#they were calling me for illegitimate

[mira-likes]

Multitasking according to the Emperor of Qing:

- go bond with your illegitimate son about his tragically dead mother

- while the son is admiring her portrait, hop out and check if your soldiers managed to murder the son’s beloved uncle/mentor

- upon learning that they failed, murder a courtyard’s worth of people

- hop back to the son and continue bonding

This way no time is lost and you can combine both heartfelt bonding and murder in the same half an hour ☺️💕

[maddy-ferguson]

i love that the last people heard the leftist coalition won the french legislative elections so they think we have a leftist government now lol

[arcielee]

Devotion

Summary: You are a Targaryen princess with an infatuation on a certain White Cloak. Paring: Ser Erryk Cargyll x Targaryen!Reader Word Count: 5.7k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, neglect, angst, unrequited love?, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v, more angst, oral sex (m and f receiving), a mother's reprimand, lots of blood, death, more angst Author’s Note: Thank you my beloved beta reader @zaldritzosrose for looking this over and helping me this story. I Mushroom-tweaked it to fit the angsty plot. This started as an anon request and unfolded into so much more. It is dedicated to my darling @opheliax98 who encouraged "all the drama" of this piece. I hope it you enjoy it. 💜 You can also read it on ao3.

Your mother decided that you would return to the Red Keep as an envoy, because of your ability to hide in plain sight despite the poisoned word that first followed your steps–ilībōños, bastard. It was the same that was thrown towards your half-brothers, but with a tone as bold as their brown curls and brown eyes; they did not have the fortune of their Valyrian roots to hide under, their features often speculated as too Strong. 

You, however, were the first, albeit illegitimate, born of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, conceived the same night that her virtue was called into question. 

There was a bitter speculation of your origins that faded away with your birth; you were another nameless Targaryen princess that would decorate the family tapestry, another egg that turned to stone in the crib. Life in the capitol was lonely for you; your father was away in Pentos with his new family, while your mother remained preoccupied with her White Cloak, and then her Gold Cloak and new husband. There was an age gap between you and your brothers, your nephews and your niece, and it was an isolating chasm that placed you as an outsider, a spectator, with the unfocused eyes of the court looking through you. 

Your only company was your handmaiden, Elinda, but her loyalties reported back to your mother, and then your Septa, but her complaints were ceaseless, especially as you learned the pathways that Maegor the Cruel had carved into the Keep; they became your escape from her lessons. 

It was then your mother requested a knight from the Kingsguard to watch over you, and you mourned the little bit of independence acquired, assuming you would be assigned someone old, doddy, who served as another set of eyes that would only look through you. 

You were not expecting Ser Erryk Cargyll. 

To begin, he was only three years older than you–it was said his swordsmanship so impressed the Lord Commander that he also recruited his twin brother, bringing them both to King's Landing to serve in the Kingsguard. He was handsome, standing tall behind your mother, long and lithe. His ruddy complexion brought out the blue-gray of his eyes that showed unsure, almost shy with the introductions. 

You smiled at him and his lips curled upwards in response, a rose dusting to his cheeks. 

You liked him at once.

He was devoted to your shadow, almost rapt to your beck and call. The attention fed your girlish infatuation with the young knight, and you were always teasing him in a way that teetered on the edge of his duty and his oath with your coy questions and smirk. Ser Erryk was rarely rattled by you, but seemed more amused–he would answer you with a frank tone, a welcomed honesty, that ended with your title: it was always, “Yes, princess,” or “I shall see to it, princess.” 

It continued on for months until one evening, as he escorted you to your room, you asked him to call you by your name, to set aside the formality. You saw the brilliant blue of his eyes, bright amongst the flush of his features; his tongue wet his lips, searching for his voice. “I could never do that, princess,” he started slowly, his eyes flickering up again to look at you as if for the first time. You saw the dust of his freckles that burned bright against his skin. “My purpose is to keep you safe.” 

His voice was low, so serious, and it made your blood rise to the surface. You tried to laugh it off. “My purpose is to wait around until I am able to marry the highest bidder.” It was something that weighed heavy on your heart; your eyes fell away and your fingers grasped into the fabric of your skirts. “I know I will not be missed within these walls once I am gone.” 

“That’s not true, princess.” 

It startled you, and you peered back up from underneath your lashes, your heart vibrating against your skin. You watched Ser Erryk choke on his boldness, his regret knotting into his face before he settled on silence. You watched him go, the muted ensemble of his armor as he returned to the barracks below. 

That moment created something palpable that pressed overhead. You were too young, too rash to even know how to tactfully touch the subject again. The forced return to your norm left your bones aching; Ser Erryk doted on your steps, and you rambled on to drown out the incessant screaming of your heart within your chest. 

It spilled over at Driftmark. Your family went for the Velaryon funeral procession for Daemon’s wife, feeding further into the resentment that rifted within the house of the dragon. You slipped away and found Aegon in his cups, deciding to steal some of the liquid courage. When Ser Erryk found you, your eyes were glassy and your cheeks flushed. 

He sighed, shaking his head, reaching to help you stand, but you swore you saw the hint of a smile touching his lips. Ser Erryk said nothing, but wrapped his arm around your waist and matched his gait with your staggered steps to your room. You rested your head on his shoulders, enjoyed his smell of olive oil used on his sword and how it mixed with his perspiration. 

At the door, you felt his breath tickle your ear, “I will not speak of this to the crowned princess, but you should get some rest–” 

You spun to face him, your hands pushing on his breastplate to steady yourself on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to meet with his. Ser Erryk froze with your kiss, his White Cloak tightening like a vice. His palms were rough, but he was gentle to wrap your elbows and pull you back, his gaze rooting you to cobblestone. 

Moments ticked away with your beating heart that was now bruising against your bones before he finally said, “I cannot give you what you truly deserve, princess.” 

He said nothing else and your embarrassment fed the fire in your blood. You pulled away from him and slipped into your room, careful to close your door. Your back pressed against the carvings of sea creatures into the oak and you melted to the floor, your tears spilling to ease your girlish heartache. 

Elsewhere on the island, a dragon was claimed and bloodshed followed. The walls rattled as the king proclaimed his true loyalty and it ended with you being whisked away to Dragonstone. It was for the best, you decided, to leave your broken heart behind. You felt the tinge of hope when you learned that your mother and your father were finally together, and decided to set aside your infatuation of the White Cloak, but instead focus to aid your mother, to help solidify what your grandsire, King Viserys, had proclaimed to the Seven Realms. 

That she was to be queen. 

It had been six years since you last been at King’s Landing. It was now a place both familiar and strange. The same architecture rose above, shadowing over Blackwater Bay, though inside your ancestry of Old Valyria had been replaced, the Keep becoming a shrine to the new gods who had not yet paid their dues for such a show of devotion. 

As you entered through the Barbican, you smirked at the memory of the girl you were before, only ten and five, on the cusp of womanhood that required your gowns to be stitched to fit your slender frame. Now your figure filled your dresses, your curves pressing to the seams and your hair twisted and styled to showcase the dragonblood in your veins, that shined in the amethyst of your eyes. 

The queen was first to come and greet you. The handmaidens selected were controlled by Elinda, who watched their flurry to unpack. You looked up to see her lips pursed, her dark brown eyes washed over like you were a specter coming to haunt, like she wished for the earth to swallow you whole. 

“It has been requested–” her tone was queenly, but you noted that she would not mention how it was your mother that penned her a letter, “–for you to have a knight assigned. I was advised that Ser Erryk has served this role before.” 

