation to Night Raven. The girl was expecting it, her certainty fueled by perfect grades and a strong aptitude for magic. She did not lack confidence.

Just like her father, she was assured to land in Heartslabyul. Already prepping her cheek-mark before the mirror made any verdict.

Just like her father, she aimed for the position of Housewarden before setting a single foot on campus.

Yet unlike her father, she held no issues in speaking her grievances. She bemoaned about packing, groveled at her mother's feet for her favorite biscuits before living off cafeteria meals, and surely had no reservations stealing Riddle's best fountain pen for her studies.

She keenly resembled a certain ginger that still calls the Rosehearts' household every day despite getting blue-screened by the answering machine.

That’s the last time Riddle allows you to chose the godfather of his child. Ace is an insufferable influence without that power to toss around.

Riddle sighed, plucking the brush from her fingers and pinning her V-shaped bangs back to examine her uniform. He flattens her lapels and redoes her necktie.

His necktie. Gods he’s raised a little thief.

For a moment, as he loops the tie-knot, he's a young boy calling the girl's mother over each morning to straighten her uniform. It's nostalgic, especially with how his daughter squirms under his appraisal.

Definetly her mother’s daughter, he thinks.

It is then that Riddle sees himself through her wide eyes - they're the same greyish blue that were hardened on his first day. His daughter's are much kinder, he notes. She'll easily find companions to eat her meals with.

Her cheeks are full with sweetness- his were too, but by genetic design rather than an extra treat here and there. To this day his baby-face lingers.

Her cheeks were 100% rounded with uncle Trey's spoiling. Not that Riddle could deny her when he'd eat just as much sweets while toiling over papers in his office. He remembers the familiar patter of feet slipping in, tiny hands pushing a cookie on his desk and coating it with crumbs.

He'd scold her to bring a plate next time, but take a break from work to enjoy the moment. Strict yet not domineering. A child that shares should be encouraged, at least that's what one of his many parenting manuals said.

She shared his button nose and tiny stature. Except she loved wearing matching Mary-Janes with her mother, while he wouldn't be caught without a heel at that age. She inherited his height but not his insecurity. Thank goodness.

Perhaps all those comments about his genetics weren't solely in regard to her magical prowess or ambitions. "....Father? Hellloooo?" she side-stepped to grab her bags, just as he reached to flatten her hair for the fifth time. His heart mellowed enough to not scold her impropriety.

"Ah - " Riddle coughed into his fist, " - apologies, little rose. I just never realized how much you look like -"

"You?” She cut in, “Yeah, psssssh. Mother says it at least once a day. About time you listened."

Riddle snorted, pinching between his brows. Yes, of course it was said. Although only now was he beginning to believe it.

"In appearances, yes. Yet your manners are as deplorable as ever."

Leona hopes his children are nothing like him. Which is impossible, since beastmen carry dominant traits when pitted against humans. He's not surprised in the slightest when his child has two little cub-ears atop their head, or that tiny chord barely passing as a tail. A ready snack he threatens to bite off when they misbehave.

At the very least, he hoped for your eyes. His piercing citrine was attractive, no doubt about that. He's not displeased to have them peer up at him from a bassinette each morning. Yet it is your eyes that carry a softness that this palace needs for him to get through his day.

Hey. At least there's no question of paternity. The joke falls flat with the midwives though. 'course it does.

Multiple times, by the way. For someone who claims to dislike loud children, Leona's genes are intent to sire three spitting images of himself.

In every which way - from their squeaky yawns after a mid-day siesta, to the magic flowing in their veins.

"Papa! Look what I learned how to do!"

Leona barely had time to look up from his endless pile of paperwork. The damn thing was near endless, and he'd missed three scheduled siestas just trying to get through the civil dispute filings. His brother spared no mercy in delegating the less 'enthusing' tasks to his 'smart, wise, people-smart' - pah - little brother.

He hated the sea of menial administrative filings.

His eldest daughter was well aware - she hated her homework just as much.

"A stampede's on it's way! Better freeze up before it's too late!"

Which is why she chose that moment to turn her beloved papa's woes to stone. Literally.

The moment her little fingers touched papyrus, the entire stack turned into solid rock. As did the blood in Leona's veins. Sparkly citrine eyes looked at him expectantly. Somewhere in the palace the lioness' tutor was undoubtly scouring to find her, take her back to magic theory, maybe try to cover this up from the other servants.

"You - OI! I needed those - urk, what else have you turned to stone?" he drops the pen in his hand and tries to move the now frozen stack into a drawer.

"Dammit Ki'faji...Where are your tutors? This is exactly why I told your mom combined lessons with Cheka would be a hassle," Leona grumbles and kicks from his desk, quick to check the hall outside. The kid was a bad influence - rambunctious as a twerp and even more riled up as a preteen.

Upon seeing no servants, guards, or even Cheka running up after his cousin - Leona's both relieved and angered.

Angered that his daughter was left alone. She probably escaped to avoid classwork, which he did too at that age but she deserved better. A proper education outside of solitude. One where she could hopefully grow up optimistic about this country and the people inside of it.

Relieved that no servant witnessed her Unique magic. They wouldn't understand. He can't bear the thought of them speaking of her like they did him.

Except it would be inevitable.

Then angered again, because in his hurry her little tail tucked between her legs. She hugged the side of his work desk with her hands fisted at the hem of her tunic. Her lips set in a scared pout, looking up at him past that untamed mane in her eyes. Worried.

"Papa...did I do something wrong?"

He wonders if this is what his father felt like. Being confronted with your own child, knowing that by cruel fate they'd have to face hardships and hatred for something out of their control.

Suffocating. His own throat felt full of sand. The leather on his hands too tight. She looked so much like him. Acted like him. That much Leona never once contested. Ki-Faji bemoaned to the skies that it was like time never passed, and he was stuck in a loop teaching the same unruly child.

It was funny, until it wasn't. "Nah, kiddo. Nothin' like that," he tried to keep his usual drawl. Unclench his fists. Forget about when he first slipped gloves on, "ya gotta warn me before a shock like that. So you finally got your magic tamed down, huh? Good job."

He shut the door and it set closed with a load thud. Leona might have an idea of what his father felt, but right now? She came first.

Ensuring she felt wanted, strong, and damn right accomplished - came first. Everything else later.

So with just a few strides, he swept her up over his shoulder and out from under that desk. She giggled and squawked about turning 'him' to stone if he made her go back to classes.

And Leona made no promises, but set her on the edge of his desk with 'threats' of turning her sweets to sand if she didn't at least try.

"With Unique Magic like that, you'll out-class your cousin before he even catches wind," and a bit of rivalry never hurt to keep the bloodline strong too.

Which judging by his daughter's immediate squirming to go and turn the first-prince to stone? She inherited Leona's competitive streak as well.

Unions between Merfolk and Humans are rare. Roughly 1/100 and that is giving benefit of the doubt. There were too many boundaries and complications. Prejudice born from history, the need for transfiguration, differing lifespans and culture.

One strong deterrent, perhaps the most impactful, is childrearing. The genetic output - while not impossible - is exceedingly unpredictable. Each species of merfolk reproduces differently, and their genetic dominance when put against a human's gene (especially if the mother is human) can cause complications. Capricious complications.

And as we all know - Azul is not fond of chance. Were his child to be born on land, yet have gills? Their lungs are so small, so new, they wouldn't make it to water in time. The same could be if they were born underwater and needed air.

One thing he is certain of, is that Octopi carry strong genetics. Literally. Should the child inherit his strength its kicks could do much more to your stomach than be a tickle to fawn over.

His mother wanted grandchildren, as did his great-grandmother did great grandchildren. Truth be told he wouldn't be opposed to raise one to leave his legacy to. Yet the Ashengrotto genes were strong with each descendent, so much that when he discovered you were with child? He couldn't be happy. Not truly - because too much was at risk and out of his control.

He prayed, which is not something Azul ever does, that the child would take after you. At each stage of development you were monitored down to the last detail, looking for any complications. Even the slightest hint of a tentacle or incompatibility.

Luckily, the child formed feet. Its first kick scared the hell out of him, but at most left you sore. Yet he wasn't able to relax. Not until you were taken care of in the best hospital on land, with a literal aquarium set up next to the bed just in case.

A medical marvel. That's what this child was.

Not a miracle. Not a blessing.

A medical marvel, and the most beautifully unpredictable thing that has ever happened to Azul in his entire life.

There was no clear picture of how his son might look at birth. He waited with bated breath, mentally running through every text he could find on mer-human unions. Banking on all the preparations He arranged and trying not to bite through his nails from the anxiety. The success rate was too low, but you insisted.

And he was most fortunate, because had you not then he wouldn't be holding the most cherished prize of his life.

The baby didn't cry, yet neither did he according to his mother. He was pale, no gills in sight but the wispy swirls of light gray on his head showed Azul's genes wouldn't rescind everything.

It was hidden from view for now, but there were signs of mixed blood on his son's skin. Plentiful black dots spotted his entire body, too dark to be freckles yet too light to be like Azul's outer skin in his mer-form. Time would only tell if Azul's genes really did overtake all, and if his son would look at the world with wet purple eyes.

Yet what struck Azul the most wasn't these obvious traits, ones he predicted at the very start of your pregnancy after endless nights of research.

It was that right below his son's lip, in the same spot as his father, was a small mole. That truly was by chance with no genetic influence.

He thumbed the little speck, marveling at something so small yet he didn't realize he wanted until it was there.

"You weren't lying, huh? Those are some strong genetics you carry."

Azul balked, just barely stopping himself from whipping around too quick. He turned to scold you for not sleeping, worry ebbing at him all over again.

Yet you rest your head against his shoulder, cheek pressed into his ruffled button down to sink against him. His heart still spun like it did as a teenager.

"Look at his little head of hair," you laughed, and he mutely did just that, "if he gets glasses, then I think my bloodline's finished. Might as well say you did mitosis"

That got him to scoff.

"Hardly," he said dismissively, but his lips pulled to smile regardless, "I don't recall giving him feet. That's all your doing."

"Well excuse me for not having eight legs."

"You are excused," he snickered, "Truly, he would be so much more productive with them."

Azul didn't mean that. Well, partially. Yes his son would get much more done with four sets of arms but with other costs.

You hadn't pressed, and he was grateful.

Kalim wants a large family. Not only because it is expected of him as the eldest Asim, but also because he is a family man. He adores his siblings and does his absolute best to give them all attention despite their large quantity.

He's the most doting husband, and is even more attentive as a parent. One thing he will do differently from his father is keeping his family 'small'. Four children minimum, six children maximum. Monogamous as well. As much as he loves all his siblings, the unspoken tensions are too much to endure. Kalim's also a one-spouse kind of guy, and the thought of sharing - while normal for someone of his status - is not for him. No amount of suggestion or pressure will change that. It is bad enough that his children will be subject to worries about their uncles, aunties, and cousins possibly harboring ill-will. Kalim is set on ensuring that they are part of a true family, one without such tensions, and that he can give them all the love they deserve.

Perhaps he feels guilt as the eldest. He received the most attention from his father as the heir, but he has siblings who barely know anything about their father aside from how he looks. He has step-mothers he has met only in formality, and as time went on there were strains between his siblings that he couldn't ignore. Not after taking his official seat.

Kalim will not be the same as his father. Regardless for his respect and love for the man - No matter what the future does to him, no matter if he lives a long life or one cut short. Kalim will make sure his spouse and children are cared for. He loves them more than anything on the planet.

Should he have a family, and the situation demand it? He'd give up his spot as heir in a heartbeat and move far out into the dunes with nothing but the clothes on his back. All for them to be happy and safe. That's the kind of dad he is.

"Baba?"

Kalim resisted the urge to giggle. His eldest son hated when Kalim acted too childlike, and he was already pushing the boy's patience. He was just past thirteen, his fourteenth birthday already planned for a week-long celebration in just a half-month. It would be the biggest banquet the Scaldings Sands had see since Kalim's wedding. His son would soon start officially training as the next head Asim, just like Kalim did at that age.

Yet it was never too early to celebrate one of the best days of Kalim's life. Which is exactly why Kalim hovered outside the boy's window at an hour long past their family's 'bedtime'. The carpet under his feet familiar as ever, as was his son's exhausted disapproval (we wonder which attendant he inherited 'that' look from).

"Come on! Let's go for a carpet ride. Just you and me tonight," Kalim gently pat the space next to him, his smile adamant, "we don't even have to tell your mother."

His son deadpanned. Even Kalim grimaced at that one.

"Okay! If we get caught, I'll take the hit for both of us. Please? It's such a lovely night out. Perfect for a flight~"

Normally it would be the son begging his father to sneak out, not the other way around. Yet Kalim's eldest was much more mature than he was at that age. Despite being his physical copy, those ruby reds never sparkled with excitement like his father's. They were aways fully concentrated - be it on his studies, his charity, or whomever captured his attention. There came a point when a rumor surfaced that he couldn't possibly be Kalims, yet they didn't reach far thanks to the physical resemblance.

The 'only' resemblance. Since the kid hadn't cracked a laugh since he was in diapers.

Something Kalim learned to accept, but never gave up trying.

His son observed from his bed, the boy's nose wrinkled with thought. No doubt wondering if he should tattle to his mom. He was a doting momma's boy, at least he had that in common with his father.

"Fine," he sighed heavily, and rolled out of bed like it was torture.

Kalim waited, holding the curtain open eagerly until his boy hopped the ledge and sat cross-legged on the carpet's far edge.

Then they were off. High above the city where no one would see. Kalim bobbed his head happily, pointing out buildings as if his son hadn't memorized the entire map of their homeland at the ripe age of five.

"Oh! And there's the restaurant I took your mother on our first date. She loves their Kanafeh -"

"Baba, I know. We have it for breakfast twice every week."

Kalim guided the carpet towards lower ground without a response - keeping air, sassy teenagers, and his messy turban from whacking him in the face.

Only two of those three succeeded.

"Why are we even out here? Shouldn't you worry more about your responsibilities? What if mother wakes to an empty bed, did you consider the consequences? Her worries?"

There came those older thoughts out of such a young mouth. Kalim couldn't help but slump inwards, although his smile still hung on. "You're turning fourteen soon," life will change, "Don't you want to enjoy life a bit more before starting your studies? Baba will understand, you know." he said, and perhaps that was not what his son expected to hear. The boy puffed up. His tanned skin rouging with lost composure.

"I'm not like you. Being al Asim means something to me. Maybe you'd understand if you were a proper sultan who took his job and family seriously! Rather than sneaking off in the night for merry rides on a flying carpet!"

Under the moonlight, his son's perfectly primmed white hair bounced in the wind. Even in sleep he managed to keep his appearance tidy. There were times it was like Kailm was looking in warped a mirror. Those rare moments when he caught the boy lapse, usually with his younger siblings or cousins. When he looked softer, his garnet eyes full of kindness rather than the contempt held in them right now.

Except in these moments too - he still saw a mirror. Just one he wished to avoid.

He too disliked his father's way of doing things, to a certain extent. That his own son felt similar wasn't a surprise. It did not lessen the sting regardless.

"Tifli..." Kalim started, and his son faltered at the endearment, "think what you want, but there is nothing that means more to me than our family."

And even if his son wouldn't admit to it - Kalim knew he saw the mirror too. Just because Kalim disliked his father's choices, didn't mean he did not love him.

He reached for his son without a second thought, pulling the boy down to roughly rub his cheek over his head.

and just like that, Kalim was back to being happy and his son back to groaning complaints - albeit less agitated, to Kalim's delight - and pretending he was much more mature than he was deep down. Kalim's opposite yet perfect little replica.

"Ahahaha!!! Look at you! Just wait until the council has to fight against that fire! I can't wait to bring you with me! "

"AGH LET ME GO!!! WHY DID I EVEN AGREE TO THIS?!"

Papa Vil - now that's one unexpected title to tack onto his Resume. Contrary to what everyone might believe of a superstar leading a life on the go, Vil is proud to be a father. His own raised him while juggling his goals, why should Vil's career deny him the joys of fatherhood?

No. When Vil's daughter is born, he is more than prepared to balance family and work. He locked in when taking a spouse, and is never one to be unprepared.

When you were pregnant, he announced a hiatus in his career just as you entered the third trimester. He can afford it. The public loves a family man. He has money money, and wasn't going to risk missing the birth of his first child while travelling.

Also. Supportive husband to the maximum. Considering you were carrying his child, the bare minimum he could do was be readily available as you go through the roughest stage. That baby had a college fund made and filled before she was even born.

Not that he'd just let her mooch - no child of his would grow up without ambition and practiced life skills. He was not 'aiming' to create a replica or enforce his standards...but she wouldn't lack drive. No Schoenheit - not even you - is going to go through life quietly.

His hiatus was meant to extend until she turned one. Old enough to enjoy life on the road, for you to recover, and give 3-5 years for him to work until she started school. Unlike him at that age, she wouldn't be chartered around as much for his work. Nope.

He already had it planned. She'd be enrolled in a private academy, you'd work as you liked in a good neighborhood, and he wouldn't take any contracts outside of the Shaftlands until she was a teenager. Balance. She would have every opportunity, proper support, and hopefully independence to grow outside of his shadow.

The last thing Vil wanted was for her to be influenced by his career - well, other than admiring his films and being that perfect little face to single out int the audience while at a talk-show or photoshoot.

Speaking of Schoenheit genetics and their blossoming careers - heavens above, he fell in love the moment she first opened her eyes. There were few curly blond ringlets that grew out at super speed as the months past, and she inherited his lavender eyes. Although on a baby they were more rounded, doe-like, and would most definitely take his sharp edge as she grew. Every time he booped her little nose, the little giggle that came was almost melodic.

Such a well behaved baby made a cameo in one of his largest projects to date. He took the role of an unruly ostracized duke, where the special effects makeup made him both enchanting yet horribly frightening to young children. His character gained his redemption through raising an orphan, and Vil's little girl was the only baby they could find who wouldn't cry when seeing her father act so heinous.