His name caused your blood to roar in your head as you turned to watch him enter the room. Ser Erryk seemed taller, or perhaps that was how he now held himself, his pride set on his shoulders and onto his features that sharpened. He was still sinewy, though he seemed to fill out the armor hammered to fit his frame, polished and gleaming in the sun that streaked through; it burned bright in his copper hair that was brushed back to show his beard trimmed to fit his jaw. 

The coloring brought out his blue-gray eyes that shined almost unsure, almost shy. 

It kindled something within you that you believed to be gone, a feeling that washed away on the shores of Dragonstone and swept to the depths of the bay, buried in the sand. 

Ser Erryk looked at you and you could not help your smile. His lips ticked upwards and you felt your pulse flutter anew, seizing your heart again. 

Your iron-clad shadow followed after your steps, a devotion renewed, and it returned the muscle memory of his constant and comforting presence as you reacquainted with the old castle. Ser Erryk accompanied your rounds to visit with Helaena and her children, watching your brief exchange with each prince, and even briefer with the king who smiled when he called you Rhaenyra. Your knight then escorted you back to your room without a word, just the chink of his armor with his steps, echoing off the stone. 

You paused in the doorway, looking back to see his stance. As he watched you, your mind flittered with words but none could knit together. “Sleep well, princess,” he finally spoke with a small bow, excusing himself. 

The room had also been stripped of your Targaryen history, almost unfamiliar despite your chests unpacked. Elinda and the other handmaidens helped prepare you for bed, and a cup of wine was poured but your stomach would not hold it down. They left you alone and your quarters were now a gilded cage to contain you; you pulled on your pale, silk robe and finished half of the goblet, summoning your old courage to slip away.

The same panel opened with ease, but inside, basked in the amber light of torch set in a sconce, stood Ser Erryk with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Your mouth fell open and he grinned at you. “I take my oath with my heart, princess,” he reminded you. 

“How did you know–?” You stammered, licking the wine from your lips. 

He only shrugged, his eyes glittering in the fire. “You seem so very different, but also are still the same.” 

You pulled the panel closed to silence his chuckle. You finished the rest of the wine poured and returned to your bed.  

Your days at Kings Landing were idly filled. Your old Septa returned with her scrutiny of the woman you had become, her brow furrowing to find fault as you showcased your refinement of a lady mastered over the last half decade. Your afternoons were spent in the company of Helaena and her children, the only ones welcoming your return, with the littlest one, Maelor, especially taken with you. 

The time was spent in the gardens with a blanket sprawled out. Helaena would hum songs while the twins played their games. Maelor was content to sit in your lap, his eyes wide to discover whatever came within his chubby grasp. 

And Ser Erryk, your shadow, would stay close by, always. 

“He will draw his own blood to protect you.” The princess spoke suddenly, jarringly–it was a common happenstance with Helaena, you learned. Her every impertinent thought spilled off her tongue in riddles. 

Maelor’s eyes widened with his beginning grasp of the spoken word. You blew a raspberry onto his cheek to distract him, and he fell into a fit of giggles. “He would draw blood, but only if it was needed,” you corrected her, your voice low. 

Helaena only hummed in response, falling back into whatever song as she looked over the flowers that surrounded you both, watching the insects that lived amongst them. Her words remained with you, echoing in your head long after the moon began its silver stretch overhead. It guided your steps back to the panel in your room and you pushed it open. 

Ser Erryk straightened at once, his hand back on his pommel. “Princess? Why are you still–” 

You stopped him with a gentle touch on his breastplate, steadying yourself to rise on the balls of your feet until your lips pressed to his once again. But this time he responded, melting against–his lips were soft and warm, and his beard tickled your skin. 

You fell flat-footed to the floor with a smile spreading across your face; he was enraptured to watch the words that spilled from your lips. “I thought I had forgotten that night at Driftmark, but it seems what you said has embedded into my bones.” You felt light-headed, but also embolden by his gaze and the black that swallowed his murky cobalt eyes. “You once said that you could not give me what I deserved, but did you ever think you could give me what I want, what I desire?” 

It was a dam broken and he surged against you, pressing until your back touched the other side of the corridor. He reclaimed your mouth with a honeyed fervor that warmed your blood. Your fingers pull away the tie that held back his hair and combed through his silky copper spill. His fingers bruised into your hips, holding on as if you would slip away. 

You broke the kiss, breathless, your fingers knitting with his own and pulling him back into your room. It was a quiet exchange, littered with soft kisses, as you helped him remove his iron armor piece-by-piece, stacking the plates aside. 

He draped the white cape over a chair and looked to you. Underneath he wore a pale tunic and cream slacks, his outline pressing to the seams in a way that made your thighs clench. He stepped closer, his desperation more controlled, and pulled you into his chest, his thumb pressed to tilt your chin for a slow and searching kiss. 

You sighed and his tongue curled to taste, his fingers peeling away the bedtime silk that covered your skin. He worshiped every inch shown with his mouth, blooms of color decorating your skin. 

You helped him pull his shirt over his head, wanting to feel the heat of his skin, to feel the golden hair across his chest. His heart was vibrating beneath, and his arms wrapped around your waist with another kiss that pulled the air from your lungs. Ser Erryk tightened his hold to lift you and walk you backwards until you felt the edge of the bed touching the back of your knees; you sat down, your thighs plush and pink.

His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back to look at you. “Beautiful,” he whispered before leaning to capture your lips again. 

Your fingers curled at the nape of his neck to pull him towards you, moving back against the mattress. He followed, his skin flushed red and his eyes wide as you laid back into the pillows. He moved on top of you, gentle to touch you with soft caresses and lingering kisses, following your guide as you led his hand lower towards the intimacy between your thighs, wet and wanting. 

He trembled with his exhale as his fingertips split apart your velvet folds, his calloused touch careful to map the bloom of nerves above. You gasped with his testing touch and his smile curled into his blood stained cheeks; he moved softer, but quicker, until it elicited a sweet sigh. 

Ser Erryk was responsive, attentive to you. He was aware of your breathing and soft sounds, matching his ministration to pull something deeper within you, sparking at the base of your spine. It felt different from your own touch, this passion he pulled without your control, and you squirmed from the pressure building in your core. 

“Erryk,” you whined, your hips lifting against his hand.

He grinned, shifting to press a kiss underneath your jaw, and your skin rippled over in response to the contrast of his lips and his beard. “That’s it princess,” his husky tone was hot against your skin; your hands moved to hold him close, another pitiful mewl spilling. He shifted his hand, moving to curl two fingers within your cunt while his thumb pressed to your swollen pearl.  

“Erryk–!” you gasped, and your nails pressed red crescents into his shoulders. 

His brow was knitted with his concentration, moving to litter kisses along the column of your neck and to your collarbones–a gentle nip that bolted the length of your spine. He does not stop, his fingers coated with your slick with his rhythm that curled upwards into you, sparking a euphoria that poured white-hot into your blood, your heart bruising until you feel it rattling your bones. 

His other hand touched to return you back to your body; his palms rough but kind, following the curve of your stomach and resting to feel the rise and fall with your bated breath. You felt dizzy, blushing, and you blinked, looking down to see him watching you. He moved to give you another searing kiss that rekindled the same warmth pooling between your thighs. 

You kissed him back and spread your legs for his slender waist to slot in-between. He pulled his slacks lower, allowing the underside of his cock to spread your velvet folds, a heady but delicious pressure against your cunt. You pulled him in for a kiss and he groaned into your mouth as you canted your hips, your heart pulsing against his heavy cock. 

He was flushed. “I will be gentle, princess…”

You swallowed his words with another kiss, your legs knotting around to rut your hips against him. He panted into your mouth, his arm dipping to line himself with your entrance, and you clenched with your anticipation. 

Erryk pressed into you with a trembled control as your heat enveloped him fully. You were split apart with the most delicious fill; you mewled, pitiful, and his head fell forward, tucking into the curve of your neck. “Gods be good…” he rasped. 

Your fingers dimpled into his waist, encouraging his thrusts. His pace filled you sinfully, a slow roll of his hips that spurred a pleasure coiling within. You gasped against his chest, your nails biting into his skin as he quickened, going deeper, almost bruising. You felt your walls flutter around him, pulling another guttural groan from the back of his throat, his rasped whisper of your name buried into your hair. 

The euphony trilled your spine and you clenched with your second release. It pulled him over that precipice of pleasure, crashing like a tidal wave. Erryk melted against you, hot, pulsing deep within you, and you breathed in his skin, the same intoxicating scent mixed with olive oil and wax. 

He pulled away, the tender moment passing as duty resurfaced. 

You made a noise, pushing to sit upright and your head tilting to watch his heavy sway between his thighs as he walked back from the basin with a clean cloth in hand. Your eyes met with his and his brow arched in return, teasing; you caught his wrist and pulled him back into the bed, against your heart. 

Erryk twisted his face until it pressed into your skin, licking and kissing whatever his mouth could touch. You giggled, squirming until you could rest your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you. 

You did not want this night to end. “Do not leave me, Erryk.” 

“I am sworn to you, princess.” He reminded you, pressing his lips to your hairline. 

It was not what you wished to hear, but it was all you would get at this moment. You hummed, burying your face until his chest hair tickled, listening to the low thrum of his heartbeat. 

That night changed the monotony of the Red Keep. You thought of any reason to pull Erryk away from prying eyes; stolen kisses and touches that lingered, heating your skin. Your eyes now would flit to find him and see that he was always standing close, his gaze piercing through, settled onto you. 

When the sun tucked away into the horizon, he would slip through the passageway and back into your embrace, the intimate tangle of bare limbs abed with breathless kisses and secrets shared. He learned your body, an instrument to be mastered and a passion to taste you on his lips, staining his beard. He became your confidant, sharing the mutterings of the court; he was the one to warn you about the claimant for Driftmark. 

You wrote your mother at once.

It had been months since you left Dragonstone and you were excited to see her, your father and your siblings again. You were deciding on what gown to wear while Elinda was cleaning up, pulling your sheets away with a scowl on her face. 

You laughed at her expression. “What is it?”

She was perplexed. “I cannot recall your last moonsblood, princess,” she admitted, her lips pursed. “I feel that time seems to run itself together within these walls.” 

Her words ripped through you, but you said nothing, your expression as solid as the stones stacked to create the walls she referred to. Elinda finished tucking the corners before she noticed. “Princess! Are you okay–?” 

“I am fine,” you lied. “Help me with my dress.”

Underneath you were rattled, frightened with the revelation of life within you. Your disquiet settled away, disappearing once your mother arrived. You rushed to greet her, seeing her swollen with another heir in the making. Her silver brows knitted as she looked over the state of the Red Keep, and you wrapped an arm around your side, pulling you close to whisper: “It is even worse than what you described!” 

There was comfort in your mother’s arms and you pressed a kiss to her cheek. She looked at you a moment before her gaze fell back to Erryk, your ever dutiful-shadow noted. “Good ser, you have my eternal gratitude for keeping her safe.”

He was pink with her words. “Thank you, princess.” 

Her focus remained on him another moment before she looked back to you, her eyes now careful to comb over. You swallowed, unsure, and she said nothing as her attention was whisked away to her purposeful return to the Keep. 

The days that followed were tumultuous in the least, with a tension that spilled crimson on the floor of the Throne Room. Your stomach dropped from the wet sound of the two halves of Ser Vaemond hitting the stone floor, the smell of iron thick around you; Erryk moved in front of you to shield you away. 

King Viserys called for a supper that evening to mend the ever-growing rift, but instead emotions imploded, splitting the room in half. 

Erryk moved to wrap his hand around your arm at your mother’s command. Your father escorted your siblings and their betrotheds back to their rooms, his silver brow furrowing at you and your knight. 

Your footfalls echoed to keep with his pace, a numbed process of what had just happened. “I will have to return to Dragonstone,” you whispered when you felt certain it was just the two of you. “Wait for me.” 

Erryk looked at you before he stepped closer, cupping your jaw. It rooted you as he leaned to give you a chaste kiss, the warmth of his mouth searing through you. You stifled a sob when he pulled back to place another kiss to your hairline, another secret whispered against your skin. “I always have, princess.” 

Dragonstone was gray and dreary as you remembered, becoming a beacon for awful when the news came that the king was dead and that Prince Aegon II Targaryen now sat upon the throne. 

It wrenched through your mother and her hands pressed to her abdomen. The day waned with your father plotting at the very table the Conqueror laid plans, while your mother’s screams echoed throughout. You waited in the shadows, your hands pressing to protect your stomach; you prayed fervently to the gods, the old ones and the new, but they did not answer. 

A pyre was stacked for the bloody swaddle and you watched the flames swallow it, the heat licking your skin. Your mother was pale, her eyes empty as she watched the curl of smoke rise above, her morbid farewell to her child unborn. 

It was the swords unsheathed that pulled your attention, your heart pounding at the sound of his voice: “I mean no harm, brothers.” 

You swallowed your tears, watching as Erryk kneeled to the earth with his vow renewed. The setting sun gave an amber aura that reflected off the crown he pulled from his satchel, the same as King Jaehaerys’ and your grandsire after, the same that was placed on top of your mother’s head that commanded a rippled bow of respect from everyone around. 

Back inside, any unease was settled once Princess Rhaenys spoke of how he helped her escape from the Red Keep. Your mother forced a smile, her pain still haunting her features. “Your vow is to me, and to my family. You are to keep them safe, like before, like always.” 

And he nodded. 

With war burning on the horizon, its imminent threat that would swallow the Seven Realms, there was no moment spared where you could speak of the life created. You kept it cradled to your chest when you saw how war-wearied Erryk was already. His heart had been cleaved in two and one-half remained in charge of the usurper. 

It allowed a new desperation in the passion shared, a clash of teeth and tongues to taste whatever intimacy could be spared amidst the bloodshed. This ever-threat of life so fleeting is what pushed you to be bolder, which was why you were waiting for him outside the bathhouse one evening. 

You reached as he moved past you, your fingers tucking into his waistband to pull him into the shadows. Your royal apartment had a path that weaved as an escape, and tonight you used it to bring him back with you, to allow a moment to forget the inevitable that was coming. 

“Princess…” he started, but you stopped him with a kiss. 

“I missed you,” you confessed against his lips. “I need to feel you.”

Your room was basked in candlelight and you pulled him through the passageway, turning to dip your hand below his waistband, your hand pressed on his half-hard cock. It pulsed against your palm and you moved closer to place a kiss on his neck.

He sighed his pleasure and his torment. “Princess,” he tried again, but you would not let him. 

You nipped at his skin, halting his words, and he smothered a groan while your other hand pulled at his drawstrings. “Let me,” you breathed, and his skin rose in response. 

He felt heavy in your hands that wrapped around him. You stole another kiss before your chin dropped to your chest, your spit falling from your tongue and onto his cock. 