"Vil, everyone here is itching to know, is it true that the baby we see in 'Redemption of our Finest ' is your own daughter? There are rumors and speculations from those on set yet we'd love confirmation."

Vil shifts in his chair. The many cameras at all angles did little to deter his focus from the interview in progress. It was one of many, and the talk-host across from him looked very eager to get the first scoop on his latest hit success. He smiled to the camera with his eyes, pretending to be in thought for a moment. The questions were all pre-approved, after all.

"Your assumption and the rumors are all correct," he started, crossing his legs and folding his hands together in them, "unfortunately we struggled to find a child that would not cry when faced with my appearance. Poor little things - it is a struggle to rear child actors. Especially babies."

The reporter blinked, somehow still shocked despite knowing the already.

"And you're saying that your daughter is a cut above the rest?" they asked, and he tutted inwardly. The phrasing was poor, as always with these reporters.

"Yes," he gave them a moment's victory, "and no."

He didn't wait for further inquiry.

"My daughter is remarkable - she is my greatest production, a work of perfection alongside my beloved spouse. Yet this film is rated PG-13, and includes scenes not fit for young eyes. Babies act on instincts alone, and for the majority of this film my appearance was...ah, I so rarely say this, but I was unsightly."

His tone carried warning for them not to twist his words, and the message was received as they gestured for those behind the scenes to alter the backdrop.

"We could even argue your acting ability is that good! To make such a beautiful face and poised demeanor come off as cold." they said, and with the click of a button the screen behind them changed.

On it came a picture of an old, tattered bassinette left on the front stoop of a castle. The picture flicked to show inside, and in it was Vil's precious little girl. Special effects added some dirt on her cheeks, and they wrapped her in a tattered blanket for the scene. Yet despite their efforts to make the child look abandoned, Schoenheit genetics demanded the world see such an adorable baby for all she is.

The audience awed at the picture, even without a cue card. Vil himself took on a genuine lift to his practiced smile when seeing her.

"And just look at her folks! Such an adorable little baby! Can you really expect anything less from THE Vil Schoenheit and Eric Venue's heritage. An actor before she can even count! Your wife's genes didn't even try here, did they Vil?"

The crowd appears insatiable as the host scrolls through a series of photos. Some taken from the film, others from photoshoots and the occasional candid photo snuck by paparazzi. He knew better than to try and hide his family, but said nothing as they all made assumptions.

After all - he was beautiful, and his daughter was undoubtedly the most beloved baby in all of Twisted Wonderland. It was only natural and who was he to turn his nose when faced with one of the few facts these reporters have gotten right.

Although, he wasn't entirely content He laughed into his palm, unable to resist the chance and made direct eye-contact with one of the cameras. Knowing full well that you were watching somewhere back stage, lips likely puckered from being disrespected and just waiting for him to come sneak your family out before the public was dismissed.

"I'm afraid there is nothing to argue there. My genes are perfection, not to mention competitive," he smirked seductively at the camera, propping his chin in the palm of his hand, "but I'm not opposed if my wife would like a rematch for a chance to win the next battle."

And with that - he simultaneously spiked his popularity rating and soft-launched what would likely be a second replica coming to life soon.

Maybe.

If you didn't kill him for that stunt first.

Prodigies spawn prodigies. At least in this case.

Idia never pictured himself as a family man. Hells he never thought anyone would even look at him with anything other than disgust (minus that one ghost lady. He doesn’t like to talk about it) let alone marry him. Needless to say that he cannot decide if you are an idiot or if he has plot armor - because those are the only two reasons you could possibly ever agree to give up your entire life and move to STYX just to be with him.

**see Marriage series for settling THAT can of worms

Yet you do, and now he’s got not only his little brother but a whole ass spouse. He’s on cloud nine. Life cannot be letting him have such good luck. The RNG is rigged

Until he learns that you’re with child - and it all goes boom. Literally. Since not only does his daughter inherit his curse, his fiery flames that never tame themselves, and his spiked teeth that nip his lips way too many times for comfort -

She inherits his genius.

Raising a child in a contained base is a living nightmare.

Raising a child with a need to infiltrate the laboratories and experiment is hell. At least he kept to his room when tinkering as a kid. Idia’s daughter has his brains and your craftiness for going around undetected…and your habit of initiating dramatic events. Needless to say that she does NOT keep to your family’s apartment, does NOT submit to any security (he regrets teaching her how to decode the base padlocks), and very much enjoys making STYX ‘lively’….haha…yeah

No one has ever met such a happy Shroud. Excluding Ortho. He was a sweet type of happy. You spawned a menace.

But let’s not derail. Even if he didn’t want her per-say - Idia loves his daughter. His gut twisted seeing the Shroud curse start taking hold over such a tiny body. She was just a toddler and already burning through enough blot to tie her to this place. He knew the feeling of those youthful amber eyes looking at him for guidance. She looked so much like Ortho as a toddler, and as a child began to resemble him more with longer flames.

It was a constant battle every day. Balancing his work while also trying to do better - because his attitude sucked. He knew his attitude sucked. You warned him about using self-deprecative language and for the most part he did learn to reign it in.

Except old habits die hard, and deep down he still struggles to like himself. Seeing his daughter follow in his footsteps burns brutally, since she has all this potential and just like him she’ end up working for the family business without a choice. All because of these stupid flames and these stupid teeth and these stupid genetics and this STUPID curse -

“MAMAAAAAAAA!!!! DADDY’S BEING A BIG MEANIE AGAIN!!!”

Her shrill high-pitched cry carried throughout the apartment. Idia had just enough time to swipe the alarm system off before it processed. He wishes he could regret putting a system to detect and alert if she was distressed when alone here - but couldn’t. Even now. Since this was totally 100% his fault.

Dammit this kid has lungs of steel.

“Nonononononono - No Mama! No! Shhh shh shh shh!” He grapppled at her little shoulders with clammy hands, “Look! Look I’m not sad, see??? We have pretty hair! Super cool hair! Please please please stop crying -“

And then she did.

The tonal whiplash. The way this tiny manipulator just ceased all her tears, mouth clamping shut with an audible click. A literal child pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket to pat her eyes dry - like some twisted 60yr old swindler at a poker game who’s been training for this moment for decades.

He should have known.

Honestly. Idia can’t even bring himself to be mad. The amount of gaslighting it took to get this kid off his Ninswendo last week already put his best tricks to use.

He is the one who created this monster.

Just like her dad - his little girl was hyper aware of people. Including him, and picked up all his weaknesses. She knew damn well that he genuinely had reason to fear only two people - her momma and her grandmother. Both of which lecture him about being a good model. She knew that system was put in place, and to be good when no one was around to watch her. Not that she ever stayed quiet in their home with S.T.Y.X labs to infiltrate.

He just never thought the day would come, when her demon like tendencies would be used for something like this.

“Your her father, not her friend” his mother said.

“It’s bad enough you turned me into a living photocopier - don’t you dare get lenient with her at this age” you warned.

“That child scares me” he thought, and you agreed. Awful. Awful parents. You both mean it in the most loving way possible.

“Hwee hee hee! I’m glad you think so, daddy,” she grinned up at him all sweet-like, with those pointy little chompers ready to stake their claim. She snapped her teeth at him like a piranha, “hehe~ Mommy says our teeth are cool too. The pointies make eating steak easier - oh! Oh! Can we please have steak for dinner tonight? Please?? Pleaseeeeee?”

Something told him that should he say no, those distress detectors would be set off before he could catch them.

“U-uh…yeah, kiddo. Sure thing. Just go play and I’ll put an order in.”

He tried desperately to hide the quiver in his voice, but knew he failed. She skipped off to her bedroom much too happily - even if father’s were supposed to want their kids to be happy, that was too much - and whatever work remained for the evening didn’t seem important

As Idia slid up to one of the house control panels to check for instant-card delivery, he wondered how this became his life, and if this is how his parents felt having a prodigal spawn of the under-hells for a son.

No. He wasn’t that bad….was he? Did he even want to know at this point?

Boom

“DADDY!!! MY EXPERIMENT BLEW UP AND IS LEAKING RED GUNK!”

No. No. He really did not want to know. For the sake of whatever relationship he had with his parents.

He wants as many children as possible. The definition of that one clip of of the kid who wanted 100 children, so that they'd all have to be his friend. Not that Malleus would force his children to be his friends - well, it would be a plus surely - but he does want a large family to live his life beside.

He finds comfort in solitude, but comfort's close companion is loneliness. He wishes to never be partnered with that feeling. There was opposition. Union between the Briar Prince and a human? Unheard of. Not to mention the life-span difference. Not just between himself and you, but also for his children. Half-fae live long, but not as long as full-blooded fae. In time he will still come out alone, but he hopes to have many memories. Much love and warmth to take with him.

Yet this isn't meant to be sad - no, let us focus on the absolute joy he felt when his first child was born. A boy, his magic exceedingly strong despite his lineage. Even the elders were surprised at the magical prowess this child held. It was almost as if Malleus' nightly wishes for his child to be well, to be loved, to be healthy - taking every precaution to ensure you were well cared for during pregnancy, speaking blessings to your stomach in the dead of night - it all just manifested and out came the world's most perfect child.

A Draconia who would grow up with both parents. He'd be protected, nurtured, loved, and never ever alone. Some might call the King overbearing, making sure his spouse had a desk in his office and attending his meetings with a bright yellow baby sling over his chest. It definitely stood out against his royal attire but Malleus didn't mind.

In magic - there was also physical appearance. Being half-human, the child physically aged quicker than Malleus did in his youth. Yet he still retained the Draconia genes, with two curled scaly horns poking out above his forehead. He had no tail at birth, but around puberty many little scales began to poke their way through at his temple, back, wrists, and neck. No one predicted this since the Draconias have never reproduced with humans, but you tried to calm him with poorly convoluted jokes about ' fancy dragon acne'.

Yet according to Lilia, the boy looked like a near carbon-copy of Malleus once he sprouted up. His hair may have been kept shorter, slicked back, and he may carry himself entirely different from his father. Yet the look in his slitted-emerald eyes was exactly the same. His aura was the same.

And Malleus hadn't any idea how to handle that observation. Surely it was meant as a compliment. In the moment, he laughed and took it as one. Who wouldn't be prideful to see themselves in their child? Especially one so accomplished, growing into his scales with pride and eagerly stepping into his role as prince.

Except Malleus wouldn't, because the thought of his child sharing the feelings he had at that age? It unsettled him greatly. Perhaps one of his worst nightmares as a doting father.

“Father?”

Three sharp knocks echoed in Malleus’ study. He needn’t look up from his book, since the door opened with a thud without waiting for his approval.

Not that he minded - no, quite the contrary. He felt excitement building up at the first knock after all. There was only one person who it could be.

No one would dare impose on the Briar King during his downtime.

None had permission for such rudeness.

No one except his dear family, of course. Although as much as he wished for them to cling to his side and be a welcome reprise from his duties - Malleus was rarely afforded such a gift. His eldest son in particular conducted himself more as a knight or distant consultant than a loving son. Perhaps that came from leaving him in Sebek’s care - as much as his knight was ecstatic to become the first prince’s personal guard, his constant reverence to the elder briar ways likely left an impact on an impressionable child. Instead of bedtime stories, the little Draconia likely fell asleep to Sebek's long-winded lectures on the daily.

Back when he was a starry-eyed toddler, of course. Now the boy wouldn't dare let his guard down enough to sleep, even if his safety was guaranteed. Somehow despite Malleus taking every last precaution to rear a tranquil child, he raised a stickler instead.

“Hm? You look troubled, my son” Malleus met his eldest’s rare lack of decorum with amusement. He didn’t bother to hide a fanged smirk from him.

His son, who seemed to bristle in the doorway when under Malleus’ eye, clearly struggled to contain himself into the proper prince he was trying to be.

“Because I am troubled, father” he grit out, hands flexing at his sides. Sharp black fingernails pricking at his palms.

“Oh? And what seems to be the problem? You so rarely come to me with such matters” - to anyone who didn’t know the king, the sentence read as a bitter slight.

Yet it was merely a father sulking for his son’s attention, in his own prideful way.

“That’s precisely the issue,” his son huffed, “with all held respect, you cannot just drop in on my classes whenever you feel like it! It’s disruptive!”

Malleus merely turned the page in his book, “and whose fault is it that I had to resort to such measures?”

His question met a guilty conscience, and so he continued.

“What else am I to do? My child no longer behaves as my blood. He writes home giving stale reports as if he is one of my soldiers and bids his precious family far too few visits,” Malleus looks up from his ‘reading,’ and gestures to the uniform his son wears, “What else am I to do to see my precious son, other than visit his school? I was a student there once. Your headmaster wouldn’t dare to deny my entry.”

“Father - I understand your anger with my negligence but that is not an excuse for disrupting my classmates -“

“They looked quite please with my presence. I even supplemented material for your lecture -“

“They were scared beyond their wits! - And what of mother?! Surely she was against doing something so drastic! Think of our image! The King of Briar Valley cannot just casually drop his responsibilities whenever he so pleases.”

The boy’s composure finally cracked - and even for a half-blood, his power easily contorted the world around them if left unteathered.

Crackles of electricity buzzed across the study, flickering through a lit desk-lamp. As did the temperature lessen some degrees. Rather than be miffed by his son’s explosion, Malleus laughed in the face of it.

So this is how he must have looked during his moments of impulsivity. Hah.

“You’d be foolish to assume she didn’t try and come along. I thought to spare you her ire, as a mercy.”

At that, the lamp ceased it’s flickering to beam a steady light once again. The teen’s cheeks flushed a shameful color, so rare for one who prides himself more than any of his siblings.

"That was not necessary," he softened almost instantly. Even if she nearly committed the same 'crime' as Malleus, it seems favorites were at play.

"You know with certainty that it was."

A Draconia through and through. What was the term Lilia used? “Momma’s boy”? Considering that none disrespect the Queen - the King included - as her ire could strike the most sore spots of their family after all.

The boy pulled at his collar, out of arguments and simmered to displeasure rather than anger. He muttered an apology for losing his temper, and Malleus found himself wishing for the argument to continue just a bit longer.

After all, these were the times he felt most like a father, a husband, part of a family - rather than a king. He misses the early days when he was only the first three, before the council and other influences pushed his children to focus on responsibilities and their lineage.

“I’m sorry for not writing home…or visiting…I hadn’t thought it would trouble you. I simply - I thought it best to place distance between us.”

“Distance?” Malleus balked, “Distance from your family?”

He couldn’t understand why his child would want distance.

How could the boy he worked so hard to instill belonging within, whom he raised from egg to man, whom he would give up everything for - possibly say such a harrowing thing.

His own blood. His heart and soul. To spew such things in the face of ancestors who were bound to loneliness.

Whatever explanation for his manners didn’t matter so long as he was happy, but to intentionally want to be away from all Malleus thought worthwhile in life?

Never-mind. Malleus wanted the argument to cease. Indefinitely. And to tie himself to this desk for a decade or more.

“Yes, Father. Otherwise it is too difficult-“ he hesitated to continue, but one look at his father- whatever expression he might hold that couldn’t be contained despite his efforts - seemed to be the last push, “- being away. From my family. Leaving. I do not like it, but it is my duty. Coming home, hearing from you, mother, even the care packages I receive from grandfather! I can’t eat them but somehow just smelling the burnt food makes me falter! How can you expect me to preform up to our family’s standards, if I am homesick all the time!?”

It was the first time since he was a boy, clinging to Malleus’ legs, begging his parents not to leave him with his babysitters, that his son cried so openly. Malleus nearly gave in each time it happened too.

The pressure of royal duties, of perfection, on his shoulders was the same as those who came before him. Yet Malleus found himself more relieved than anything, even if his child might never recover his pride.

It was also the first time in many years that Malleus hugged his son, careful to avoid his growing blunted horns, and wasn’t pushed away.

“You are already doing more than enough. Loving your family is nothing to be ashamed of, and it is one of my greatest regrets that you thought otherwise for a single moment.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader

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shujichii · 4 months ago

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your husband who loved calling you his wife— even outside of moments of necessity.

and the most fascinating part? he wasn't even aware of the fact how often he did it. he knew he did say it, but he wasn't aware of the fact how often he did. those two words, simple yet undeniably laced together with love and reverence, often tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

"my wife would like these flowers," he had said to the wholesome elderly florist when he was about to buy a bouquet of your favorite flowers before returning home to you, his wallet— which had a small polaroid of you in it, by the way— already in hand.

"my wife did mention this the other day, now that i think about it." he had said to his friend who was rambling about the latest trending internet gossip.

"for my wife. i trust there isn't an issue?" he had simply said to the cashier upon noticing the way they lifted an eyebrow at the grocery basket filled to the brim with your favorite snacks, to which they gave a solemn, approving nod at his answer. good husband.

"my wife went out to run an errand, but she'll be back soon." he had even said to your best friend when they came to visit you, to which they replied with a very teasing smirk; "you could just say her name, y'know."

"my wife shouldn't pay when I'm around," he had said when you were about to pay for something, holding out his card before you could pull out yours.

"a reservation for my wife and i, please."

"sorry, my wife is waiting for me. i must take my leave now."

"yes, that's my wife— i'm quite proud of her."

"I can take it from here, sweetheart. can't have my beautiful wife overworking herself now, can i?"

and the list went on.

and yet, you didn't mind it. not at all— you had no reason to. your heart always did that funny little flip whenever he'd call you his wife the way he did, the corner of your lips never failing to curl into a smile. he would always say it so naturally— so genuinely, like those words were etched onto his soul for your very existence alone. and you certainly didn't miss the way his tone would sound a touch softer everytime he referred to you, like you needed to be spoken of with the utmost care and gentleness.

so, one day, you decided it was about time you struck.