Erryk hissed as you stroked his length, watching as he jerked with another low moan. Your hand held onto his hip to lower to your knees, your other wrapping around the base and bringing his flushed cockhead against your tongue. You pressed a kiss and were rewarded with a groan that rumbled through him; your tongue trailed the side of his cock, feeling every vein and ridge, and you placed another kiss on the underside. 

His fingers combed through your hair, watching as you pulled back to watch you take him inch-by-inch, with your hand holding onto what could not fit. His hips bucked into your mouth, bruising the back of your throat, and you groaned, a heat pooling between your thighs. 

Your mouth and hand worked in tandem, working his cock until you felt it twitch with his pearly spend, his briny taste against your tongue. He shuddered, pulling back to sink to his knees, cupping your face and pulling you close for a messy kiss. 

“My turn,” he whispered, standing and pulling you to follow, his eyes lust-blown. 

You sank into the mattress and Erryk kneeled before you, an altar to be worshiped. His palm pressed to your cunt and his fingers spread your folds, allowing his tongue to run along your slit. You shivered as he pressed further, his tongue now carving into you with a well-known intimacy that made your toes curl. 

Afterwards, Erryk curled into you and your fingers ran through his still damp hair, the occasional pause to press another kiss to his scalp. “I am sworn to you,” he was quiet, his voice barely above your heart beat. “But you are so much more to me.” 

Your heart swelled in your chest. “I know,” you kissed your knight again. “I… love you too, Erryk.” 

He hummed against you, burrowing into the softness of your skin. His words replayed in your mind, giving you the courage that you needed, but your mother already called you to her chambers the next night. 

When you entered, she dismissed Ser Lorent, who locked the door behind him. Her eyes settled on you and your throat tightened. Her face was drawn, thinner, a woman shattered by all the blood spilled and plagued by the fact that more was yet to come. 

You remained standing, waiting as her eyes poured over you. She took a breath before she said, “I already know.” 

It was a relief, it was terror. Your stomach dropped and you looked to see Elinda busying herself with whatever her hands could find. Damn her. “I wished to tell you myself,” you admitted, your fists balled at your sides until your nails pierced through to the bones. 

Her eyes steeled in return, her jaw set. “Who is he?” 

Instead, you answer with, “I love him.” 

“That was not what I asked,” she snapped in a way that both you and Elinda flinched with her words that were scalding with her anger. “Your queen asked who is the father of the child that you carry.” 

But you saw her tears were threatening to spill, her face blotched with her anger. You pressed your hands to your stomach, the new habit formed over the last few weeks. “It is Ser Erryk Cargyll.” 

She closed her eyes, a fury now thrumming. “I should have fucking known…” 

“And how is it any different from what you shared with Ser Harwin?” You could not stop your tongue, her temperament reflecting. 

“You truly wish to repeat the follies of my heart, you daft girl?” She hissed, her tears spilling. “We are on the cusp of a civil war because… I allowed my heart to choose instead committing to the duty that I am bound to by my blood, the very same within your veins.” Her hand pressed to her chest, a sob caught in her throat. “And that choice is the consequence that I now suffer every day.” 

You wanted to glare, to fight back, but you saw her torment. Her tears spilling called to you and you moved to her bedside, melting into her. She fell into your arms with sobs that wracked her body. She held onto you and you remained, allowing her grief to pour over. 

Behind, you heard the other door opening. Your mother looked up from your chest, wiping her face. “Ser Erryk?” 

A cold-fire twisted into your stomach when you saw him, knowing at once that he was not the man you were in love with. The imposter knight stepped closer, unsheathing his sword. He sounded pained. “Believe me, I had no choice.” 

“Brother!”

Over his shoulder, you saw Erryk, his sword drawn and his eyes wild. “Do not do this. I beg you.” 

There was a clash of steel, of heartbreak and betrayal. Your mother screamed at Elinda, but she remained cemented to the cobblestone, stricken with her fear. She grabbed your hand to pull you from the bed, your legs buckling and your heart screaming to stay. You followed after your mother, remembering too late that the door was locked, and you looked over the room for a weapon, an escape. 

Erryk yelled when the sword cut through his thigh. 

Your fear pulled you outside of your body to see your hands resting to shield your stomach, the smell of blood rich in the night air. You prayed to the gods, a cursed habit, and again, they ignored you. 

You blinked to focus. Arryk fell first, a sword splayed through his stomach, and you looked to Erryk, your relief fleeting when you saw the dagger buried between his ribs. He looked at you, his knees buckling, collapsing to the floor with the clatter of iron. 

Your mother ran for the door, screaming for the maesters, for anyone to come and aid. You rushed to his side, your slippers slick in the blood that was pouring out on the stone, staining the pale silk of your nightgown. You lifted his head to rest on your lap, your trembling touch unsure if you could even staunch the scarlett flow. 

“I cannot do this without you,” you pleaded, your hands pressing around the hilt; his blood bubbled between your fingers. “I need you, Erryk. Our babe needs you!”

Erryk looked at you as if you were the sun itself, a dawning realization that washed over with your words. Your heart wrenched from your chest when you looked at him, a choked sob when you saw the red that stained his smile. 

His lips parted, but no words would come. Instead you watched as the blue of his eyes faded to gray with his last breath.  

You leaned over him, your tears spilling, and you pressed a kiss to his brow, your blood-stained fingers gentle to cradle the head of your devoted knight.

hotd masterlist || arcie's navi

[yandereforme]

Yan!Mafia Batfamily x reader

Part 1:Introduction and Duke

TW: Mentions of murder, mention of harassment

After Bruce’s parents died, Bruce began having the same mindset Red Hood/Jason had in canon; You can’t eradicate crime, but you can control it.

He soon built a persona of the bat, a mafia boss that everyone knew and feared/loved. This is a less moral Batman, who doesn’t personally kill, but has nothing against murder if it’s just.(Justice remains a part of his mission.)

This leads to a slightly more complicated bat family, with each of them playing a vital role as their counterparts, and Robin being the term used for shadowing the big bat, and learning the ropes. (If you want me to expand on that part, let me know$

No one knows the Wayne’s are the Batfam, but they all know they are vaguely connected, with many suspecting a relationship between Bruce and The Bat or The Bat being an illegitimate child of Thomas Wayne(though neither theory is voiced in earshot of the Wayne’s. Connected to the Bat or not, the Wayne family is still terrifying.)

Most people are pretty scared of the Waynes and the Bats like, fearing them and avoiding them 

You, on the other hand, could give less of a shit about them.

You are an orphan with good grades and even better computer skills. So while everyone believed you lived with your parents who traveled, and that you were 17 to your actual age of 13, you got away with living on your own and working a part time job. Working as a waitress wasn’t terrible, though you occasionally had to deal with Karens and harassment.

However, after a terrible night at work where a Karen poured her drink over you and a drunk idiot slapped your ass, you had run out of willingness to deal with bullshit. So, when a trust fund brat tried to make you move from your seat in the library, you refused, glaring at the blurry person standing next to you, ignoring the gasps from the students around you.

You expected him to yell at you, or let his companion, who was glaring hard at you, deal with you. Instead, he spoke briefly with his friend in a language you didn’t recognize. After a minute or so, they both sat down and quietly studied with you

Duke was charmed by your behavior. It has been a long time since anyone outside of the family had said no to him. The look of anger in your eyes was belied by pure exhaustion. He knew you had no clue who he was, and you were too tired to care.

You were interesting. So Duke didn’t let Damian yell at you or (attempt to) intimidate you.(while Damien was very intimidating when he had to be, Duke had a feeling you would not care in the slightest.)

So Duke convinced Damian to sit with him while he observed you studying, instead of discussing Bat business like they had planned. He had known of you, and Duke remembered you being in a few of his classes, but this stunt caught his interest too much to let you go.

You weren’t sure why, but apparently the Wayne kid (or Duke as he insisted you call him) seemed charmed by you basically telling him to fuck off. He started partnering with you in classes when he would normally work alone. He started eating his lunches with you in the library or in the auditorium, even having his brother join you on occasion.

You slowly got used to his presence, and even became begrudgingly fond of him and his little brother, even though his brother tended to stare at you more often than not. You hadn’t had very many friends for a long time, so maybe this was gonna be a good thing.

A big thing with Duke Thomas was that while he may seem calm, he is one of the most calculating of the Yanderes. He will always appear to be on your side, but unable to help you. He will become one of your closest confidence trusted friend , all without you realizing how much of a manipulative and possessive Yandere he is. He just knows that letting you have more of an illusion of power will help in the long run of making you like him.

So for now he’ll be content, letting you slowly come to him, similar to a feral cat. You’ll adore him soon enough. Come to think of it, you might make an excellent addition to the family.~

Edit: Life has been hitting me like a semi truck. I won’t go into too much detail, but I just ended a long-term relationship, had one of my grandparents die, and the other have a stroke. There’s a bunch of other stuff I also could mention, but I don’t wanna talk about it. Updates will be very sporadic for a long time I think. I’m sorry and I really hope you guys understand. Got enough motivation today to finally finish the first part of the Mafia au. Don’t know when I’ll be updating any of the other ones. I really hope you like this.

[writingoddess1125]

How Strong the old men Genes are!

Funny little Headcanon for the Old Men!

Enjoy!

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Buggy

• Buggy has a curse of twins. No matter what if he gets a women pregnant It will result in him having twins.

• Due to the fact his first few sexual acquaintances were 'Paying Lovers' he does collect his kids and either has them apart of the crew or finds them a very nice homes if they aren't interested in being a Pirate.

• His kids do look like him but it's a healthy mix- His eyes and Hair Color seemingly to be his strongest genes since each of his kids has at least one of those unique characteristics.

• When he gets with his S/O who he also has twins with he is open about it.

• Has only gotten a few people pregnant but due to the twins curse- it's a lot of kids.

• Buggy much to everyone surprise is very good with kids. Especially babies.

• Maybe it plays on his power trip but having a little being that loves you unconditionally and needs you 24/7 plays well for him.

• Will buy nice clothes, dress them, feed them, play with them and even teach them everything he knows.

• His S/O is proud to see how good he is with kids. Proud of such a development. Will press him to collect/find the rest of his crotch goblins

• Gets a message from a old flame saying they no longer want their kids due to their line of work. How they are 4 and he needs to get them before they are in a orphanage.

• Hauls ass to go to Chi Chi Town to get his last batch of Twins before he got with his S/O

• "Let me guess- Twins right?" He said blandly to the madame of the brothel house, who nods in surprise. "Why yes- How did you know?-"

• "Lucky Guess. Now go get them" He says blandly as the Madame goes to the nursery area and retrieves the two twin toddlers, He doesn't even need to confirm as he sees the headful of blue hair.

• Takes them without a fuss and walks off to add to his growing collection of kids.

• Has a total of 12 Kids, all twins and he's done. No more for him-

Shanks

• Ah Poor Shanks- The Players Curse! Only Girls, He has just an ungodly amount of daughters.

• He doesn't even know we're they are till he walks through a village and sees a girl that looks a lot like him.

• All of them have red hair- No matter what. Curly, straight, Wavy but their hair is always red.

• "I'm your father! Goodness you look so lovely!" He gushes about each daughter and treats them individually. Spending as much time as he can with them and will buy them things they are interested in.

• Still prefers his single players life so doesn't settle with anyone. However running into old flames often means meeting new kids.

• Surprisingly remembers all his kids names, will write them letters constantly.

• Will he thrilled if any of them ate interested in pirating- his oldest of kids may already be working on another Pirates ship.

• Surprisingly large amount are actually Marines! So he gets special privileges of his daughters using their political power to not get him arrested-

• Introduces every daughter he has to the crew.

• The crew Secretly has a tally-board of how many kids Shanks has in the crews quarters

• "Hey Ben! How many does this new girl make?" Lucky Roux called out as he tossed the chalk to Yasopp

• "28nd girl-" Ben says calmly and smirks as Yasopp adds another Tally to the board.

• "28 Girls and 1 Boy. Good on you Luffy" The crew laughs at the stupidity of it all.

Mihawk

• Mihawk will never say it out loud but- He was a man-whore in his youth. A Massive Man-Whore.

• Knows he has a lot of bastard kids. But will at the moment only focus on the one he has with his S/O.

• When his permanent S/O finds out that Mihawk has a lot of illegitimate children they urge him to meet and even help his kids.

• At first he begrudgingly agreed- Only because his S/O asked him. Assuming he only had a good handful-

• He was wrong- So very very Wrong.

• It wasn't until he went out to collect them did he realize it was a good Idea what his S/O had suggested-

• Many of his children were in less then savorable situations. Some in orphanages, the streets picking through trash, even others working as servants or worse.

• What started as a scoffing agreement turned into the biggest rescue mission of his life.

• Once done he had the grand total of 87 Kids.

• His genes being incredibly strong since his kids all looked like him- to at least some degree.

• The main indicator was the yellow eyes- Damn near every child had his eyes. Some had his dark hair or his stoic features. But it was mainly his eyes-

• Is quiet around kids and even a bit awkward. Especially when they are in the adolescent age and talk far too much for his taste.

• By the end the castle back on his Island was actually at full occupancy. Every room filled and some of the smaller children even sharing rooms.

• He ended up hiring a full staff as well to help care for the children, especially any younger ones.

• Cost him a fortune- His wallet screaming at him buying more food, clothes, staffing, medical care and toys.

• S/O is happy since now the castle is so alive and filled with life. Makes them happy

• Mihawk laying in bed before he gets jumped on by kids. Scrambling awake as he sees 5 of his younger children laughing at seeing his startled face and runs off like little imps-

• Younger children haven't figured out to be afraid of him yet so they will run over him. He will be sitting there trying to read while a 3 year old uses him as a jungle gym.

•Secretly loves it-

• Loves having his home so warm and oddly realizes He may have been lonely before-

• "Mihawk I'm only counting 85 in bed-" His S/O calls out. Having a tradition of telling all the kids goodnight, He raises his brow at this as he sets down his wine glass and book of the evening.

[rie-092]

CURSED CHILD

chapter two : the rumour.

summary : clopeh can't enter the henituse museum without finishing his book length prayer for his cale-nim.

★﹒ ( First name ) doesn't know if Clopeh Sekka has things for redheads. But there was a thing that she was sure of, Clopeh is a certified crazy bastard. He was worse than that dragon who commits arson and burns down a whole damn mountain while laughing like a madman. And what's the reason why he did that? Simple, because he was sleep deprived and the elementals won't let him have his peaceful sleep.

The girl deadpanned at the sight in front of her. Clopeh had promised that he would take her out to a museum today. So that's the main reason for the extravagant outfit that the staff of the orphanage prepared for her. But, before they could even enter this damn museum, Clopeh had his hands clasped as he recited a prayer.

Does.... He finally lost his mind? The little redhead crossed her small arms as she looked at Clopeh. Her hands were sweating to the fact that people were looking at them. While her lips unconsciously pouted. Fuck, her child's senses were screaming at her to throw a fit right here, right now to get this bastard's attention.

So, instead of doing that. She tugged the end of the cape of the knight who was escorting them. "Uh... Mister... Is sir Clopeh alright? He's been like that since earlier."