"you call me that a lot."

his hands— which were reaching for the kitchen towel to dry his hands with after washing the dishes, yes, the dishes because chores are shared in this household— paused midway. he turned his head to look at you, where you had been perched on the counter, your legs swaying ever so slightly.

"call you what?" he inquired with a small tilt of his head, reaching for the towel at last and patting his hands dry.

"you know, your wife."

he immediately caught onto the teasing glint in your eyes, yet; it was unmistakably edged with a hint of affection.

for a moment, he just stood there wordlessly, blinking once, then twice, his brain taking its sweet, sweet time to allow your words to sink in. you, on the other hand, were practically straining your eyes to catch on any shifts in his expression or posture.

and then, you caught it; the faint reddening of the tips of his ears. he subtly cleared his throat, and your smile stretched into a grin.

alas, that dazzling curve of your lips disappeared as soon as it appeared when the man suddenly approached you in a swift few strides, standing between your legs and pressing his palms on either side of the counter which you sat on to cage you in.

you blinked.

"i do, yes."

he didn't even try to deny it. well, he didn't have a reason to. you were his wife, after all. where was the lie in that? and of course, he was absolutely proud of it.

then, he leaned in slightly, his tone lowering. "unless you prefer i stop calling you that?"

oh, now he was the one with that mischievous little twinkle in his eyes. inwardly, you faltered at the sudden boldness of his actions, your fingertips twitching against the surface of the counter. but outwardly? two can play the game.

then, with a deceptively sweet smile, you tilted your head, shot your hand forward and yanked on the collar of his shirt with force— his body jerking towards you.

"not at all," you smirked, inching closer. "i can't say i mind when my sweet husband calls me that."

his confidence faltered for a moment. you were about to internally celebrate your small victory until one of his hands slid up from the counter, now resting on your hips, his fingertips lightly pressing into your skin.

".. let's hear that again."

let's just say, ever since that faithful encounter, "my husband" had also started slipping out.

and every time? it got to him. oh, it definitely did.

(not my second fluff also taking place in the kitchen lol. i promise it's gonna be different next time.)

♡ nanami kento, geto suguru, fushiguro megumi (jjk), zayne, sylus (lads), wriothesley, neuvillette, alhaitham, diluc, ayato (genshin), jiyan, xiangli yao (wuwa), jugram haschwalth (self indulgence because i love him.), kuchiki byakuya, ishida uryuu, ishida ryuken (bleach), hyuga neji, uchiha itachi, hatake kakashi (naruto), anyone else you'd like.

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wttcsms · 8 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ adore me, mark your territory !!

ᝰ.ᐟ after having to endure locker room conversation since his blue lock days all the way up to his pro days, yukimiya realizes that if he wants to show you just how serious he is about his thoughts on his relationship with you, he needs to make his mark on you. ( fem!reader )

pairing kenyu yukimiya x reader word count 3.6k content contains corruption kink/innocence kink, loss of virginity (both you and yukki), first time, creampie, breeding kink, slightly manipulative!yukki, you two attended the same private catholic high school, mentions of purity culture, coercion, very naive reader, talks of marriage, dark(ish) content kinktober masterlist

To love someone is to know them.

You love Kenyu Yukimiya with all your heart; you know his hopes and his dreams, his fears and the tiny voice in his head that serves to either goad or encourage him. The two of you grew up together, attending all the same Catholic private schools up ‘til he went pro fresh out of high school graduation, and you decided to attend a tiny, private all girls university.

You know that he’s kind and funny, much more outgoing and adventurous than you. You know that he can be gentle, and that he chooses to always be gentle with you. You know that he loves you just as much as you love him.

But while distance makes the heart grow fonder, perhaps it’s the distance that has caused this newfound unfamiliarity between the two of you.

“Kenny, I don’t… I don’t understand.” You’re lying down on your painfully small twin-sized mattress in your dorm room. Kenyu’s on top of you, his body hovering over your own. He gives you that familiar, comforting smile of his as he asks you gently (your Kenyu’s always so gentle with you),

“We love each other, don’t we?”

“Of course we do.” You say softly. Your arms are by your side, and you’re playing with the frills on the oversized comforter of your bed. Your whole entire room still screams girl. Yukimiya finds it endearing; he finds everything about you so damn endearing. Your floral quilts, and the stuffed animals he’s won for you from claw machines and unfairly rigged carnival games. Your fluffy comforter, and the way you always love to wear dresses, even when it’s just to attend a lecture.

And your unwavering innocence.

Everyone knows that Catholic private schools aren’t as pristine as the parents of the students like to claim it is, but you’re the only one who remained devout. The only one who genuinely stayed true to the lessons taught. You didn’t drink, you didn’t smoke, you didn’t sneak out. The only parties you attended were birthday parties chaperoned by a trusted adult and held in the early afternoon. You always followed the dress code and never tried to get away with folding the waistband of your school-issued skirt to make it shorter, like some of the other girls did. Hell, Kenyu had to literally ask your father for permission to date you before he asked you out.

And while Kenyu’s always been on his best behavior, it’s not like he’s unaware of the world. He’s not naive like you. And that’s okay. One of you has to know enough to lead the other; Yukimiya’s more than happy that he’s the one taking on that role.

The thing is, Kenyu truly does love you. It’s why he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to force you to go further than what you think you’re capable of, than what you think you’re allowed to go. He ignores the hard on he gets every time you two make out, the way your hips sometimes move on their own, grinding against him with no thought to strip out of your clothes and let him finish. You’ve been together since the first year of high school, and now you’re in college, and he’s playing professional soccer, and he loves you, and he still hasn’t even seen your pussy. Honestly, his closest friends tell him he must be a saint.

But the talks in the locker room, the snide comments from his least favorite teammates, the jokes and the teasing and the mocking, condescending tones — gotta protect Yukki’s ears, can’t let him Mr. Private School hear this, as if he’d even know what we’re talking about; damn virgin — all of it is chipping away at his pacifist, mild-mannered demeanor, revealing the feral, greedy egoist that lies underneath.

You had been so excited to hear your beloved boyfriend was flying down to your college town this weekend, just to see you! Your roommate’s out on a holiday with her parents, leaving the dorm room all to yourselves. In your cute mind, this just means more room for the two of you to hang out.

For Yukimiya, it means he has no more obstacles to get in the way of him fucking you for the first time.

“And you know what two people who love each other do, right?” He’s still using the same pacifying, soothing tone he always uses when he’s trying to calm you down. When you skinned your knees and cried from the sting of the alcohol wipes used to clean the cuts, he had used this voice on you. When you cried at the airport because he was leaving the country to meet the team who paid an exorbitant amount to have him on their starting lineup, he had used this voice on you. Right now, you can’t understand why he’s using this voice on you. You’re not hurt; just confused.

“Kenyu, wh-what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about making love, [Name].” One large palm is rubbing up and down the smooth skin of your thigh. The movement causes the thin fabric of your sundress to rise up. Yukimiya’s never touched you down there before. You don’t know why his touch feels so good, but you do understand what he’s talking about now.

“But Kenny—” Your voice is reduced to nothing more than a nervous whisper, almost as if you’re scared someone is listening in. “—we can��t. That’s for married couples.”

Well, if it’s any consolation, Yukimiya’s always planned on marrying you.

He kisses your forehead, his hand never relenting from its position on your thigh. Your dress remains lifted up at an angle on one side. He can see part of your cotton panties; plain and white. If he moves his fingers up a few more centimeters, he could tug at the waistband of them.

“I know, sweetheart. But I’ve been thinking…” His hand travels from up your thigh to rest on your hip. The one side of your dress is now all the way up, and his thumb rests on the thin waistband of your panties, rubbing reassuring circles to get you to remain calm underneath him. “We’ll get married soon, anyway, right? I love you so much that I need an outlet to show you just how much I love you.”

“Married? Soon?” Your eyes widen. You find yourself daydreaming about marrying Yukimiya, starting a family. Yukimiya’s smile stretches wide across his handsome face. His sweet girl, he knew you’d be putty in his hands after he mentioned that.

“Of course.” He kisses you on your lips sweetly, his hand never leaving your hip. “And I want to give you all the love a husband has for his wife. Won’t you let me, [Name]?”

Kenyu’s always been handsome. You have a collection of all his professional photoshoots, and you know that he has a bunch of fangirls from just his looks alone. It’s so unfair of him, really, to give you that imploring look of his. You can’t say no to Yukimiya, and you think you never want to.

And so you do let him.

Kenyu’s quick. With the speed he normally reserves for on the field, Kenyu’s mouth meets your at the same time his other hand grips your neglected hip. Now both of his hands are bunching up the fabric of your dress, pulling the skirt up to reveal your simple, plain panties.

“Mmph.” You moan into the kiss. This is a bit different than what you two normally engage in; somehow, everything feels a lot heavier, headier. You can’t seem to think straight. All you can focus on is chasing after his lips, matching his hungry pace.

The heat radiating off the two of you is enough for Kenyu to separate from you momentarily. The lens of his glasses are fogged up, and he grins at you, satisfied at the progress you’re making, before taking his glasses off and setting them neatly on your nightstand.

And then he’s back to kissing you passionately again. You’re lost in the pleasure of his kisses, unknowingly bucking your hips up, not knowing why your body is craving friction, for some attention, down there. Your hands reach up to grip the front of Kenyu’s shirt, tugging at him, trying to bring him closer. You’re getting desperate, and he finds it so cute.

“Lift your arms up for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your lips, and your head’s too hazy for you to properly register his request. He repeats it, still as gentle as ever with you, and this time, you manage to comply.

“Fuck.” You don’t hear Kenyu curse often; he says it’s impolite to do so in front of his girl. He breathes out the word, and you feel shy all of a sudden as his eyes roam over your body. He tossed your dress to the side unceremoniously, and because the dress itself had padding, you decided not to wear a bra. You’re laying on your bed, nothing to protect your modesty besides your cotton panties.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. The only girl I see.” He praises you, and you don’t feel too shy anymore.

“K-Kenyu—” You look up at him, all doe-eyed and sweet. You’re pressing your thighs together, drawing his attention to the plush of your thighs, the way hiding in between your legs is your special place that only Kenyu will be allowed to see, to touch, to taste, to love. “What do we do now?”

He leans down, whispering in your ear in his familiar, kind voice, “Now, you lay down, and let me show you how much I love you.”

You love Kenyu so much, you think it should be impossible for your heart to have so much room for him. You know Kenyu must feel the same way, but never before has his love for you ever felt so overwhelming. Kenyu pries your thighs apart, forcing you to open your legs for him, but you didn’t know showering you in his love meant that he was going to take his fingers and rub against the mound in your underwear.

“W-wait, Kenny!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs, but he’s too big, too strong. He blocks the movement, keeps you nice and spread for him. “I—” You don’t know what to tell him, and you don’t know how to explain why there’s a tiny puddle gathering in the thin fabric of your panties. Sometimes, you feel funny and this starts to happen, usually after a long makeout session with your boyfriend.

“You’re so wet for me, [Name].” He almost sounds in awe, staring down at your covered pussy almost as if in a trance. The pace he’s using is rather slow; he’s content, for now, with just stroking his fingers up and down your covered slit, fascinated with the way he can watch you slowly drench through the cotton. The wet spot only continues to grow; he bets he can get his fingers damp with your arousal soon, and he wouldn’t even have to take your panties off to do so. “Do you always get this wet for me?”

You want to cry, and you can even feel the tears welling up in your eyes. He looks up, instantly stopping his ministrations, his concern written all over his expression. “Hey, hey.” He shushes you, peppering kisses all over your face. He’s not stroking you anymore, but his large hand is cupping your pussy, the heat of his hand encasing your special place. You’re practically throbbing against him, your cunt aching and hungry for his touch. He just has to get you to open up for him, to understand. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re supposed to get wet right here for me, you know that?”

You sniffle, unsure if he’s just placating you. “Really?”

“Really.” His smile is so gentle, his tone so soothing and reassuring. He’s back to grazing his knuckles across your cunt, enjoying the way the fabric keeps on getting damper. “It means your body is happy, and it lets me know that you love me as much as I love you.”

His other starts to tug at your waistband, dragging down your panties until he’s pulling them right off. His breath catches in his throat as he looks down and stares at your pussy for the first time. Your folds are glistening, your little clit peeking out at him, begging for him to suck on, to rub against.

“Cute.” He tells you, tracing a finger curiously against your slit, the tip of his index finger so close to entering your clenching, unbreached hole. “I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay, [Name]? Tell me, have you ever played with yourself down here?”

“Wha-?” You’re confused, appropriately so. The boys and girls were separated during sex education, but you remember your teacher drilling it into your heads that under no circumstances should a young girl ever touch herself. You had been confused at the time, confused as to why anyone would ever. You’ve been taught that only your husband should ever touch you right there. But Yukimiya loves you, and he’s going to be your husband, and now you’re starting to think you know why girls may want to touch themselves. You’ve felt this heat in between your thighs before, this mysterious hunger for something, but now you’re feeling it tenfold. You shake your head, too choked up to speak.

“No? Not even like this?” You don’t expect Kenyu to insert his finger. The intrusion is foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. Your walls instinctively clench around his digit, and he has to remind himself to breathe, to remain collected, to take things slow so you can enjoy yourself properly. “You’re clamping down on just one finger.” He breathes out, curling his finger, moving it against your walls. He brushes against a spongy spot inside of you, one that has you jerking up, a shocked, pleasured moan escaping from your parted lips. “That feel good?” He asks, before adding a second finger, both of them bumping against that same sweet spot.

Your legs feel like jelly, and you nod weakly. It does feel good. Too good. So overwhelmingly good that a foreign, euphoric sensation is taking over you. You can’t seem to control your body, and you can’t stop the flow of cute, pleasured mewls flowing from your mouth, and you manage to scream out a warning to Yuki. “S-something is—”

A clear stream of liquid spurts out of you, splashes onto him, soaks your cute comforter.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” Your walls are too sensitive now, but throughout the whole process, Yukimiya never stops thrusting his fingers in and out of your inexperienced cunt. His eyes are wide, but the gleam in them is sharp, hungry, calculating. “I didn’t even get a chance to mess with your cute little clit. You came just from penetration?” He finally removes his fingers, examining the way your juices are dripping off his digits. “You didn’t just cum, you squirted.”

You turn your head, trying to bury your face in a pillow so he can’t see the embarrassed and debauched expression on your face, but he takes his dry hand and forces you to continue looking up at him.

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart.” He coos, sucking at his fingers obscenely before releasing them from his mouth with a pop!. “It means you’re perfect and all ready for me.”

Kenyu knows that his cock is the first cock you’ve ever seen, and he’ll make damn certain that it’s the only one you’ll be seeing for the rest of your life. There’s no frame of reference for you to use, but you don’t think that men should be so big. When he frees his dick, making a show of squeezing tightly at the base and pumping it, showing off to you, you swallow hard.

He taps the head of his cock against your swollen, needy clit, teasing the both of you. He’s losing all sense of restraint, and even rubbing the underside of his cock against your glistening folds, trying to slick up his cock so it’ll be easier to glide into your soaked cunt, is enough to make him want to cum.

“I’m going to fuck you now, sweetheart.” His voice sounds strained, the gentle tone hanging on by a thread. “We’ll be making love for the first time. Aren’t you excited?”

You nod. Excited and nervous. His cock much larger than his fingers, and maybe he should have prepped you more, but you came so easily. He always knew you were perfect for him. Pleasure is so unknown to you, the tiniest taste of it is enough to take you out. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

He holds your hand and kisses you to distract you from the sting of his cock breaching your virgin cunt. You gasp into the kiss, pain registering in your mind first, but Yukimiya is quick to take your breath away, to swallow up any potential protests that might have come. He keeps on kissing you, his fingers intertwined with your own, and he’s pushing himself as deep as he can go. He only lets up from the kiss the second he’s buried to the hilt, and you greedily swallow up the oxygen you’ve been deprived of.

The feeling of a hard cock inside of you is foreign, but your body clings to his length. Unlike his fingers, with its dexterous ministrations that had you keening and squirting when he brushed them against a special spot, his cock fills you up, stuffs you full. Your cunt is greedily sucking him in, and when he whispers that he’s going to really start moving now, it’s not just one spot that he’s hitting.

You’re not sure what’s happening to your body, but it feels like Yukimiya is wringing out pleasure from you from every angle inside of you.

“Ah, fuck, you feel so good for me, sweetheart. Such a tight pussy, so wet, so warm.” The heat encasing his cock is nothing like he’s ever experienced before. The wet warmth of your pussy is so inviting, so intensely pleasurable, that Kenyu doesn’t think he’ll be able to last. Cumming so soon might be embarrassing, but it’s not. Not when it’s his sweet girl’s pussy that’s begging for his cum.

You wail out his name, your legs reflexively encircling around his waist, locking him in, keeping him close to you as you cum again. This orgasm is practically ripped out from you, your cunt way too sensitive, the repeated battering of his cock drilling into your hole too much for your inexperienced mind and body to handle.

“Kenyu, Kenyu, Kenyu!” When you say his name like that, it makes it hard for him to not immediately bust a load inside of you. Gone is the gentle expression from your boyfriend’s face; in its place is something feral, dark.

When he pulls out, he sees your white cream coating his cock. When he thrusts back in, he hears the lewd squelch of your wet, overstuffed pussy. It’s enough to drive a man insane with lust.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grunts out, and your head struggles to remain straight, to not loll to the side and let yourself be used. You look up at him, but your eyes are glassy and your mind seems to be in a far away place, so far gone, so fucked out. “We’re going to get married soon. So it’s okay if I get you pregnant right now, right?” His bare cock fucking your virgin pussy raw. He’s going crazy. “I’m gonna fill you up, get you all nice and bred for me. Make you my wife, make you a mommy.”

The domestic daydream makes you tighten up around him, even though your body is too weak to cum again. That’s alright. He’ll just have to cum enough for the both of you.