The knight sweatdropped at her question, he awkwardly scratched his cheeks and crouched down at ( first name )'s level. "Little miss, the young master is always like this when uh.. visiting this museum."

"Why?" The little girl innocently asked. "Because he is obse— I mean, he idolizes the firstborn of the family who founded this museum."

( First name ) couldn't help but notice how forced the knight's expression was. He was practically praying to Angela, the God of War, the God of Death and whatever mythical creature that this kid would stop asking him about his liege's weird habits. Yeah, this is considered weird— but just remember that one time when he accidentally entered Clopeh's room and those concerning amount of pictures and drawings of the Young Master Henituse plastered on his liege's room. It was more than enough to traumatise his poor self.

' Maybe I should ask the Duke for a bonus.' he thought.

"Okay." ( First name ) simply said, as the knight's face brightened. "I'm going to look around, Mister! Please tell me when Sir Clopeh came back to reality!"

( First name ) waved her small hand at the knight as she started looking around the museum. Then, a certain painting caught her attention. She noticed how detailed the painting was. And how beautiful the man in the painting is. He was wearing a commander's uniform and had a small smile on his face.

"Pretty." Her reddish brown eyes shone as she looked at the painting. She was caught up in her small words where she was cursing the gods and goddesses for being unfair to her because she wasn't able to get the beauty of this red-haired man in this painting. She wasn't able to hear the murmurs of the people around her.

All of them were flabbergasted because of one thing. They've seen a peculiar sight of a small redhead that looks a lot like their Young master Silver Shield! What? And this kid was looking at Cale Henituse's portrait with those longing expression (when the truth is she was planning the whole event where she will be burning all temples of the God of Death and Angela, the Sun Goddess across the continent) does the young master has an illegitimate child that the people doesn't know of?!

As they started making their gossip inside their little brains. Clopeh's knight had already called for ( first name ) saying that Clopeh was looking for her and they should go to a restaurant nearby instead of staying here. Because Clopeh wasn't able to finish his one book-length prayer and he couldn't enter the Henituse Museum without finishing it.

"Okay." ( First name ) stoically said as she walked away from the painting. Not even aware that a certain orange-haired butler had seen her and now he was speechless and couldn't move from his spot.

Hans, that butler has his jaw dropped as he remembers the little girl that he saw earlier. Those lazy reddish brown eyes that can look down at you like you were some kind of dirty insect were very similar to his liege! That crimson hair! And those mannerisms!

Hans swallowed hard as he started hesitating whether he should tell it to Cale or the Duke himself. But then, decided that the Duke had the right to know about the existence of his granddaughter.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Later that day, those rumours about Cale having an illegitimate child that he kept from the public's eyes had already spread to the Roan Kingdom and the other neighbouring kingdoms. Those rumours kept on getting more and more ridiculous.

And Cale Henituse, the person on the rumour was now laying inside his room on the Henituse estate while sleeping. Ah, slacker life, how sweet it is. He can sleep 15 hours straight now and can laze around after all of those shits that he got involved with. His lips then curved into a sweet smile as he opened his eyes. Only to find two pairs of cat eyes and a pair of dragon's blue eyes staring at him.

"What the fuc—"

Cale almost falls from his bed after seeing his children, On, Hong, and Raon staring at him. He was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed that everyone, by everyone I mean the Molans, Choi Han, Lock, Rosalyn, Mary, and Eruhabe was staring at him with those eerie smiles.

"What?!"

"Unlucky bastard, tsk, tsk." Eruhaben shook his head making Cale more confused. "Cale-nim." This time it was Choi Han who was looking at Cale with a hint of betrayal in his eyes.

What the heck is going on?

This time, Rosalyn chuckled as she spoke in amusement. "Have you heard the news, Young master Cale? The crown prince had fainted."

"What? Why?"

"Because he heard that his younger sworn brother has a secret child that looks a lot like him." Cale deadpanned, is that so? But then he realized something causing his eyes to widen. He is Alberu's only sworn brother! "Huh? What the fuck?!"

"So, be honest to us young master-nim." Ron spoke with his benign smile. "Young master-nim, are you hiding something from us~?"

Vicious people. Cale suddenly wanted to escape this hellish place. What the heck are they talking about?! What secret child?! What happened while he was asleep?!

Then, Hans barged into his room. "Mister Ron! The Duke has fainted!" Fuck it, let him sleep slack in peace!

[corpsebasil]

Just Friends 18+

You could not. Stop. Laughing.

You tripped over the edge of the couch and squeaked, almost hitting the floor before Nikolai wrapped an arm around your waist, catching you easily. Your husband fought for breath as well; you didn’t even remember what the hell he’d said that was so funny. And then you did.

A courtier during dinner had remarked on how cute the two of you were. You’d gave Nikolai the most aggressive side eye of your life, and he barely clamped down a laugh before winking at you.

“My wife outshines me, I’m sure.” He drawled, reaching over to twine his fingers with your own.

“She’s beautiful, yes.” The courtier smiled, pleased with his attention, and then looked to you, raising her delicate brows. “If it’s not too intrusive, will the court be expecting any princesses or princes soon?”

You’d coughed, choking on your wine at the prospect. You and Nikolai were a political alliance, arranged since you two were children; you had the chemistry of a science lab, unfortunately, but it only resulted in him being your closest friend and the easiest man to tease of your life.

“Oh yes.” Nikolai gave you the side eye this time, silently urging you to play the part. And then his next comment made your face go completely red. “Between you and me, I plan on bedding her as soon as this dinner is finished.”

You kicked his leg under the table, shooting him a look, and the courtier blushed madly.

“Oh my, that’s—” she blinked with embarrassment and found her napkin suddenly extremely interesting, giving up on a civilized conversation with the king.

So now the two of you were in your rooms, both still hot with amusement at how shamelessly he’d lied to the courtier.

“You’re a bastard.” You gasped, jumping away to head to the bedroom. He followed, still grinning, and watched as you set your crown on the side table like it was a watch, tugging at the laces on the back of your dress. “Shit, can you—”

“Yep.” His fingers found your stays as he undid them, used to having done this for you before. He’d had no idea how difficult women’s dresses were before he’d married you, watching you hop around in vain, reaching for strings just out of grasp. “And technically, sweetheart, I am a bastard.”

“If you’re a bastard I’m a usurper.” You groaned out loud when the corset finally loosened, allowing you to get a proper damn breath for once. “You’re as illegitimate as I am. Besides,” you turned and raised a brow, reaching out to unbutton the first few clasps of his shirt. “all monarchy is kind of illegitimate, don’t you think?”

“I love it when we think the same.”

You smiled as you worked, your hands lingering on the smooth material of his shirt as your eyes drank in the smooth, golden skin of his chest. You felt briefly distracted, fingertips reaching out to touch him, just a soft graze, before you sucked in a breath and whirled around.

“I’m running a bath.” You said, cheeks warming all over again, ignoring the feel of his curious eyes on your back.

The water warmed quickly, the large claw-footed tub spacious enough that you could sprawl out completely inside the thing. You added soaps and oils, turning the water milky white, then for fun added a couple of dried petals you saw in your shared bath-cabinet.

“Nik?” You called into the livingroom as you tied your hair up, clipping it into a pile of curls on the top of your head. “Could you get us a nightcap?”

You heard his noise of agreement as you stepped out of your clothes, slipping one dainty foot and then the other into the water. You sighed as you sank down into the warmth, the water reaching just above your chest as you pulled your knees up and wrapped your arms around them.

You heard Nikolai’s feet on the tile as he came into the bathroom, handing you a glass.

“What’s with you and your fancy baths?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the tub with a raised brow. He’d finished unbuttoning his shirt completely and it hung open, a clear view of his ridiculously chiseled top half on display. You ignored the sight and took a long sip of your drink.

“Better than roughing it with a garden hose and a three-in-one body wash like you and your men do in your war camps.”

Your husband laughed and shook his head slightly, agreeing wholeheartedly with you.

“That water hose is dangerous.” He confided, eyes widening comically. “Especially when the water pressure is too high. Could take your skin off.”

You giggled, setting your glass down beside the tub as you propped your elbows on your knees. His eyes wandered over your exposed skin, never lingering for too long anywhere, but you still felt the weight of his stare like an invisible hand.

“How come you’ve never tried to make a move on me?” You asked, brave only because of the drink, and his smirk was only half-hearted.

“I don’t take shots I think I’m going to miss, Y/N.”

Your smile was cautious as you reached out, grasping his hand. And then your expression turned wicked, and he barely had time to set his drink down, already protesting, before you yanked him into the tub. Your laugh was booming and, in Nikolai’s opinion, completely diabolical, as he wiped water from his eyes while he adjusted his back against the opposite side of the tub, his clothes completely soaked.

“You,” he said, jabbing an irritated finger, “are the bane of my existence. I swear on every Saint that you are.”

“You love me.” You teased, grinning fiendishly, but your heart skipped a beat when his expression seemed to soften, his eyeroll too late to save the moment of vulnerability. “You’re not going to miss, Nik. If you try it.” You added, scanning his face, and his smile grew mischievous.

“No?” He asked, voice low, but his eyes darkened when you moved forward, coming over to straddle his lap in the water. Your upper half was completely bare to him, your breath catching when his hands slid around your waist, running soft touches against your skin. “Y/N,” he swallowed roughly. “if we’re still joking, it ends here. Because,” he shook his head, still examining your naked torso. “Saints.”

“Still the bane of your existence?” You asked, voice quiet, as you slipped your hands around his neck and kissed him as soft as you dared.

You both seemed to inhale at the same time, his arms gripping you tighter as your heart dropped into your stomach. He was your friend, your best friend but—you were also married to the man. Surely that entitled some sorts of…physical benefits.

“That courtier doesn’t even know you weren’t lying.” You smiled a bit arrogantly, pulling back to shove his sodden shirt off of him. It hit the tile next to the tub in a wet splat, and both your heads turned at the sound.

“We’ll get it later.” Nikolai promised, and then grasped your face in his hands, kissing you hard. He let out a small noise of pleasure against your mouth and, when his tongue brushed your lips, you let him in.

Your eyes practically rolled back when he grounded you down into him, and suddenly he was way too clothed for your liking. The water sloshed as you pulled away and reached down, yanking at his trousers.

“This would’ve been much more convenient, darling, if you would’ve asked me to get naked before I got in the water.”

“Just—” you huffed in annoyance but finally got them down his hips, and he lifted you up for a moment as he pulled them off, the soaked clothing joining his shirt with another comical splat.

You both laughed, then, at the ridiculousness, but your laughter quickly died in your throat when he scooped you back up into his lap and began kissing your neck, his other hand moving lower, and lower. You gasped when he nipped your skin in the same moment he ran his fingers across you, then slid inside, curling gently as he hit the spot that made your stomach drop.

“You taste oddly floral.” He mused, running his tongue over your skin as he lazily fucked you with his fingers.

“Oh my god, Nik.” You whispered, slipping a hand into his hair to wrap around the blond curls.

“Yes, wife?”

“I want you.”

“Where? Tell me, love.”

You glanced down at him and gave him an annoyed look that faltered the second his fingers curled again, making your breaths heave in your chest. So you leaned into him, kissing him deeply before you spoke.

“I want you inside me.” You said against his mouth, and when you pulled away his eyes were so lust filled that the pang of desire that rushed through you would’ve knocked you on your ass had you been standing.

Nikolai didn’t say a word, only removed his hand and guided you further up over him, and you sank down on him in a smooth motion that made your head spin. He let out a gasping noise and gripped your waist, both of you struggling to breathe through the pleasure.

“You feel—” his voice was so hoarse and low you got chills. “shit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, and slipped your arms around his neck, rolling your hips against his.

The water wasn’t nearly as warm as your skin as he thrust up, tugging your hips down to meet him every time. Your face pressed against his shoulder, your breathing ragged, and then you squeaked when he stood up suddenly, sending water sloshing onto the floor.

“Nik!” You yelped, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, changing the angle to a new, burning one. He kissed you as he walked, exiting the bathroom, ignoring your giggling protests as the both of you got water all over the floor. “Nikolai stop it you’re soaking the floor.”

“We’re soaking the floor, love. And the couch.”

“The—?” Your words were cut off when he laid you on top of the couch, settling back into you, snapping his hips against your own so hard you gasped, almost knocking your head against the arm of the couch. “Nikolai—”

“Fuck.” He groaned, burying his face in your neck as you took him, every inch of his gorgeous body pressed tight against yours.

You inhaled sharply when the sudden coil of pleasure, building so fast you’d hardly sensed it, snapped, and you let out a cry as he held you tighter to him, not letting you move an inch. He let out a soft moan against your skin and shuddered, the both of you trembling as you came down from the high. And then he was scooping you back up, into his lap, your breathing shallow as your heart raced in your chest.

“So,” Nikolai’s chest rose and fell quickly, his hands sliding up your bare, still wet back as his eyes studied your flushed face. “should I consider this a one time thing, or—”

You cut him off with a bruising kiss, your chest warm with an emotion you couldn’t place, especially when he kissed you back, a hand slipping into your wet hair and undoing the clip that held it up. As it tumbled around your shoulders he smiled softly, running his fingers through the strands.

“You’ve got gorgeous hair, you know that?” He said, tone almost contemplative, even as you blushed. His lips found your own again, soft and sweet, before he lifted you again, this time headed to your bed.

“Oh no,” you protested, grabbing the doorframe as you passed, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. “we are not getting in bed wet. I refuse.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” Nikolai sighed, setting you down and heading off to get towels.

You watched him go, fighting an internal squeal as you realized exactly what you’d just done. And holy gods the man knew what he was doing when he made love. You grinned involuntarily as your eyes landed on your crown, even though you knew he’d tease you mercilessly if he saw what a girlish mess you’d become after he’d kissed and—

“Y/N?” You almost jumped out of your skin at his sudden words, spinning around to snatch a towel from him. His eyes glimmered with amusement, raising an eyebrow. “Daydreaming about me?”

“Of course not.” You lied, drying off and slipping a nightgown over your head. “I was thinking about chocolate. It’s very delicious.”

“Want me to get you some?” He offered, still amused, and you rolled your eyes.

“No. Now get in bed so I can kiss you again.”

His laughter was cut off by your mouth when you turned the lights off and practically pounced on him, his body warm and perfect against your own. You kissed for a while, just kissing, learning each other all over again as his hands ran over your skin, yours in his hair and grasping the back of his neck.

And the next morning, when a maid came in to bring tea and saw the absolute mess you two had made, water drying on the tiles and your sodden clothes by the still full tub, she blushed profusely and quickly left, not bothering to wait for dismissal.

[winterarmyy]

Against All Odds | Part II

An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.4k++

Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, sprinkles of fluff, death, blood, violence, a truck load of angst, heartbreak, and honestly… just raw pain. so, i'd say grab a box of tissue or a shoulder to cry on, just in case.