“Hang onto me, sweetheart.” And you do. Your legs are still wrapped around him, but you weakly raise your arms, holding him close to you. He starts pounding at your pussy, his unrivaled speed and strength turning you into mush. You have to dig your nails into the muscled skin of his back, feeling like you’re on the edge of a cliff, about to crash.

“Fuck, I’m about to put a baby in you, love. My sweet girl, my sweet wife.” He kisses you, messy and sloppy, and he stills. The aggressive thrusts stop, and you realize why.

There’s a new heat entering inside of you; hot spurts of his cum are pouring into you, and he only moves his hips a bit to plug you up further, to make sure none of his seed can trickle out of you.

You’re about to lose consciousness, your brain fried from pleasure and exhaustion. All you do is weakly mumble out his name before the world goes black.

You think if this is what making love is, you love love.

“Holy shit, Yukki.” Isagi gapes at his shirtless teammate.

Yukimiya glances up, about to pull his jersey over his head. “What?”

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Hm?” He asks, before turning to try to examine his back. Across the pale muscles are thin, red scratches, fading slightly from the time it’s been etched onto his skin by your nails. He smiles serenely, his mild-mannered attitude ever present. “Oh, this? My fiancee likes me close to her at all times.”

#kenyu yukimiya x reader #yukimiya x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #kanyu yukimiya x you #yukimiya smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk scenarios #drabble #one shot #imagine #smut #lemon #kinktober 2024

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nightingale-prompts · 2 months ago

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Phantom is so Moody-DCxDP prompt

"I don't even understand what I am. I'm a clone so I can't age. But what does it even mean to be a clone? I'm not 100% Superman but I'm still nit like him or Lex? I wasn't born like a normal person so does that mean I don't have a soul?" Kon ranted.

Danny the multi-dimensional godlike being the team had contracted into being their aid slowly shuffled from under his mountain of blankets and pillows and yawned.

"What are you talking about?" He drawled lazily. "Of course you have a soul.

"But I'm like artificially made in a lab." Kon retorted.

"And? So what? Are you telling me I'm wrong?" Danny challenged " Hey stupid, everything has a soul. You, your friends, animals, a tree, a fucking blade of grass, even a kid's toy. If it has energy it has a soul. I'm not talking metaphorically, I mean literally. Souls are a real tangible thing and I will eat your soul if you don't put some food on my sacrificial altar. Also, get therapy."

Kon much like the others had gotten used to Danny. He was mostly all bark and no bite.

As Kon headed to the kitchen to get the god his post-nap snack he heard Danny speak again.

"Also, you can age. Who told you that you couldn't? Age isn't anything but the slow decay of atoms. You are aging. You just aren't changing because your body is so new. Given enough years it'll start to show. Then you'll be no different from anyone else. Granted Superman's race also grows differently. You are so fucking dramatic. You are fine the way you are." The godling huffed, "Ancients, you guys are annoying. You treat existence like it's torture and you'll bearly understand how blessed you are to exist simply because of how un-ideal it is. Look shit sucks, it sucks most of the time but human suffering is caused by humans. You are torturing yourself with all these what-ifs and angst. Just stop caring."

Danny wasn't saying all this to be comforting. He rarely does stuff like that. If anything he was ambivalent to Kon. It still made him feel better though. One thing you could trust about Danny was that he was honest. He could even be helpful considering his job was to be a living encyclopedia of information from beyond the pale. He has always been an asset if you can wake him up from his days long naps.

****

"You sleep all the time." Raven complained.

The Titans were here this time. They needed something from Danny. Something about having to seal a threat away.

"Just death being shy." Danny mumbled curling up on his raised platform. "Now go away."

Raven pulled out a smudge stick of white sage when Nightwing silently held up a hand to stop her.

"Phantom, look we need your help. This issue needs your assistance. We just want info on how to seal this threat properly." Nightwing said.

"Ask Constantine."Danny whined back as he shuffled deeper into his blanket cocoon.

"Unfortunately he can't help. This is Darkseid—"

"WHERE IS HE?"

Immediately he was wide awake. You see there are few things to stir Phantom to his full attention. He isn't inactive out of pure laziness. He lets the hero do their thing and he helps when he thinks it's appropriate. But he will not let anything or anyone harm the planet

*****

"He really doesn't like people," Impulse whispered to Aqualad.

"I still don't understand how the Justice League managed to get in contact with him let alone sign a contract with him. " Aqualad answered.

"Flash said he was pretty easy to convince. Hell he said that Phantom was so docile he let Wonder Woman carry him around. Now he'll practically snap of your hand if you touch him."

"Emm...think about it he must have just been really weak back then. If he was injured badly enough maybe he—"

"Stop talking."

*****

"I still don't trust you. What is your game?" Raven said sternly.

A being with origins like Phantom couldn't really be helping them out of the kindness of his heart. What did he gain from this contract.

"You assume you are worth games."

"Were you sent by my father?"

"Your father, Trigon? That nuisance? A petty demon like that having any say over me? I'd crush him if I ever saw him. He claims to have conquered a billion worlds. That alone makes me want to destroy him. No one OWNS a world. If anything I own all worlds. No one touches my universe, all universes are mine. And if people would just stop touching my stuff I wouldn't be here." Phantom growled furiously.

"So you are just like him." Raven hissed in anger.

"Like I said. I own it. It is my domain. My realm. So no one can destroy it. No one can control it. I make it. Every star, every planet, every person is a product of chaos. It is the universal law. I keep my chaos in check. Trigon, Darkseid, Anti-Monitor—I don't care. If they touch what is mine I will destroy them."

"Anti-Monitor?"

Phantom curled his lip in anger then relaxed.

"He is someone you don't need to be concerned about. Not anymore." Phantom sighed. "Just know; I don't care what you think of me. I only care about keeping things the way they should be. I'd prefer if you didn't trust me."

Raven narrowed her eyes in thought before she relaxed. Then a small smile appeared on her lips.

"No. I think I can trust you."

Phantom immediately frowned. This wasn't the response he wanted.

"I think you are doing this on purpose. I think you want us to dislike you." Raven teased "Phantom do you perhaps have a heart?"

Phantom just sighed, his cheeks were greenish hue. He was blushing. Then went back to his dais to sleep.

****

Phantom was certainly a prickly guy. He was sweet deep down. Everyone could tell after a while. It didn't help that Wonder Woman always gave as good as she got.

"Answer the question Phantom. No cryptic riddles either." She said climbing the dias.

Phantom scrambled to escape as she grabbed him by the ankle and held him upside down.

"That's not fair! Kronos said I didn't have to answer this one. I have permission to tell you wherever I feel like."

"Oh? Then how about not having snacks on your offering plate? We'll burn nothing but vegetables until you tell me."

"How dare you! That's child abuse. You'll be starving me."

"You don't even need to eat."

"I still taste everything you burn. That's force-feeding. That's bad too."

"Just tell me!"

"Fine!" Phantom grumbled "Trevor Barnes...didn't pass over yet. He waits for you in the realms between. You shouldn't know that though. He doesn't want you to know."

"Why wouldn't he—"

"Because he wants you to live for yourself. He wants you to love again. You have a long life ahead of you and he didn't want to hold you back with his memory. Although he contradicted himself because he still wants you to think of him fondly."

Phantom phased through Diana's grasp and retreated to his lair.

****

Phantom was like a stray cat or maybe a spoiled one. He was wary of most people.

But even the most moody cat likes at least one person.

"Phantom I—"

"What do you need?"

Tim had entered the chamber only half expecting Phantom to be awake. Though Phantom was always awake when Tim entered. He guessed he was lucky since he didn't have talk to empty space.

"Eh, nothing. I got put on sacrifice duty. I brought some Bat Burger and cookies from home. I'm warning you now that Wonder Woman said you have to eat a serving of vegetables. So I'm burning them first." Tim placed the steamed vegetables on the offering plate and before he tossed them into the green fire he felt the cold hand of Phantom wrap around him.

"Don't." He said softly.

"It's just broccoli and cauliflower," Tim said still putting it on the electrum disk.

"Don't wanna," Phantom whined petulantly holding Tim in place. His head buried in his shoulder.

"You big baby." Tim sighed.

If anyone saw this interaction they'd be disgusted. The oh-so-great and moody god is l acting like a soft and pitiful little guy. Phantom seemed to have such a unique fascination with Red Robin. To the point he acts completely different if Tim was in the room.

"Two-faced." Kon mumbled as he watched Phantom readily answered Red Robin's every question without complaint.

"He's always like that," Tim said afterward " It's probably because I was the one to help form the contract with him when he was summoned here. The League treated him like a threat when it wasn't his fault he was here. He just wants to keep his distance but he is the same age as us."

"He is?" Kon asked astonished.

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #konner kent

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mercurial-chuckles · 1 month ago

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Witless Wednesday Thought

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Hot n Spicy Supersolider | Bucky losing his shit | Bucky defending you | Smitten Bucky | Smitten Reader | Language | Mutual Pining | Kissing | Happy Ending | Language | ~1k | Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: I was working on another story when this tiny one sucker-punched my flow of thoughts. I scheduled it for yesterday, but that didn't work out. Anyhoo, here ya go! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. GIF credits to the OP. Divider made by me. Check out my other works: Masterlist

Part of ♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Indulge Away!

You'd never seen Bucky so angry, so enraged.

As a matter of fact, you barely saw any other emotion flit his face except impassiveness.

Sweet heavens! He was the most devastatingly handsome man you'd ever seen, too.

Normally, you would admire him inconspicuously, just like you did every day when he walked through your part of the office. But you snapped out of your 'Bucky delirium' for Wyatt's sake, who was currently being throttled by the supersoldier against the shelves.

"You don't call her that," Bucky growled.

Holy Shit! It took you a moment to peel your eyes away from that bulging bicep and clenched jaw to make sense of the situation.

One moment, Wyatt thanked you for resolving the system layout issue, 'I knew I could trust you, dawg!' Wyatt said, and the very next second, you saw Bucky throwing him against the shelves. You didn't even realize Bucky was there. He was so fast it made you question your senses.

Bucky must have misunderstood. As much as he'd adapted, James Buchanan Barnes was still a man rooted in a different era. Modern slang still tripped him, you figured.

"Please," you pleaded hurriedly, unsure how to actually intervene.

Wyatt coughed, stunned, his feet dangling as he struggled in distress.

"Bucky," you said, scared out of your wits. He looked down at you intensely, and you quickly took a small step back when you realized how close you were. As much as you silently pined loved Bucky and had imagined him doing wild things to you with that very same rage on countless occasions, you were, very realistically, intimidated at the moment.

"Please, Bucky," you whispered.

Bucky seemed to snap out of his trance as he blinked, his expression still rigid. He released Wyatt, who stumbled and fell to the floor.

Wyatt crawled away a little. Bucky stepped closer and sneered down at him, "Apologize. Now." He warned.

As much as you enjoyed your friend's sense of humor, Wyatt was so out of his depth sometimes, and you were sure his penchant for saying inappropriate shit would be the end of him. Because after all that just happened, he wouldn't shouldn't have said "Are you serious?"

Wyatt was a personality, alright! You tried your best to look at Wyatt, but Bucky's tall, broad frame blocked your view.

Bucky chuckled darkly, crouching down in front of Wyatt, who was still sprawled on his ass.

"Take a guess. DAWG," Bucky growled.

This shouldn't be funny.

This really shouldn't be turning you on as much as it was.

Wyatt finally seemed to realize the issue.

Fucking finally!

You wanted to explain that what Wyatt said was just an endearment, but the basic functioning of your brain had been fused.

"Look… I didn't mean…" Wyatt started, his gaze shifting to yours, and you must have looked like a stunned animal.

For the love of God, Wyatt! Shut up and say sorry! You thought.

"I'm sorry," Wyatt finally squeaked, trying to push himself off the ground when Bucky leaned further.

Bucky gestured toward you, "Apologize to her," he ordered.

Your heart pounded wildly. You hoped to stay upright and not fall victim to your dancing nerves.

"Sorry," Wyatt muttered, looking at you, and you felt terrified for him too. The poor guy was freaking the fuck out, and all for what, being cool?

"It's alright," you mumbled awkwardly. If not for the very adult feelings currently coursing through your body for the six-foot-something supersoldier, the whole thing might have felt like Wyatt was being scolded for pulling your pigtails on the playground.

When Bucky rose to his full height, you expected him to dash off. But he didn't. He stayed rooted in place, eyes fixed on Wyatt.

Wyatt, however, finally managed to peel himself off the floor, and he bolted in a jiff.

Good for him.

Not so great for you.

You stood there trembling, flushed, and utterly confused.

Bucky slowly turned to you, and the intensity in his gaze caught you off guard. You awkwardly shuffled back, lost your footing, and staggered. He steadied you, metal arm circling your waist and pulling you forward into his chest.

Goodness, Bucky was tall! He was so strong, all muscle, and smelled divine. The urge to nuzzle into his chest made you blush even more. Luckily, a modicum of rationality still prevailed.

But his eyes were so blue and beautiful you couldn't stop looking into them. He didn't avert his gaze either.

Bucky tilted his head and moved closer, studying your face while your brain buzzed and your ears rang.

"You okay?" he asked, his breath warm against your face.

It was totally unfair for a man to look the way he did.

"You with me, doll?"

That nickname in his raspy voice had your lips parting. Reminding yourself to respond, you put some effort into nodding your head a couple of times.

Noticing his eyes shift to your lips, your heart picked up, and you bit on your lower lip, feeling the pulse thrumming in your entire body. His tongue peeked out, quickly proceeding to lick his lower lip.

What was going on? Were you dreaming? But if you were, why did it feel so vivid? You fully expected to wake up on your couch like yesterday, with the TV running in the background.

Bucky slowly stepped back, removing his hand and taking all your sanity with his retreating touch.

"I..." Bucky began, running his fingers over his stubble and licking his lips again. You couldn't help but stare. His lips were so damn pink, and you really, really wanted to kiss him.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Your brain needed rehabilitation from Bucky Barnes.

"Wanna grab a coffee with me?" he asked.

You heard the words coming out of his mouth, you did, but you didn't quite process them. You just kept staring at him.

When you finally noticed the shift in his expression, his face falling and eyes apologetic, you cleared your throat.

"Coffee? With me?" That was a dumb response, but that was what your self-deprecating self came up with.

Bucky nodded, quite expectantly and hopefully.

"Okay," you managed to say, offering a small smile.

Bucky sighed in relief. Then he smiled, all shy and adorable, and you bet you could faint just like that.

Charming bastard! He was gonna kill you with his looks.

"Thank you," he said, grinning wildly. He felt overwhelmingly everywhere around you. Bucky shuffled, rocking on his feet awkwardly before nodding at you curtly.

"Right. Umm…I'll be here at 5:15," he said, and you nodded, though a bit too surprised he knew exactly when you clocked out.

Bucky took a few steps toward the door, and you stared longingly at his retrieving form. He stopped, turned around, and looked at you for a whole minute. His gaze transfixed you. Bucky strutted toward you and pushed you against the wall, both hands cupping your cheeks, making you gasp at the feel of them, at the feel of him.

"Sorry... I just..." he breathed against your lips, giving you a millisecond of space to push him away--you didn't. Instead, you rose on your toes, hands on his chest. Bucky groaned softly, pressed a gentle kiss to your nose, then tilted your face closer and captured your lips, tasting, nipping. The rough stubble scratched your skin sensually.

And somewhere in the corner of your mind, it became clear that Bucky Barnes, an Avenger, had no reason to stroll through the Technical Analysts' floor except for you.

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

If you'd like to be tagged/removed from my works, please do so here.

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cece693 · 3 months ago

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Just something short I thought of—sad Bucky because he thinks reader is planning on leaving him or just doesn't love him anymore. Like, you're ignoring him (not on purpose), but that makes the man go down a spiral of doubts which leads to comfort. It's definitely shorter than my other works, but I hope you enjoy it!

Did I Do Something Wrong?

pairing: bucky barnes x gender neutral reader tags: sad bucky, misunderstandings, reader is just busy, I promise, comfort, fluff all the way, short little fic, might even be considered an imagine

Bucky tried not to let the little things get to him. The first time you brushed his hand aside, you’d been running on only a couple hours of sleep. After returning from a week-long mission, you were bone-tired—so you mumbled a distracted “Sorry,” shut your eyes, and promptly drifted off. Bucky told himself not to worry. You were exhausted, that was all.

But days passed, and the pattern persisted.

The next time he reached for you—lightly resting his palm on your waist while you scrolled through mission logs—you shrugged him off without a second glance. Then there were the mornings he woke up alone, the bed already cooling on your side by the time he blinked blearily at the clock. You were usually a late riser, but now? You were gone before the sun had fully climbed the sky. Sure, you’d told him you liked to get a head start on the day, to train or do paperwork, but it still left Bucky feeling abandoned.

And then there was Natasha.

Bucky had caught you and Nat in a quiet corner of the common room, laughing together, your heads bent in conspiratorial whispers. From a distance, it looked so intimate. He tried not to imagine the worst—he trusted you, he knew Nat was a close friend—but old insecurities, the remnants of a lifetime of trust issues, began to creep up. If you were distant from him, but so playful and close with Natasha…maybe your feelings had changed.

It all came to a head late one night when you finally tumbled into bed after a punishing day. Bucky was waiting for you, eyes filled with longing, an unspoken plea hidden in the furrow of his brow. You settled under the covers, practically collapsing into the pillows. You felt Bucky shift closer, his arms trying to wrap around your waist—but you were so groggy you hardly registered it. Without meaning to, you scooted away, giving yourself room to breathe.

It was enough to break him.

“Do I—” Bucky started, then swallowed hard, heart pounding. “Do I disgust you now?”

The sheer pain in his voice made you crack open your eyes. You squinted at him, your exhaustion making things blurry for a moment. His expression was drenched in equal parts hurt and fear. The exhaustion clinging to your brain cleared in an instant as alarm and confusion set in.

“Bucky,” you murmured, voice heavy with fatigue, “why would you say that?”

“I don’t know.” He let out a rough exhale and ran his metal hand through his hair. “You never let me touch you anymore, you brush me off, you’re gone before I wake up. Half the time, I see you with Natasha instead. I just—I can’t figure out what I did, and it’s killing me.”

Your heart twisted as you finally registered the desperation in his eyes. He looked so lost, like a man expecting the worst. Pushing yourself upright, you shifted closer until your knees bumped against his hip, your gaze locked on his.

“Bucky,” you said softly, leaning in to brush a thumb over his cheek. “I’m not—I would never want to push you away. I haven’t been avoiding you on purpose.”

“But you are,” he insisted, voice small. It cracked a little on the last word. “You keep brushing me off, you don’t let me hold you. I…I don’t understand.”

You inhaled, guilt gnawing at your stomach as you realized how it must have looked from his perspective. “I’m so sorry,” you breathed. “I’ve just been so worn down. Between missions, late-night meetings, and a sleepless schedule, I’ve been running on fumes.” Your hand cupped his jaw, urging him to look right at you.

“I wake up early because…well, I know how important rest is for you. With the nightmares and everything, you don’t always sleep that well, and I didn’t want to risk waking you. So I figured if I slipped out quietly, you could stay under for a few more hours, maybe get some real rest.”

He blinked, startled. “You—You left so I could sleep better?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice soft with apology. “You’re not disgusting to me. Far from it. I’m just so drained that half the time I don’t even realize I’m brushing you off. I’m on autopilot.” You sighed, pressing your palm against the place where his flesh arm met his shoulder. “As for Nat, we’re just close, like you and Steve. She’s been checking in on me, and I’ve been venting to her about mission stress. That’s all.”

Bucky’s posture loosened. You could see the confusion in his eyes giving way to fragile relief. Still, the ache in his voice lingered as he asked, “So, you’re not fed up with me? You’re not looking for a reason to leave?”

“No,” you vowed. “I love you. I’m sorry I made you think otherwise. I’ve just been overwhelmed—no excuse, I know, but I promise, it’s not you.” You gently pulled him closer, letting him lean against you. “I’ll always need you, Bucky. Never doubt that.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling the breath he seemed to have been holding for days. Quietly, he brought a tentative hand to your waist, as if checking if it was really okay to hold you. Instead of moving away, you leaned your weight into him, letting your body mold to his.

You pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’m still tired, but not too tired to show you how much I care.” Wrapping your arms around him, you rubbed slow circles between his shoulder blades, hoping to soothe his lingering fears. “Just let me make it up to you, okay?”

Bucky managed a small, wobbly smile, eyes burning with unshed tears of relief. “You don’t have to make up anything,” he murmured. “Just let me know what going on. Even if you have to leave in the morning, wake me up first. Tell me, so I know it’s not because you don’t want me around.”

A rush of warmth spread through your chest. “Deal,” you agreed, brushing your nose lightly against his.

With that reassurance hanging like a comforting blanket between you, Bucky allowed himself to settle into the bed, your arms wound safely around him. Soon enough, your shared warmth and the quiet of the night eased the frantic anxiety in his chest. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling that familiar scent that reminded him you were his—and that no amount of exhaustion or misunderstandings could ever truly sever the bond you two shared.

In the morning, you did wake him up, gently this time. You had a briefing in a few hours, but before you left, you let him know—forehead pressed to his, your heart full of affection. Bucky watched you go with a subdued smile, heart so much lighter than it had been before.

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neverendingford · 20 days ago

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#tag talk #idk. all the warning signs were there. the red flags were really obvious but I've never been smart enough to back out before making mistake #fifteen weeks is a long time to spend on a mistake but it was entertaining. it was educational. I had lots of new experiences so. worth it #calling it a mistake is disingenuous. it was an attempt. I tried for something I wanted. realized it wouldn't work and tried to back up #and then found out that the issues were fundamental cracks in the frame itself. so I'm pulling out and shutting down that direction.#and honestly? I've validated my own understanding of myself. I tried things I didn't think I would like and I found out I was right.#and I did things I know I already enjoy and yup. still right.#like.. I know what things I'll compromise over and I know what things I refuse to ever compromise over.#maybe that makes me an inflexible ass. but I know the way I want to live my life. I know that sub-optimal emotional environments stress me #so I'm not going to settle long term for any situation that compromises my emotional stability because lord knows I don't have much to spare #anyway. maybe it's my attachment disorder. but I have no issue making friends and then later unmaking friends.#if I don't emotionally benefit from a relationship why the fuck would I still pay into it? one way relationships aren't my jam.#and I would like to remind the court that I have in fact kept friends around through fights and disagreements.#my ex is one of my best friends and he's so cool and I love him lots. I'm not like.. entirely a self isolating self immolating disaster.#but I just.. ugh I click with so few people ever. how do people have more than five friends at once. must be built different I suppose.#maybe I'm just rigid and intolerant and toxic idk. I just. I don't know that I want to change.#I'm nice. I'm polite. but I'm not about to be vulnerable towards anyone I don't fucking trust or respect.#am I a bad person? am I bad at communicating? I know I have emotional issues. I know that for a fact. I'm not perfect by any stretch #I just.. I'm not built like other people. I wish I were. I wish I didn't hate 99% of people I interact with.#in a world with no consequences I would genuinely do horrible things to people simply out of disdain for them.#people are just. ughhhhh they're so inane and care about the dumbest shit and ughhhhhhhhh #people are insanely beautiful creative animals but also I want to cave in their dumb skulls with a large wrench #I miss my ex. internet isn't the same. we've started talking about flying him out here before the end of the year.#idk. I'm alive and if I'm stuck like that for the foreseeable future I'm gonna do things that make me happy because why else would I live?#I'm not gonna stay alive just to work my stupid fucking job and wish I could hang out with the people I genuinely love and care about #anyway. I'm rambling and ranting now so I'll stop #also. I keep seeing posts complaining about people airing out their inner thoughts. shit like “journal privately” and no I will not.#I'm alive and now it's your problem unless you block me. deal with it dumbass

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

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From hate to love… or something like that

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 15.7k (sorrrryyyy)

warnings: arranged marriage, hate-to-love, mentions of rape, mentions of incest, mentions of suicidal thoughts, drinking alcohol, mommy issues, daddy issues, mentions of sex without love, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), porn with plot (but something cheap, tbh) and I probably forgot something but I think that makes it clear that this shit is not for minors, so MINORS DNI :)

A/N: I started this since the second season premiere started so if you find any canon-like scenes I completely promise it wasn't intentional. I also want to make it clear that you are responsible for what you read and if you don't like something please just let it go, that would be very kind of you!

And this doesn't make me team green at all, I'm a defender of the rightful queen to the death… it's just that her brother is too sexy to ignore 🫦

Enjoy!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @barcelonaloverf1life @ilovequeen978

FIRST ACT: HATE

Finding a wife for Prince Aegon II was probably one of the most difficult tasks Alicent Hightower had to face.

The engagement with his sister Helaena had been broken after a more tempting offer for the princess, which would get them a permanent alliance with the Lannister house that they couldn’t refuse. Viserys himself had agreed to accept and the queen consort had no choice but to give her little daughter in marriage to a blonde lord. The problem was that her son was left without a fiancée.

Aemond didn't worry her, after all he was growing up quite quickly and she knew that he was more inclined to become a warrior than to fulfill his marital responsibilities. But Aegon, however, was a lost cause.

It was no secret that Alicent had always felt disappointed in her eldest son. He was careless, lazy, and a hopeless alcoholic, qualities that couldn’t be celebrated at all. Now that her beloved father had returned, the queen didn’t hesitate to consult him on the matter, hoping that the man had a solution for the problem that afflicted her, and together they analyzed what was the best option to unite the king's first-born son. Especially after, years ago, Rhaenyra and Daemon got married and moved to Dragonstone indefinitely.

“It must be someone we completely trust, someone who cannot dare to hurt us because they know that their blood is linked to ours.”

The Arryns were loyal to the future queen Rhaenyra and some of the houses south of Vale were too. The Westerlands was the richest section of the Seven Kingdoms and was already secured, so it seemed prudent to the king's hand to go for the next widest section: The Reach. The most formidable options within this area were the Hightower and the Tyrell. Obviously taking the first option would be a waste since the members of that house would support Aegon without complaint due to their kinship, so the decision was made with the direct heir of Highgarden.

King Viserys agreed to the idea without putting up many obstacles, since poppy milk clouded his judgment most of the time and also the affairs of his first son had never interested him much.

The union was sealed as soon as the deal was offered to Lyonel Tyrell, who was extremely happy to be able to assure his family a future with said marriage. It was thus that he gave you, his only daughter, to Prince Aegon II Targaryen.

And the second the boy saw you, he absolutely hated you.

He had come to the idea (very unpleasant, by the way) of marrying his younger sister and now that his mother was forcing him to marry a complete stranger, he couldn't be angrier. In a short time he would turn twenty and it seemed pathetic to him that at that point he would have to offer shows like those before the kingdom. Because the wedding wasn’t simple, of course, but thousands and thousands of guests were present at the banquet that Alicent forced the king to prepare, claiming by saying that he had done the same for Princess Rhaenyra's wedding.

“It is a pleasure to finally see each other, your grace. They have told me a lot about you”

You had said those precise words the first time you had met, when his mother organized a walk so that you could 'get to know each other better', although supervised by her own eyes that were behind you, making sure that her son didn’t commit any indecency. But no matter how sweetly you smiled and spoke them, Aegon could sense that you were lying.

There was hatred in your eyes and a clear resentment towards the life from which you were torn, as if it weren’t an honor to have the opportunity to marry the prince of the seven kingdoms. Your hypocritical words represented an insult to the boy and that is why he decided from the first moment that he would hate you deeply.

With your mere existence you would have deprived him of his freedom, his entertainment, his youth. He would be tied to you for future occasions, he would have to take you to all the events, secure your food, your clothes. share the same roof and pretend to be nice to you in the eyes of others. And, besides, he could have thought of a lot of candidates better than you, physically speaking. Your beauty was quite ordinary for his taste, as if he were looking at any painting; cheap and repetitive.

“I regret to admit that I am not so fortunate, Lady Tyrell. But I am happy for the union of our houses” he lied, in the same way that you had done.

And it was obvious that this didn’t go unnoticed by you, that you had the same critical eye as your recent fiancé but that you sought to maintain composure in the presence of your future mother-in-law.

On the wedding day Aegon had a good time only because he was able to drown himself in monumental quantities of liquor and because he was able to eat as much as he wanted of the exquisite banquet. He didn't even pay a bit of attention to how you looked in the wedding dress that the royal seamstresses had been in charge of making in record time, because when the time came he flattered you superficially and then ignored the matter. The ceremony kiss was the first you shared, and it was so fleeting and awkward that the prince felt disappointed. On the wedding night he was so drunk that he didn't even look at you.

You knew that the unfortunate day would come when you would have to carnally please the young man and the simple thought of being defiled in this way caused you terror and nausea in equal parts.

It was a stranger whom you had married, of whom the only thing you knew was his noble title and name.

In the days following your marriage, unfortunately or fortunately, Aegon didn’t even speak to you. You didn't have to share a room, so it was easier for him to completely ignore you while he went about his ways.

You had to admit that the only good thing about having taken this trip was the beautiful landscapes that King's Landing offered you. Your room had a direct view of Blackwater Bay and you spent several days looking out the window at the beautiful sea. Sometimes you could watch Prince Aemond ride his dragon, and honestly, the size of the beast scared you a little. You hadn't had the chance to observe Aegon in Sunfyre yet but if he was as impressive as Vhagar, then he would be quite a sight.

A week passed, then another and another where you were nothing more than a guest in the palace. You didn't talk to anyone, you ate dinner alone, you barely saw the outside of the castle. Sometimes you went to the Sept, pretending to pray, but really just killing the endless boring hours of the day. You were somewhat lucky if you found Helaena, the most sensible and calm within the royal family, because you had pleasant conversations with her. When you met the queen it was a little more difficult, because she asked you endless questions in which you had to fake the answers. How could you be fulfilling your parenting responsibilities if the capricious prince wouldn't deign to lay a finger on you?

After a month, Alicent seemed to take matters into her own hands and forced her eldest son to take you to sleep in the same room as him. However, Aegon seemed to want to blame you for something you hadn't chosen. He never spoke to you and every time you went to bed, he would stand with his back to you as far away as possible. And as if that weren’t enough, he had explicitly ordered his guards not to allow you to leave the room unless it was in his company. It was his way of punishing you, of getting even for the complaints of his mother and grandfather regarding his lack of interest in marriage.

“My mother wants us to attend a dinner tonight” you were so unaccustomed to hearing his voice addressing you that it took you a second to process what he was telling you “I will talk to the maids to bring you a suitable dress.”

You didn't know what to say. You didn't want to go to that dinner, nor did you want to be with him, or wear one of those tight, annoying dresses. Aegon, noticing your silence, deigned to look at you and in your eyes he could see the aversion you felt for him. It was something difficult to mask and he had seen it on so many faces that it was nothing new.

“As you wish, prince.”

A bitter laugh came from your husband's throat.

“Don't be a hypocrite, for God's sake. I know you hate me as much as I hate you. Save appearances for guests, not in the chambers."

You wouldn’t have had the courage to admit out loud what his majesty had said, but you didn’t dare to contradict him either. You had to play the role of a self-sacrificing and suitable wife for the man if you wanted to keep your honor, but above all your head.

You tried, with all your might, to see some quality in Aegon that you liked so that you could treat him in a better way, which always resulted in something useless. Perhaps if he had been nicer to you, you could have known how to forgive his faults, but even that wasn’t granted to you.

The dinner was mostly family-oriented, with the guest of honor being from House Baratheon whose purpose was to discuss some political matters with the king and queen. Due to his health, Viserys didn’t usually leave his room more than necessary, however, that night the occasion warranted it.

“Lady Tyrell, how is your stay in King's Landing?”

The king had a reputation for being gentle with his guests and was the first person to ask you a personal question, so the smile you showed him was genuine.

“Very pleasant, your grace. The servants treat me as well as possible and I must admit that the views from my room are beautiful. Your dragon is impressive, Prince Aemond, by the way.”

The boy, who wasn't all that expressive, just looked at you for a moment and tilted his head down slightly.

“I'm glad you like it, princess.”

"And my son? How is our Aegon treating you?”

That question was more complicated to answer, since it required expressing a lie. Everyone present focused their attention on you, except your husband who had been staring into nothingness for a long time.

“Very well, my king. He’s a good husband and I am happy to have been able to unite our houses.”

The aforementioned snorted, incredulous at what you were saying at the table, and took a long drink from his glass of wine.

“And I hope very soon you can give us strong and beautiful heirs.”

Although that was intended as a compliment, you felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on you again.

“I wish the same. It will be an honor to serve the crown and bear the progeny of a house as formidable as yours."

The queen was pleased with your answer and for a moment felt sorry for you. She knew her son well, so deep down she knew that it wasn’t a gift from the gods to be married to him. The rest of the table looked at you curiously, wondering if you were serious, trying to be ironic, or just trying to play the good girl role.

Aegon, as expected, became intoxicated during dinner and when Queen Alicent announced that she was going to retire to sleep you thought it prudent to do the same. Your husband, however, had other wishes.

“Stay here,” he asked, his voice serious.

When he was drunk he looked you up and down, probably evaluating how worth it would be to decide to strip you naked and fuck you once and for all. Your body in the dress you were wearing looked better with a few drinks on him.

“I think it would be best to retire, my husband. This way you can stay with the men to chat and… drink”

“But I want you to stay here to keep me company,” he insisted, holding your wrist tightly “Or don't you want to please your prince?”

It wasn’t a loving request, but one for control. He wanted to have you there only to demonstrate his power over you, without paying attention to you or talking; only as an ornament.

“Aegon, enough,” Alicent interrupted, observing the scene that had begun to unfold. “Daughter, let's go to sleep. “I will accompany you”

“Fine, do whatever you want,” he spat contemptuously, abruptly releasing the wrist that was holding you. There was hatred in his eyes, but also pride.

The queen said goodbye to everyone present and then offered you her hand to take you away from there. You spent most of the way in silence, walking through the long, wide corridors of the fortress followed only by the faithful footsteps of Ser Criston Cole.

“You must be patient with him” he began to say “He is a particular man and sometimes… difficult, but I know that with your docile character you will be able to deal with his temperament.”

What did she know about your character? She didn't know you at all.

“So it shall be, Queen Alicent.”

“I understand what you are going through, dear. We both come from the same lands to endure the difficult task of accompanying a monarch. But it is our duty to carry it out with all the honor and temper worthy of our homes. Of course, I can trust that as a woman you will be able to help him fulfill another of the most important marital commitments, such as having children, to maintain the lineage and blood. For a virgin like you, Aegon may be rough, but... patience and resilience are among the best virtues. A woman in royalty must endure these things to give the best to the people.”

You had never wanted to be a princess. And just when you thought the queen was showing you compassion, you realized that she was only looking out for her interests and those of her family.

"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind"

She smiled and immediately left a kiss on your forehead, which could have been taken as a maternal kiss but which you didn't like at all. The longer you can postpone suffering, the better. If Aegon didn't even want to look at you, it was perfect.

That night, as soon as you touched the mattress and the silk sheets that decorated it, you began to cry until you fell asleep.

SECOND ACT: CONTROL

Time passed again and although the punishment of not leaving your room was not revoked, you found multiple activities with which to entertain yourself in the prince's absence. You filled your mornings and afternoons with reading, writing, knitting and embroidering. The nights were even more boring because most of the time your husband wasn't there either.

Rumors that you hadn’t yet consummated the marriage had spread through the halls of the palace and soon the smallfolk would murmur too. After all, the people couldn’t entertain themselves with anything more than the gossip and the plays that were going on in the poor neighborhoods, making fun of royal affairs.

You no longer even had the energy to deny those accusations and Aegon had given you the perfect opportunity by throwing you out of his room and refusing to leave the four walls of yours: if you didn't leave there, there was no way anyone would question you. And since you didn't have family inside the Keep, you didn't have any visitors either.

One night, however, your husband surprised you by entering your room. It had been days since you two had seen each other and his staggering around the room warned you that he was drunk again. You often wondered how he resisted drinking so much and the long-term effects it would have on his health, but right now your mind could only focus on the fear of what he might want in that state.

“Good night, dear,” he drawled, sounding as sarcastic as possible.

You were in your nightgown and you were carrying in your hand an old book that you had been reading and that you threw on the nightstand as soon as you saw him approaching you. You didn't have time to say or do anything else when he had already approached you in giant steps to grab you by the back of your neck and start kissing you. He was abrupt, careless, with his mouth smelling of wine and tasting even worse. You wanted to cry from helplessness.

“It's what everyone wants, isn't it?” he murmured, separating himself from you, but still holding you by the hair at the back of your neck. “A marriage arranged in a couple of days to form alliances. And that's it, my life was ruined thanks to my father wanting your stupid castle to expand his domain."

The truth is that couldn't be further from the truth. Viserys’s ambition had never been that, as he had been so little involved in the process that he simply didn’t care who his children were or were not married to. Except for Rhaenyra, of course.

Aegon continued:

"I didn’t want this. I didn't want to marry you, or anyone..."

“And you think I do?” you confronted him.

You were tired of the insult, the humiliation and him ignoring you as if you were worthless; even if that was what a husband did. And the most likely thing was that your words would be forgotten due to alcohol or that they would put an end to the wait for your suffering to begin and Aegon decided to take you once and for all.

“You have nothing to lose, prince,” you continued. “You get drunk as much as you want, you run away from your responsibilities and walk everywhere when I have to stay locked up here all day just because you want me to. I have to endure the suspicious looks of everyone because I still don't have an heir in the womb while you go and fuck your whores."

“I'm the prince and I fuck whoever I want, did you hear me?” he hissed. The grip on your hair had already begun to become painful and a few tears slipped down your cheeks “And I stop fucking whoever I want too. I'm not going to please anyone by getting you pregnant. There they will see if they come and force me to put my cock in you”

“Do you doubt that, your grace?” you exclaimed bitterly “Doubts that will force us to conceive?”

“So that's what you want? Do you want me to do it?”

“I want to go home. That is what I want. But my father used me as a bargaining chip and that's why I can't do anything."

“I'm sorry it was like that. If I had chosen my wife, I would surely have chosen someone prettier and more educated than you, but I can't do much either."

Once again, the man pushed you until your lips joined his and the same discomfort settled in you. He didn't kiss you with love, but with fury and violence to the point that you had to push him away when he bit you so hard that a trickle of blood began to come out of your lower lip. Aegon was also stained by it and with an acidic smile he ran the tip of his tongue all over his mouth to remove any traces.

Looking at you he didn't look happy, but he didn't look angry either. He just seemed fed up.

Everyone knew, or suspected, that the prince was very capable of taking sexual advantage of any woman. He had done it before with maids and prostitutes and had slept peacefully throughout that time. However, there was something about you that encouraged him not to. He didn't even think it was something about you specifically but about the situation, because he wanted to do the opposite of what he was ordered: if everyone ordered him to take you to have an heir, it automatically became an unpleasant act and at the same time that he refused.

He was hurt, not because of you but because of years and years of abuse and neglect. He didn't really know you at all, he only knew what you represented.

You were just the unlucky one who had married him.

"I hate you. I hate that you are my wife and you are not worthy of me even touching you” he snapped with disdain. You were still fighting to keep the tears inside your eyes and his vision had also blurred slightly “I wish I had never met you.”

“The feeling is mutual, your grace,” you expressed, your voice breaking. If it was an offense to the crown, you wouldn't even care anymore and if he killed you right there you wouldn't regret it too much either.

Aegon looked at you one last time before staggering back out the door without another word, closing it behind him with a loud gesture and leaving you alone in the room. The reality that you had escaped, once again, from being raped by the man fell on you like a bucket of cold water and your knees weakened until you fell to the floor.

You were hurt, tired, and defeated by the stress of the situation and the fear that had washed over you the entire time. Luckily he was gone, otherwise you didn't know if you would have endured what he had to do to you. It was better to have him busy in a brothel than to have to endure him in your bed.

You wished you could talk to someone and cry on a loved one’s shoulder, only to realize a second later that that was impossible. Aegon was your new family, now you belonged to the Targaryens and you would have to do as they wished.

Anger completely overwhelmed you to the point where you stood up from your seat and began throwing pieces of glassware all over the room, in a violent outburst at what had just happened and the way you felt. None of the guards outside your door dared to come in to check on you and soon enough you fell back to the ground, exhausted from the effort.

As you cried, perhaps for the umpteenth time since you had been married, you thought about how you would never be able to love Prince Aegon. Not even if you tried.

THIRD ACT: PAIN

After months, the inevitable arrived. The truth was that the first time you felt sorrow and anger, but the following times it became more tolerable. Not because it was better, but because you began to get used to it. Aegon didn't change his attitude towards you one bit. You indeed spent more time together, although that didn’t mean that you got along better or that you had begun to have more sympathy for each other.

The only advantage was that you had started to be friends with some people in the palace. Your sister-in-law, to begin with, as well as some of the maids who were in charge of looking after you, as they turned out to be your only company during those days. Those distractions were more than enough for you, considering the situation you were in, and they kept you sane as time went by.

Almost like a punishment from heaven, it seemed that you weren’t pregnant yet, since your biological processes seemed to continue working to the letter. That meant that, unfortunately, you would have to keep trying; when Aegon was lost enough to forget who you were and you had to stand still as a statue to let him loom over you.

You often liked to imagine what your life would have been like if you had stayed in Highgarden. Nobody knew it yet, but there you had found your first love and although it never went beyond a few kisses, you treasured the memory with particular affection. You had always wanted to marry a sweet man who loved and respected you, who would give you your place as a wife and adore you day and night; someone with whom you could feel protected, cared for, but above all happy. You thought, naively, that that boy you had met and who was nothing more than a commoner could have given you that life, but all those possibilities were nothing more than fantasies in which you tried to lock yourself in to feel less miserable with your unpleasant reality.

One night Helaena had invited you to a modest dinner in her company that you couldn't refuse, since none of your husbands were present and some time with friends could clear your mind. You didn't even know where the prince was, although it was expected that he was spending some time in the town with his friends.

“Sometimes I feel sad about our situation,” said the blonde. You were in the privacy of her chambers, not even with the maids present, so confessions like that were allowed “But I am happy that you are my friend, something that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.”

“I'm glad to talk to you too,” you smiled sincerely. “You're the best thing I've found around here.”

“My brothers aren't that bad, they're just… well, we've had a hard life. And that's why they behave like that."

“I think there is no justification for being a…” idiot, you wanted to say, but you had to remember that you were in the presence of the princess, “a person who is rude to others. But I guess that happens with royalty, right? They do what they want without consequences”

"I guess so. Kings, princes, the heirs, lords, dukes…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laughed bitterly “It's probably a masculine quality.”

You never thought your sister-in-law would have that kind of humor and to be honest, most of the time she was a comic relief for the situations you two were going through. Sometimes her prophecies scared you, especially the way she phrased them, but you wanted to think that her premonitions would never affect you directly.

When you finally got tired of chatting and the food was finished, you decided to return to your room, so you could have a peaceful night's rest. It was raining outside and thunder echoed in the distance, making the atmosphere slightly gloomy, but at the same time cooling every corner of King's landing.

The novelty of your position was no longer important enough to require you to be escorted by guards twenty-four hours a day, so you were able to slowly walk through all the corridors that led to your sanctuary. It was modest but cute, although not on the level of Aegon’s.

A man was guarding the door and you bowed your head to him to let you pass, which he did without any opposition. Once inside you got rid of your shoes and unbuttoned your corset, not caring that the room was almost in darkness; only the moonlight illuminated from the window. You took a few steps forward and squealed when you discovered that there was another person in the room, sitting at the small table with a drink in his hand. You would have started screaming for help if you hadn't noticed that said intruder had silver hair falling like a curtain over his face.

"Your grace?" you asked cautiously.

It isn’t usual for Aegon to drink in your room, as he preferred other places with more interesting company, and when you didn’t receive an answer you approached slowly. You thought that at best he had simply fallen asleep and at worst he would be dead.

At first his long, wavy hair covered your view of his face, but when he noticed your presence he raised his head and then you could see him. His features became clearer as lightning illuminated him from the outside and for a second you were horrified.

His cheek was red and a trickle of blood was dripping from his nose, however, what surprised you the most was seeing his eyes completely swollen.

“For the seven, I… I'll go call a maester”

“Don't even think about it,” he exclaimed hoarsely, seeing that you were already rushing towards the door.

Your husband didn't sound like his usual angry tone, but rather he seemed... hurt.

You thought for a second about what the appropriate reaction to the situation was. You couldn't leave the room because, in addition to the guards murmuring, it would be impolite to leave him in that state; also, where would you go? If you ignored him, he would probably take it as an insult and he had already made it clear that he didn't want to see someone who could take care of those injuries.

You hated him, it was true, but you weren't an insensitive monster either.

"Who did this to you?"

Aegon was surprised by how soft, even kind, your question sounded and the intoxication gave him some courage to answer.

“My mother and my grandfather. Mostly my mother, my grandfather rather dedicated his efforts to reminding me how useless I am”

You didn't know what to say. You never believed that the queen would be capable of hitting one of her sons like that. You didn't believe it from any mother, actually.

With some trepidation you took one of the chairs and placed it in front of him, expecting him to immediately push you away or ask you to get out of his sight. However, the prince didn't seem to have enough energy to do any of those things.

He had a lost look on his face and tears began to run down his face.

“Nothing… nothing I do pleases her. Neither to her, nor to my grandfather. All the time they are pressuring me, demanding me, yelling at me. Apparently Otto still hopes that my father will name me king, but I've never wanted that. They blame me for drinking all the time and how do they expect them not to? My father cares so little about me and my mother hates me. All his life he has hated me. She does it, my brothers… and so do you. My own wife hates me. Everyone… everyone who knows me does it”

You were silent for a moment.

There were mixed feelings inside you, because you couldn't forget the mistreatment that the man had given you during those months, nor the way he used you for his pleasure. He was right when he said you hated him. However, there was a compassionate part of you, deep down, that felt sorry for the man's state.

“And sometimes I just want to be dead. I just wish all the shit would go away and drowning in alcohol and dying would take away Alicent's problem and allow her to focus her attention on something better”

His gaze lifted and he looked at you with crystallized eyes.

“Maybe you should poison me one day. So your suffering would also end”

“Your highness, I cannot do that”

“But would you like it? Do you hate me enough to wish me dead?”

“Of course not,” you said quickly.

"Liar. You lie like everyone else. You want me dead”

You knew that saying something negative at that moment, in the state he was in, could result in him making some incoherence that you would be blamed for the next morning. So it was best to act cautiously.

“I don't think anyone wants that”

“My mother does. My father, Rhaenyra does it, and so does her stupid new husband…”

“Your grace…” you interrupted him harshly. Listening to him sink into his self-indulgence was too much to bear “You better go to sleep, don't you think? Now you're not thinking clearly, you'll feel better in the morning."

But Aegon seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to anything you had to say to him.

“I guess I just wish someone wouldn't completely detest my existence, you know?”

Aegon had done terrible things to you, of course, but seeing him at that moment made you wonder if all of this was the product of poor parenting and psychological abuse that had been perpetuated for twenty long years. You couldn't say your father loved you, not after what he had done, but at least he hadn't constantly hurt you as the man in front of you had. You knew better than anyone that hate had to be healed with empathy and for a brief moment you felt soft for him.

Once Aegon was a small child, without sins, without accumulated hatred, without evil... and apparently that frightened child hadn’t been completely buried, because it was him who cried inconsolably and saw death as a viable alternative to end that suffering. However, there is no redemption without guilt, right? You don't get to heaven without first repenting.

You stayed silent for a long time, listening to him sob, and when you gathered the courage you spoke:

“Prince, can I be honest with you?”

You had spoken in a low and benevolent voice, while you slid from your chair until you were kneeling in front of him. The boy didn't even want to take advantage of that position for a sexual act, he was simply too tired and drained to think. You placed your hands on his knees and seeing that he nodded, you continued:

“You say you wish someone wouldn't hate you, but have you ever made an effort to do so? Or have you even wondered why people feel that way about you?”

“It's something natural for them”

“I didn't feel it,” you said, honestly. You hated the idea of getting married out of obligation, but if he had been different from the beginning maybe your feelings for him would be too “And you made me feel it. With your contempt, your humiliations, your punishments…”

“If everyone thinks you're a monster, what's the point of contradicting them?”

“And then you prefer to agree with them?”

You were probably taking too many liberties with the prince, but you would never have a chance to talk to him like that again. He was vulnerable and therefore less defensive than normal.

“Every person is responsible for their actions,” you continued. “You can't change how the queen or king feels about you, but you can choose to offer something better to others. If it’s your desire that people not hate you, that won’t happen overnight just because you tell it to. It takes time, effort and above all it requires kindness. If you live regretting the concept that people have of you, without doing anything to change it, then you will live a lifetime of dissatisfaction. If you seriously want someone to feel happy about your existence then pursue that goal, don’t expect it to be granted to you as a divine work.”

A deeper cry began to well up from the man and you almost thought he would lean down for your hug. Still, he didn't.

“I don't know how to be someone else. I have always been this”

“Not always, that's for sure. Water that stagnates rots and becomes a swamp. The one that runs, on the other hand, becomes a river and flows into the ocean.”

You raised the handkerchief you always carried and, in an act of kindness that was also intended to be an offering of peace, you gently wiped the tears and dried blood from his face. Aegon squirmed as he had never experienced that kind of care.

“You just have to ask yourself: what do you choose to be?”

For an endless moment he watched you. His judgment was clouded by drunkenness, but he wondered if he wasn't hallucinating and you were simply the voice of his conscience telling him something he had never wanted to accept.

It was easier to blame others for his mistakes, to justify himself by saying that everything about him was his mother's fault and that if he behaved the way he did it was only a defense mechanism. Aegon had never thought about how his treatment of women was a direct consequence of Alicent's upbringing: if his own mother had hurt him, why wouldn't other women do the same to him? And since he was convinced that they were all going to do it, he preferred to turn them into objects that he could use for his benefit.

He was so drunk and so exhausted from all the crying he had shed that he simply pushed your hand away from his face and stood up from the chair, without saying a word. You, now standing, saw him begin to undress and the first thing you thought was that he would seek to heal his sorrows by having sex with you. However, he only got rid of the essentials and then lay on his stomach on the bed. Without any choice, you took off your clothes for the day, put on a nightgown and also lay down on the mattress to sleep.

You were sure that the next day Aegon wouldn’t remember anything and you weighed the possibility of the whole story repeating itself, in an endless and painful loop for the two of you. And if you were right, it would be a shame if you had to live like this for the rest of your days.

FOURTH ACT: REDEMPTION

“Do you know where Meryna is?” you asked one of the maids who had come in to change your bedding.

“No, your grace”

“I'm starting to get hungry and she still hasn't brought my breakfast,” you exclaimed sadly.

You had woken up a while ago and had gotten dressed to go for a walk after eating, to see if this would cheer you up a little. It had been a few days since Aegon had opened up in the privacy of your room and after that you had barely seen him, much less spoken to him. You believed that everything was due to a matter of pride or even shame for what you had witnessed and you simply didn’t give it importance, because you knew that eventually he would approach you again. You just had to wait for him to want to do it.

Almost as if by summons, the black-haired girl appeared through the door, looking agitated and embarrassed by the delay. Furthermore, she came empty-handed.

"Princess…"

“Didn't you bring breakfast?” you asked, still sounding cordial but slightly surprised.

“I'm very sorry, it's just that Prince Aegon asked me to bring the food to the royal dining room. He is waiting for you there, he told me to come and get you.”

He hadn’t mentioned requiring your presence for any breakfast and, according to you, there were no guests in the palace to accompany. The two women noticed your dismay and Meryna stood waiting for a response.

“Did he tell you why?”

“No, your grace”

"Good. Then tell him I'll be there in a moment."

You only took a few minutes to change your dress, one more suitable for being in the presence of the prince and in case there was a guest you didn't know about. There were no guards at your door so you were able to walk to the dining room by yourself and were surprised to see that only your husband was at the table. He had an expression that you interpreted as a mix of impatience and nerves.

“Oh, you finally arrived. Sit down. You, bring the princess something to drink,” he ordered a maid. He used to call you that in the presence of guests, but it was rare for him to have that courtesy when alone.

“Are we waiting for someone?”

"No. I just thought you might want to have breakfast together.”

You were already sitting next to him, and for a second you watched him with a frown. Had he hit his head somewhere or why was he acting so strange?

“Do you prefer juice or wine, your highness?

"Juice"

“And bring her some strawberries,” Aegon exclaimed.

There was something about the situation that scared you, because you imagined that he wouldn't be treating you so kindly without wanting something in return. But you were already his wife and he did whatever he wanted with you, what more could he want from you?

You looked him up and down, as if searching for some sign, but he looked completely normal. He was wearing one of those full black robes he was used to, with a golden chain with emeralds decorating the hem of his neck and a belt accentuating his figure. The dark circles in his eyes were pronounced, as always, but the look was not that of someone angry; you would even say that he looked somewhat passive, even sleepy.

While you were thinking about all that, you remembered the last conversation you had had with him. You feared that madness had finally exploded in your husband and the food you were about to eat was poisoned, as he had suggested at the time. Perhaps out of courtesy he was waiting for you to take the first bite and, trying to control the trembling in your hands, you took a portion of the cold cuts on your plate to put it in your mouth. Luckily the food didn't taste different and after seeing that the man ate it with the utmost calmness, you assumed that it didn't contain any poison either.

There was freshly baked bread, jam, some cheeses, the aforementioned cold cuts, a variety of fruits, scrambled eggs with fresh herbs and chives, as well as some stuffed buns for dessert. It was a mini banquet and as you ate it you couldn't help but wonder why this show of kindness was due.

Aegon didn't seem to have any intention of talking and you didn't try to force him, not wanting to either. The atmosphere was one of peace and tranquility, one you had not experienced since your wedding day until now, and it was a very different but strangely pleasant feeling.

It was just a couple sharing breakfast time, but for two people who come from such a broken home it felt like a totally new experience.

You continued in silence until most of the things served were finished, leaving only what wasn’t to your palate's liking or that your body was simply no longer able to ingest.

“Do you need anything else, your majesty?”

“Clear this table, we won't eat anymore,” he said to the maid, nonchalantly pointing to the leftovers you had left. Then he looked at you “Satisfied?”

"I am. Everything was delicious”

“I want us to do the same tomorrow. I will send a maid for you, so get ready soon,” he said decisively.

Then he got up from his chair, stretched a little, and left the room without saying anything else to you.

You didn't see your husband the rest of the day, but the next morning he kept his promise without fail. Although the breakfast menu was different the routine was the same and again it made you wonder what the reason for it was.

The next day he also requested your presence for breakfast and you concluded that he intended to make it a habit. For the rest of the morning you were supposed to dedicate yourself to your activities, but after a week of following that routine Aegon informed you that he had other plans for you.

“I want you to come with me for a walk.”

"To the exterior?"

"Yeah. I have training with Ser Criston but I don't wish to attend, so you will be my excuse. I'll tell him that the princess wanted to go for a walk and that I couldn't let her go alone."

He was telling you that lie almost like a childish prank and you would swear he was about to smile.

“Huh, okay. If you want it, we will”

You were still confused by his actions, because in all the time you had been there it was the first time he treated you decently. You didn't know if he was still drinking in large quantities, but at least when he went to sleep he no longer reeked of liquor in the same way. And all that week he hadn't forced you to have sex with him.

What had motivated the prince to change his way of behaving towards you?

"Do you want to go to the beach? I will order a couple of horses to be saddled for us” he exclaimed when you had already left the dining room.

You couldn't refuse to go to the bay, because in your entire life you had never seen the ocean and your curiosity was greater than any other feeling. Besides, you loved horses, and being with them might even make you feel better.

Aegon did as he told you and soon enough you were in the stable. He had ordered a beautiful white mare for you, with a silver mane the color of your husband's hair and a formidable build.

You approached to pet the animal, carefully, and tensed completely when you felt another body behind yours. Until that moment you hadn't realized how warm your husband was.

“She's pretty, right?”

His voice sounded at your ear level, as he had also reached out to touch Frostfire’s hair.

"She is"

“I guess you know how to ride,” he muttered under his breath and you let out an offended sigh.

“Of course I do. Highgarden is the heart of the chivalry of the seven kingdoms”

After saying that you turned your head just a little and met his gaze, indigo eyes with hints of lilac looking at you carefully. You could feel his breath against yours and at that closeness your cheeks had already turned red involuntarily.

He separated from you and then went to choose his horse, a black thoroughbred with beautiful braids, to get on it and ask the guards to open the door for you. You almost managed to sneak away, but Ser Criston stopped the two of you just before you could do so, claiming that he had a scheduled practice with the prince.

“I'm taking my wife to Blackwater, she hasn't had a chance to visit since her arrival.”

“But your grace, your father…”

“We will continue with training later, Ser Criston,” he said firmly.

“Will you go to Blackwater without an escort?”

“I will”

"That's impossible"

“Don't worry, I don't want to be accompanied. Just rest for now.”

“But you are the prince.”

"Exactly. I am the prince and I want my orders to be respected."

The boy was a smug son of a bitch when he put his mind to it, just like now. The man had no choice but to obey the words and then the two of you were able to leave. You could get there on foot, but Aegon had felt like riding and had wanted an alternative to quickly escape if something went wrong.

You walked along a path that still belonged to the Red Keep grounds, so there was no great danger of being attacked along the way, and you soon reached the bay. It was even more beautiful up close and as soon as you got off the mare you forgot any courtesy towards your husband, as you rushed towards the shore to watch the waves crash. Your pumps and dress were soaked when the water reached your calves, but it didn't bother you too much because you were happy for the reason.

“Have you never been to the ocean?”

“I'm afraid not, your grace. There was never any business that required me to be on the coast of The Reach and I have always lived surrounded by hills and forests. I had seen some rivers, but…”

Before you could continue your story you staggered because of a wave and to avoid falling you tried to hold on to whatever was within reach, which turned out to be the man next to you. He supported you from the elbows with his strong arms.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he laughed. For the first time in your presence, he had laughed “But we should get away from the shore. I wouldn't want to take you back to the castle all soaked”

You heeded the boy's advice and, still leaning on him, walked towards the sand. The sky was slightly cloudy, so the weather was perfect for walking around without any discomfort.

“I've never visited Highgarden, is it as impressive as rumored?” he asked, as he began to walk in the opposite direction of the Red Keep.

Although you never believed that the prince would be interested in such things, you began to talk to him about your hometown with particular emotion. You told him about his surroundings, about the castle and you also told in greater detail the gardens that once belonged to you and were full of golden roses, as was the emblem of your house.

You were surprised by how attentive the boy was to everything you had to say to him and for the first time since your arrival, you didn't feel like a stranger in your own skin. Talking about your home was like remembering a part of yourself, as if you were showing him your insides through stories of the beautiful hills where you had ridden so many times.

“Everything sounds wonderful,” he concluded. The sea breeze had already ruffled both of your hair and he took advantage of this to brush a strand out of your face “Someday I should go visit it”

“Yes, maybe you would like that” you exclaimed smiling. You had come too far and it was time to walk back, towards where you had left Frostfire and Moonshadow tied up “Your grace, may I ask you a question?”

"Yeah"

You opened your mouth to ask him why he was doing all that and why he had suddenly started showing so much interest in you. You wanted to know the reason for his unexpected kindness and his abstinence from activities that weren’t very pleasant for you. But before you could speak, you took a moment to observe him. His skin looked paler in the light outside and his silver hair waved in the wind, however, what caught your attention the most was the serene expression on his face.

Although you couldn't say that you knew Aegon, the time you had lived together had shown you that his personality was extremely challenging. If you pointed out that he was being nicer to you and questioned him about it, he would most likely revert to his old behavior towards you simply on a whim. So no, you couldn't ask him about anything or you'd ruin the minuscule part of a good relationship you had managed to build.

“I was thinking... Do you think we can one day bring golden roses to the royal gardens? Green and gold are part of your emblem too and that would beautify the place. I could take care of them, if you want.”

“That's a good idea,” he exclaimed happily. You had already turned around to return and you calculated that it must be after noon “I will order them to be brought in as soon as possible, in the hope that the hot weather at King's landing will not ruin them”

“I hope not,” you said, although a little less enthusiastic than before.

You had been lost in thought after the appearance of that question that you did not verbalize and suddenly Aegon feared that he had made some mistake. You walked a few meters in silence, until this state was unbearable for his majesty and he stopped you by holding your shoulders. You were about to ask what had happened when he pulled you against his lips, stealing your breath. It was still a rough kiss, but this time less desperate than before. His hands went down to your waist and held you to his body until there wasn’t even a centimeter of distance left, with your belly touching the heat of his stomach.

“Still no signs that you are pregnant?”

You thought that, perhaps, your answer was in that question and that the only thing the man wanted was to convince you to hurry up the matter of producing an heir.

“I'm sorry to say no. It's very unfortunate."

“We'll have to keep trying,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if he wanted to downplay the matter “Mother insists on it.”

“Has your mother always been like this to you?”

"What are you talking about?"

“It's just… she seems to have everything under control all the time.”

You couldn't be further from the truth and rather than describing it that way Aegon would have said that she was controlling. She wanted to have things under control, but she couldn't and as an example was the eldest prince himself, whom she had never been able to persuade to behave the way he did.

“Well, she is the queen. I guess that's how she must be” he exclaimed without much encouragement. He was still holding you by the waist and was surprised by how intimate that position was. “But we better get back, they must be wondering where we are”

“Maybe they even think I ran away, taking advantage of the fact that you weren't there to watch me,” you joked.

"Would you do it?"

"Do what?"

“Run away”

You looked at the man, incredulous, because it was stupid to think that if you were planning to run away you would just tell him like that. That was the characteristic of it, that it was surprising and hidden.

“Why would I do, your grace?”

“Maybe because I'm a bad husband,” he said quietly. You weren't understanding the game Aegon was playing and it was driving you crazy.

“I wouldn't dare do it. I have nowhere to go and I know I couldn't even get through the doors without your majesty noticing,” you replied.

The prince didn’t want pragmatic reasons like that, but rather his question was more aimed at whether it was your will to abandon him.

Against all odds a couple of raindrops began to fall and very soon a storm had already brewed over your head. It was useless to run, but you did it anyway and Aegon held your hand to prevent either of you from falling due to a trip. Somewhere along the way you lost one of your pumps and at this you began to laugh and he, infected by your joy, did the same. It amused you greatly to think of the face the queen would make when she saw you enter the castle, with her eldest son soaked from head to toe and your clothing incomplete. But you also laughed from the joy of feeling so alive in that moment. You felt like a girl playing in the rain and despite the coldness of the falling water, you felt a certain warmth traveling from the tips of your fingers to your chest.

Although he was sure that you were an excellent rider, your husband insisted on taking you on his own horse to avoid any accidents and you agreed without complaint. His body sheltered you all the way to the Red Keep and once there, under the roof, he helped you down from the chair with extreme care. You didn't think he was that strong until you felt him grab your waist and place you on the floor effortlessly.

“Ask the maids to prepare a bath for you, or you will catch a cold,” he said, putting on your back a cloak he had found hanging on one of the walls.

There was the hint of a smile on his face and seeing him behave like this towards you made you feel weird. You almost felt like he was trying to be affectionate with you, even though he wasn't quite succeeding.

“You should do the same,” you exclaimed softly.

Motivated by the kind moment you had shared, you reached out to brush away the wet hair that had stuck to his face and he shivered at your touch. It was the first time you touched him that way, out of conviction and with care.

“Your majesty, Lord Hand is looking for you. He says he needs to talk to you urgently."

“My grandfather,” he sighed at you, as if wanting to apologize for the words the guard behind you had just said.

He gave the man Moonshadow's reins and then explained that someone had to go get the horse you had left in the bay, so you assumed your presence there was no longer necessary. You were about to leave when he stopped you, grabbing your arm somewhat roughly and looking at you with a feeling that you couldn't decipher.

“I'll go to your room tonight,” he informed.

You felt a little disappointed by the reality of having to share a bed with him, after so long without having done so, but you were grateful that he was at least warning you.

You nodded your goodbyes and he did the same, forming an unspoken agreement. You thought maybe that was why he had been polite to you, so he could get back under your bed sheets. But there was no point in doing it, he wasn't courting you to win your hand, but you were already his wife and he had made it very clear that he could do with you whatever he wanted.

Still a little confused, you were escorted to your bedroom, where you hoped that a tub with hot water and essences would be enough to appease all those doubts that were growing in you.

FIFTH ACT: LOVE

At some point Aegon would get tired of all this, you were sure. But while that moment arrived, you were thoroughly enjoying all kinds of attention you received from your husband. He kept his promise to bring golden roses for the gardens and although the queen wasn’t very happy, in the end they adorned some of the busiest sections of the place. You took that as an act of good faith, so you thought that maybe the thought of repaying him for some of the decency he was showing you wouldn't kill you.

There wasn’t a single breakfast that you skipped, except when the prince was required for political matters or had to travel. You were too proud to admit that you had begun to genuinely enjoy his company, as you still had some distrust due to how temperamental the man was. It wasn't all sunshine and flowers, as the young man still had some outbursts that made you fear him and reminded you that this was who you were really talking to.

His drinking habits hadn’t changed much, since although he was able to handle it during the first week after that period, it was inevitable that he would go back to his old ways and drink an entire jug of wine in a couple of minutes. With sex it was the same, because he continued to fuck you without signs of care and regularly when he was lost in drink. It amused you to think that perhaps that was the reason why you still didn't carry a child in your womb; that he was too drunk when you tried to be of any use.

However, as your relationship strengthened you could notice slight (you almost swore they were imaginary) changes when having sex. He was no longer as rough towards your body as before and tried to thrust into you a little slower, as if he wanted to lengthen the moment and not just unload into you and sleep like a baby after that. Maybe it was just that the drink made him lethargic, but he had even started seeking your lips in the middle of the act or kissing everything within reach of the skin on your neck. You didn't intend to spend much time analyzing his behavior because for you it already represented a victory that he had stopped hurting you after every time you had sex and, honestly, you didn't want to inquire about it. Once again you thought it was more prudent not to question the prince and simply let him continue behaving that way.

Until one night, things looked different for you.

When you heard your husband open the door, quite late at night, and saw him approach your bed, you knew that the same dynamic of nighttime visits would take place. Aegon, already hard as a rock, would kiss you a few times, undress, order you to undress, and then position on top of you to satisfy himself. Needless to say, under the confidence that being in the dark gave you and your husband's lack of interest, you looked away or concentrated on something else while your martyrdom was carried out. He would finish, lie naked next to you, and then sleep soundly with no memory the next morning of what had happened.

Aegon called your name, just to check that you were awake or otherwise wake you up, and you were surprised to hear that his voice sounded quite normal. He wasn't slurring his words like usual.

"Your grace?" you called back, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him.

He did what was expected and as soon as he was far enough away, he started kissing you. You must have known something was wrong from that first moment, when he grabbed your cheek with his wide hand and offered you the most passionate kiss you had ever had. It is reiterated that Aegon was always somewhat careless in intimacy, but this first contact hadn’t felt as impatient as others, but rather was something more careful and planned.

Only one other man had kissed you like that in your life and although the feeling brewing in your chest must have been pleasant, the truth was that it wasn't. You had endured too much abuse from the white-haired man so your body didn't know how to react otherwise. That's why when he continued kissing you for longer than usual and then laid you down meekly, you couldn't do anything but tense uncomfortably.

You were only in your nightgown so there wasn't much difficulty in sliding the straps to the side, almost exposing your tits. Suddenly Aegon lowered his kisses to your neck, where his stubble scratched your skin. Knowing that he would be busy in that area, you turned your head away to focus your gaze on a tapestry on the wall. However, you got a surprise when you felt the prince move away from you and then a bigger one when he took your face between his fingers, placing his index finger and thumb on each of your cheeks to force you to look at him. At first you thought there was anger in his eyes, but after looking at them for a second more you concluded that the feeling was more like that of someone insulted. And why? you asked yourself. What had you done that had offended the prince?

“Why are you looking away?”

His question had a certain aggressive tone, but, at the same time, he sounded hurt. With that you confirmed that he wasn’t drunk or that, if he was, he had drunk just enough to make him feel slightly dizzy. You couldn't tell the way your eyes looked at him, but Aegon interpreted your expression as one of disdain.

Unbeknownst to you, he had his own whirlwind of feelings inside him, one that was driving him crazy and causing him to look you up and down while still holding you. He’d never been like this on another night, so you were at the mercy of knowing how good or bad that would turn out.

Suddenly he seemed upset, you would even say disgusted, and surprisingly stood up from his position. The cold air hit you where he had been before and you sat on the bed to watch him, completely confused by the way he was behaving.

"What's going on…?"

“You don't want this,” he spoke firmly. It was obvious that you didn't want to and you wondered how he had barely realized it. “Not like that… I… no. Not this way"

His babbling confused you even more and when you saw him walk away with exaggerated steps until he left through the door, you couldn't help but feel totally amazed.

What was the reason for what your husband had just done?

The feeling of being abandoned was more hopeless than having him fuck you would have been, and for a moment you even felt ashamed. Maybe he didn't like you anymore or he would just go and cure his frustration in the bed of a woman you didn't know.

He had watched you very strangely and the whole scene wasn't like him. You even pinched yourself just to check that it wasn't some strange dream, getting a moan of pain in response to your question. You thought that perhaps you were acting impulsively, but barely a minute later you put on a green robe over your nightgown and headed towards the door, still not knowing exactly what you were going to do.

“Where are you going, your grace?” the guard on duty asked, putting his voluptuous body in your way.

“Prince Aegon, do you know where he went?”

“In that direction, your majesty. But I'm afraid I must recommend that you return to your room, it is dangerous to walk around the palace at this time."

“But I wish to see my husband,” you said firmly.

The man let out a sigh and then slid to the side of the hallway, leaving you a clear path. Even so, when you started walking you felt his footsteps following you because he probably wanted to make sure that something didn't happen to you. You walked for a while, but you knew it was useless when all you found were locked doors that you couldn't knock on and that you couldn't open either. If Aegon was in any of those rooms, you wouldn't know it. Defeated, you returned to your room and, as expected, found it empty again.

The next morning there wasn’t a single word about that event, but it was present in your mind throughout the day. You had already lived with him enough to realize that something was bothering him, however, upon noticing that he was less talkative during your usual breakfast, you decided to give him time.

You were about to leave the table when he stopped you, asking you to take your seat again and looking at you seriously.

“I have to travel for a couple of weeks,” he informed you. You were surprised to hear that he almost sounded sad “The king is required on some business and since my father can no longer travel, I will have to do it.”

“I hope the entire journey is favorable and the visit profitable, your grace,” you exclaimed cordially. However, your husband didn’t seem pleased with it.

One of his hands slid to hold yours, with a strength that surprised you. There was urgency in his grip, like he needed to hold on to something.

“Is that all you have to say?”

A couple of wrinkles appeared on your brow, as you clearly weren't understanding what he expected of you. Accompanying him would be reckless and you didn't know if he wanted you to keep him there at King's landing.

During those last months something had changed in the man's face, because those eyes surrounded by purple marks no longer saw you with the same aversion as the first time. And it disheartened Aegon that his attempts to please you were yielding no apparent fruit. He was giving you time, effort, and being kind to you like you had said was necessary, but he still couldn't help but feel that you still considered him a stranger.

He had been patient because he thought that, as time went by, you would begin to seek him out or not shy away from his touch. Aegon cared a lot about the physical, so every time he sneaked into your room he did so with the hope that you would welcome him with open arms and give yourself to him willingly. Countless nights he waited in his own room for you to show up to keep him warm and love him throughout the night. But it never happened and a part of him couldn't blame you either.

However, he was already tired of it. He wanted to make it clear to you that he not only wanted to give, but also receive. But forcing you to do anything would ruin everything; you had to want it.

“Have I said something that offended you, prince?”

“I just thought you would say you were going to miss me”

A laugh echoed in your throat at those words and for a second Aegon felt hurt, like you were mocking you. He was going to let go of your hand and walk away, insulted, but you squeezed his hand harder as a sign that you didn't want him to do that.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you. I just didn't think that if I harbored feelings of that kind they would be of interest to your majesty."

“Do you miss me when you don't see me?” he asked now, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of you “Or are you glad to have me away?”

You didn't know what those direct questions were about, because you didn't expect that a man like him would be plagued by uncertainty about knowing the answers.

“Not at all. I will always be willing to be with you whenever you want.”

“And you want to be with me?” he insisted.

“I think that what I want is not important”

“But I'm trying to make it so. I thought I was making it clear enough,”

He was angry, but not for the reasons you might think. It frustrated him that he was trying hard to improve and that your eyes continued to see him like that first time. Too many people were already observing him like that and he thought that, perhaps, since you were the most recent to do it, you could also be the first in whom he could manage to modify it.

You, however, were still too confused by his signs. Sometimes his attitude didn’t coincide with the intentions he had, since antipathy was often the only emotion with which he allowed himself to express and feel, accustomed to what he received during all his years of life.

All those months of effort were a direct product of the talk you had had with him, of that moment of weakness in which, instead of ignoring him like everyone else did, you had stayed with him. Aegon was aware that the treatment towards you was sometimes inhumane and he couldn’t explain how despite this you had wiped away his tears with such care, expressing nothing more than an act of integrity. Sometimes he even just imposed things on you to see if he could push you to the limit and he was surprised to see that you endured everything with honor and decency. You were good, something he could never be.

He didn't want to hear anything more and then let go of your hand, feeling rejected again.

"Majesty…"

"It's getting late. I have to go feed Sunfyre so he can endure the trip.”

“Will you travel by dragon?”

“How else would a Targaryen do it?” expressed obviously.

You were silent for a moment and then he stood up, ready to fulfill his obligations. In the afternoon he had already left, without emotional goodbyes or anything like that.

You had those weeks alone to reflect on everything that had been happening. You firmly believed that a cruel and evil person would always be that way, even if they hid it, because humans can’t change from one day to the next. Still, you had to allow Aegon the courtesy of admitting that he wasn't being a complete jerk lately.

You tried to think of any unpleasant moments with him during that week and although you found a couple, you realized that they had all been because of minor arguments or simply that one of the two of you had woken up in a bad mood. The hatred for the boy had been so ingrained in you that now it was difficult to decipher how much of it was due to things that were really happening and how much of it was a resentment carried from the past, at the beginning of that harmful relationship that existed between you.

He was no longer a mean man to you, he just sometimes had those logical slips for anyone who has never been taught to love. He didn't know how to care for you, how to talk to you, or even how to touch you properly. He had always existed alone and could still be seen reflected in his incessant desire for you to be the one to look for him, in his longing to know that you would miss him during his absence and in wanting you to look forward to his return. He wanted you to pay attention to him. He needed it.

One fine afternoon the vision of Sunfyre finally appeared in the bright blue of the sky, with you watching from the huge window of your room. He looked majestic, flying deftly and confidently with the rider above him grinning from ear to ear. Aegon had once confessed to you that he loved to fly on his dragon and he spoke about it with a devotion that completely touched you.

You thought about going to look for him, grateful that he had returned, but you were afraid that your presence would bother him or, in that case, that there would be murmurs about you. You didn't want to seem like a desperate wife so you thought it would be best to look for him at dinner time and in case he wanted to see you before, you stayed in your room all afternoon.

Once night fell, you put on one of your prettiest dresses and went to the royal dining room hoping to find him there, but it was in vain. Luckily one of the cooks had seen him and he told you that he was in his room, since he had ordered that something to eat and drink be brought there.

Determined, you made your way there and took a moment before entering. You hoped that the time away from King's landing had not hardened your lover's character, because it would be a shame to waste what you had built for some time and have to start over, or not do it at all, which would be even worse. Since there were no guards at the door, you were able to push the wood without any hindrance and then you saw it.

Aegon was sitting near the fireplace, his back to the entrance and leaning against a table that had a jug that you assumed was full (or not so full anymore) of wine. When he heard your footsteps he turned slightly and when he saw you, he kept a serene expression on his face.

“Hey,” he exclaimed quietly.

“The maids informed me that you were here” you explained and he nodded.

You noticed that he no longer wore his black doublet with the Targaryen emblem, he only kept the breeches of the same color and a mint-colored linen shirt that left part of his chest exposed. His white hair had some natural curls that fell delicately over her shoulders.

“Yeah. I don't feel like seeing my parents.”

“I understand” you assumed that if he hadn't wanted to see you he wouldn't have hesitated to tell you, so you approached him. Undecided whether you should greet him with a kiss or just stay to the side, you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned a little to look at him “How was the trip?”

“It was good,” he responded with reluctance. “But my body feels completely crushed”

“Hm. It shows” you whispered, amused. The tension in his body was palpable and that's why you began to massage him, pressing hard just where he needed it. Aegon, feeling your skilled hands doing this, let out a satisfied grunt and leaned his head back with his eyes closed.

Doing that wasn’t something you had planned when you went there, it had only happened out of the heat of the moment and the reality that your husband's body was taking its toll on him for the hours he had spent riding his dragon.

With each passing second Aegon's burden felt lighter and lighter, wondering where you had learned those movements and how your hands were strong enough to exert the right pressure.

"Feel better?" you asked kindly and he nodded immediately, eyes still closed.

Suddenly one of your hands slid lower, towards his chest, to caress him. This time your fingers were light as feathers, sending an electrical current up and down the man's spine under your touch. No whore had ever touched him like that, with that force and at the same time so delicately.

But it was clear that you were not a whore. You were his wife.

“Come here,” he said firmly, reaching out to wrap his hand around your wrist and pulling you directly into his lap.

It was extremely painful to admit that he had missed you. He was physically frustrated because he hadn't dared to take any other woman in your absence. It had been a long time since he had frequented pleasure houses, since his appetite was awakened only by being with you.

What the hell had you done to him?

“The cook told me that you ordered some food, but I only see wine around here. Have you already eaten anything?”

“Mhmm,” he said absently. Your legs dangled to the side and one of his hands came up to your face, brushing your loose hair away from it. The other one surrounded you until it planted itself firmly on your belly. “Still no signs of anything?”

“Honestly, I don't know. The maesters can’t say with certainty… I am sorry”

“What if you are sterile?” the mere possibility of it made you nervous and you wondered what your fate would be if that was the case. Aegon didn't look so worried “What a disappointment for Alicent.”

You didn't know how to take that, because on the one hand it could be that your husband was amused by the irony of the matter and on the other hand it was that he would never have wanted to have children with you. For a moment you thought that the tranquility of the environment had been fragmented by this, but it turned out that the man couldn't care less. He was completely focused on your lips, almost as if hypnotized.

“I trust that is not the case, your grace. Just… it was a streak of bad luck.”

“I guess so,” he murmured nonchalantly. He was still watching your mouth when you spoke “But now I don’t care much about that.”

He carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you closer to shorten the distance, giving you an eager kiss that took your breath away. The hand that was on your waist pulled you closer to his body, leaving practically no separation between you and him. You could feel the desperation on his lips and in his touch, like he was eager to make you his. And at the same time, he was kissing you like he had never done before: it was sweet, yearning, passionate. You felt like he really wanted you.

He separated from you so you could breathe and, as best he could, he maneuvered to lift your body until he placed you on the table, where it was easier for him to place himself in the space between your legs. You instinctively placed your hands around his neck and wrapped one of your legs around his body.

“I longed for you. These weeks” you finally confessed. You heard him, and felt him, breathe more erratically at this because your words had fallen on him with the force of an axe.

From there, Aegon acted solely driven by the feeling of knowing that you had wanted to see him as much as he had wanted to see you.

His entire body leaned over you to kiss you, with the same urgency as at the beginning. While he did that he grabbed you by the lower back, pulling you until your body collided with his crotch which, if it wasn't already hard, wouldn't take long.

His kisses were clumsy due to urgency and after a while he moved away from your mouth to descend to your neck. Sometimes he left a kiss or two, at most, but this time he seemed to want to take his time. His tongue ran all over your skin, freshly washed, and he spread caresses without restraint. Every place the dragon's lips touched lit up with fire and his hips grinding against you weren't doing much for the blush on your cheeks. Inevitably you began to sigh from so many stimuli, right at the level of his ear, which only motivated him to continue.

As best he could he pulled the laces on the back of your dress and it didn't take long to get rid of the restraints. He slid one of your sleeves over your shoulder to begin kissing that section, the same way he had done with your neck. An indiscreet moan escaped you as your husband bit into your soft flesh and you could feel him smile against your skin.

“You're mine, right?” he sighed brokenly. You had tilted your head back to give him more space and he took the opportunity to lower the entire torso of your dress. “Only mine…”

With the same devotion he took care of your breasts and you couldn't do anything but continue alternating between sighs and some muffled moans. You could feel how he longed for you, eager to be able to kiss every inch of your skin even if it took him the entire night. Suddenly your body had become a temple, an object worthy of worship. The prince continued to distribute kisses that each time descended towards your belly, until with one hand he violently threw everything that was on the table and you ended up lying completely on it. Then he walked away.

You were about to ask what had happened when he took care of taking off your ballerina flats and throwing them somewhere far away in the room, only to stretch your leg up to the height of his torso to start kissing it. No one, not even him, had ever done that to you, so it was natural for you to be dismayed. His kisses moved quickly up your thigh and once he did that, he dropped to his knees in front of you. The skirt of your dress blocked your view and when you tried to get up something made you scream. Aegon had bitten into the tender flesh of your thighs, quite close to your crotch and with more force than he had hit your shoulder. You could only imagine his face when he carefully licked the mark he had surely left on you, once again making your chest exhale a moan.

What he did next and the sensation it caused, you could never have even imagined. That mouth, which most of the time was used for ironic puns and sloppy kisses, was now taking expert care of all of your pussy. Aegon was devouring you completely, touching just where it was necessary to make you squirm on the table. He wasn't careful at all; it was a touch hungry and extremely dirty.

You wanted to hold on as much as you could to keep yourself attached to reality, but it was difficult with your husband eating you like that. One of his arms wrapped around your leg and placed it over his shoulder, probably to give him better access. You had never moaned like that in his presence and it only made him harder and harder beneath the tight fabric of his breeches.

The pleasure was barely getting to your head when he stopped and a dissatisfied grunt escaped you shamelessly. Aegon laughed unabashedly at this, pleased at the control he had gained over you, and then went up again to kiss you hungrily. You couldn't do anything but welcome his salty lips and you moaned against him as he leaned against your body and you could feel his crotch, not knowing if it was your own wetness or his that was present.

He held you from behind and, without stopping kissing you, carried you until he placed you on the bed. You considered it somewhat unfair that your husband already had you trembling beneath him and still hadn't taken off a single piece of clothing, but your complaints were silenced when he hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head and took off his breeches in record time. In the same way, he pulled your dress towards your legs so that a second later it ended up on the floor, along with everything else.

He knelt down on the mattress and spread your legs roughly, lining himself up with your entrance. He began to rub the tip of his member up and down your already wet center and that did nothing but drive you crazy again.

When a delicate, pleading, «please» escaped your swollen lips, Aegon knew it was more stimulating to have you begging for him than to worry about only satisfying himself.

He played with you for a while longer, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of his delicate, pretty wife vibrating from having him close, until he finally plunged into you. For the first time there was enough wetness in you that the stroke felt satisfying rather than painful and both of you let out a delicious moan.

He set the pace, slow at first, but after a while his movements became more desperate. He wanted to get to the core of you, he wanted to fill you completely so you knew that only he could make you feel that way. When his body began to ache he leaned towards you, resting each of his arms on the side of your head and looking directly at you. You had stopped looking away from him, now you were looking at him with your mouth open with pleasure, your eyes watery and your pupils dilated on your completely flushed cheeks.

“Aegon,” you sobbed pathetically, clouded by everything you were experiencing and proving that it wasn't long before you reached your orgasm.

You had never called him by his name. You always referred to him as «your grace», «prince» or «husband», at best. So hearing his name come out of your lips like that, under those circumstances, was too much for him to bear.

Knowing that he couldn't last much longer, one of his hands moved down to rest his thumb on your clit and once there he began to make erratic circles. You closed your eyes, completely seized by pleasure and a couple more thrusts were enough to make you lose the battle. Hearing your whimpers, combined with the way your walls squeezed him, was enough to make him cum too. With trembling legs you felt the warm liquid filling you and, for the first time, it was comforting.

When Aegon plopped down next to you, you immediately missed his body warmth. Both of you were breathing heavily, trying to catch the breath that the orgasm had taken from you. You could clearly feel your heartbeat bouncing off your bare chest and the stinging sensation coming from your crotch and running through your entire body was something you could get used to. Your hair had stuck to your face from the sweat and not to mention your lips, which you felt were burning from your husband's attention.

Aegon had already had many orgasms in his life so this time he decided to turn his gaze a little to see you enjoying yours. The mere idea that he was responsible for your condition made him completely shake.

“You look beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. You thought he had heard wrong because of the rush, but from the way he was smiling at you, you highly doubted it. “Just like that”

“Like what?”

“Freshly fucked. Well fucked” he corrected himself.

A laugh bubbled up from within you and you blushed even more, if that was possible, perhaps from the nerves and elation of what had just happened. The man stood up a little from his seat and leaned down to kiss you, although this time he did it with a calm and affection that you never thought you would see in him. It was just that he couldn't deny it anymore; from that moment on he would become an open book for you, where you could see all his feelings, desires and fears.

“I don't know why you're doing this,” you suddenly murmured and Aegon pulled away enough to look at you “And I don't know why you've been acting like this these past few months. But I like it. I think it's a good time for you to know."

“You said I could choose who I am,” he said meekly. One of his hands grabbed your chin and stole another fleeting kiss from you. “I haven't forgotten, every word is present in my head. It's just... sometimes it's hard. And I thought I would have a better chance with you, even with the things I did to you when we got married”

You smiled at him and were happy to know that the change in his behavior was because of the talk you once had with him. If he continued like this, ignoring the demons inside him and trying to be better, then your marriage had a chance to become more than just a condemnation.

Driven by the pleasant feeling growing in your chest you reached out towards him to reward him with a kiss. The man's breath hitched when you pushed him to the side and reversed roles, now you being the one pampering him while he was lying down. There was a playful glint in your husband's eyes as you looked at him.

“Do you know this is the first time you kissed me?” he exhaled softly.

You couldn't believe that was possible and for a few seconds you tried to remember so you could contradict him. But every time you remembered you realized that it was always him who initiated the contact to which you only responded, so, effectively, it was the first kiss you gave him out of conviction.

Maybe it was an omen that something good was coming.

Still happy with how everything had turned out, you snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest while he hugged you and threw a sheet over your bodies. You planted a hand on his bare skin and began drumming your fingers, alternating with small circles made with the greatest delicacy.

You were silent for a long time, you even thought that your husband had fallen asleep until you heard him speak again:

“It's also the first time I'm doing this.”

“Are you talking about sex, your grace?”

“No, I'm talking about cuddling,” he confessed softly, his hand caressing your back the same way you did with him, “And don't call me your majesty anymore. I am Aegon. Or my prince, at any rate. But my is important”

With the affection worthy of a wife, you raised your head to place a kiss on his cheek and assured him that from now on you would call him that in the privacy of your chambers.

Suddenly, after another moment of silence, Aegon pulled you close to him as if afraid you were going to suddenly evaporate. Intending to calm his fears, you climbed until you were on top of his body, hiding your head in his neck so that the distance became minimal.

There was silence for another couple of minutes.

“Do you think I can ever be forgiven?”

Apparently the atmosphere of the moment had managed to soften the boy's heart.

“We can all be absolved, Aegon.”

"And you?"

"Me what?"

“Do you think you can ever love me?” you were quiet for a second, thinking about your response. Then, he added “Or could you at least try? It would be a nice detail for me. No one has ever done it before.”

Not wanting to ruin the mood with a false word you decided to kiss his neck gently and that was enough of an answer for him. He would have to trust in your goodwill and that he could continue to restrain his impulses to keep this newly discovered gem that was his wife. With some luck you could even be that person he prayed for so much all his life, one with whom he could feel safe.

The slowing of the man's breathing revealed to you that he had already fallen asleep and you discovered that it seemed not so bad to find yourself in that position, sheltered by your lover's arms.

Under that scenario, the idea of eventually loving Prince Aegon Targaryen no longer sounded so far-fetched.

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