A/N: i am sorry for what is about to happen in this chapter. but, please know that I love you. and oh, did i mention that release date is based on my local time zone (UTC+08:00)? anyway, I hope you enjoy your time.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N was stirred awake from her dreamless sleep by none other than the restless movements on the shared bed. Blinking her eyes open, the dim light from the moon intruded her sight; her blurry vision glanced across the room, the light casted a pale glow on the surface. On her side, Bucky was tossing and turning; his face contorted in utter distress. His muscular body was taut, sweat glistening on his skin. His breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, and his hands clutched on the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.

“Please, no, please,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with desperation. Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him in such torment. Reaching out, her hands gently touching his arm. His skin was clammy and hot, his muscles twitched under her fingertips. She could feel the frantic pulse under his skin, the erratic rhythm mirroring the chaos in his mind.

“Bucky,” she called softly, her voice laced with concern. “Bucky, wake up.” She sat up and leaned over him. Her hand moving to his sweaty scalp; caressing through his hair, gentle and soothing. “It’s okay, Bucky. You’re okay. Please, open your eyes.”

Bucky’s body jerked as he jolted awake causing his wife to startle at his sudden movement. His eyes wide and unfocused as the salty tears spilled from the corners. His haunted gaze stared into the void, his chest heaving, body shivering. He seemed disoriented, his heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the world around him. Y/N’s voice, however, managed to pierce through the ringing in his ears. 

Her words were like a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness of his mind. Each gentle whisper seemed to pull him further from the grip of his nightmare, grounding him back in the reality where he was safe and loved. She repeated his name, each utterance calm and reassuring, hoping to anchor him to the present. “Bucky?”, her tone soft; filled with worry. 

He blinked, finally able to see her. “Y/N?” His voice sounded small and broken compared to his large and seemingly powerful build. It was a voice filled with vulnerability, a voice that seemed almost alien coming from someone who is usually so strong. His eyes, typically so steely and determined, were now wide and clouded with fear and confusion; lingered with trails of terror from whatever it was he saw behind his closed eyes.

It pained her to see him like this, reduced to a shadow of the man she knew. The dissonance between his imposing physique and the fragility in his voice was contradicting, making her heart ache for him even more. “Yes, Bucky. It’s me,” she replied gently, her hands delicately traced his clenched fists; drawing meaningless circles around his knuckles.

For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real; sitting so close for him touch. Her bare skin glistened underneath the moonlight. The soft pink of her cheeks and lips, the bright gleam of her eyes; it made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. An epitome of warmth and light; she looked so… alive. 

Within seconds, without warning, Bucky’s body surged forward, engulfing her in a fierce embrace.  “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His body shaking with silent sobs. She could feel his breath, hot and ragged against her skin, each exhale filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely displayed.

She held him tightly, her hands running soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her heart ached for him, for the pain that he was obviously carrying alone. Her thoughts raced, wondering what kind of demons were haunting his dreams, what kind of pain he was enduring. She felt a fierce protectiveness grew within her, a desperate need to comfort and shield him from whatever it was that tormented him. Each sob that wracked his body seemed to pierce her own heart, deepening her resolve to be his strength.

Bucky’s body trembled with suppressed sobs, as she continued to stroke his hair, whispering soothing words until his breathing began to steady and his tears slowed. She could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, his muscles relaxing under her touch. 

Her whispers were a constant reassurance, a reminder that he was not alone, that she was there. Each stroke of her hand, each soft word, was a promise of her unwavering support and love. She could feel him clinging to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

As Bucky reluctantly pulled away from her arms, she looked up at his broken state; noting the redness in his eyes and nose, the tear stains on his scruffy cheeks, “What’s wrong, my love?” she asked softly, wiping away the remaining tears flowing. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were filled with determination. 

It had been a few months into their marriage, and the seasons had changed since Y/N had first arrived at Bucky’s mansion. The cold, snowy landscape of winter had gradually given way to the bloom of spring, and with it, the promise of new beginnings. 

In those early days, Y/N’s feelings for Bucky had been built on a foundation of simple trust. As his wife, she had expected to offer support and loyalty, and in return, she hoped for a stable companionship. Yet, it didn't take long for those initial feelings to deepen into something far more profound. 

She had been drawn to his warmth and the vulnerability he rarely showed to others. It was in the quiet moments, when they were alone, that she began to see a different side of him. Far from the heinous rumours people blatantly consume; a side that was not just a fierce protector, but also a man capable of deep affection.

Yet, amidst the beauty of their budding romance, one thing had remained constant: Bucky's nightmares. They were not as frequent as they had been at the start, but they were consistent, recurring often enough to disrupt their otherwise peaceful nights. 

Y/N had grown accustomed to waking in the middle of the night to find him thrashing in his sleep, his brow furrowed in anxiety, his breaths sounding fractured, his skin sticky with sweat. However, she had never seen him like this; tears freely fell from his eyes, looking so fragile and broken. It was both heart-wrenching and humbling to witness. She worried about him, about the torment he seemed to carry within him. She longed to understand the source of his pain, to be his support system even for a little bit.

She continued to gently probe him to tell her the truth; to share his darkness only for him to shake his head, tears filling up yet again as he unwilling to put his pain into words. Instead of speaking out, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his lips conveying a need that went beyond physical desire. His hands caressed her bare skin, tender and fervent, as if seeking solace in her touch. Each kiss was a wordless plea, a desperate attempt to find comfort and reassurance in the only way he knew how. His touch conveyed an urgent need, a gentle exploration that spoke of his love and longing for her. The desperation in his kiss was clearly evident, a tangible manifestation of the torment he was trying to escape.

Y/N responded with equal tenderness, understanding that this moment was about comfort and connection, not lust. She understood that he needed this, and though she longed to know what was haunting him and hoped to share his burden, however, she respected his silence. It was his story to tell after all, so for now she’ll let him hold her. To have their bodies entwined the way he wanted; to let him have the relief he so hopelessly craved for.

Bucky’s love was passionate yet filled with love that she felt tears pricking at her own eyes. She sensed the depth of his emotions; in each thrust into her heat, in every trembling whisper of “i love you”s, every drop of his warmth spilling into her. She could feel the weight of his sorrow, the intensity of his need for her. Her heart swelled with deep affection, her own tears mixing with his as they clung to each other. She wanted to take away his pain, to be his sanctuary in this moment of vulnerability.

Y/N sat in the sunlit parlour, the soft rays of the morning sun casting a golden hue over the elegant room. Her fingers traced the delicate patterns on her teacup, her thoughts drifting as she absently stirred her tea. Across from her, Wanda sipped her tea with a relaxed smile, her demeanour calm and inviting. Despite the serene setting, Y/N’s mind was occupied with the troubling events of the previous night.

Wanda’s eyes, sharp and perceptive, caught the distant look on Y/N’s face. She tilted her head slightly, her tone teasing yet concerned. “What’s on your mind, Y/N? Has Bucky been bullying you again?” The playful tone was intended to lighten the mood, but Y/N’s thoughts were remained dark.

A soft laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, and she shook her head, a genuine smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. “No, far from it. Bucky has always been a sweetheart, you know that.” she replied, her voice warm with fondness as her thoughts wandered back to her husband. 

Wanda scoffed softly, “If making you walk weird every morning is not bullying to you, I don’t know what is.” She was quick with her wit of banter. Y/N shook her head as her cheeks glowed with a pinkish shade. Her memories meandered to the time when she had first settled into their new home in the northern region. 

The shift from the bustling capital to this colder, more serene landscape had been a significant change, but one she embraced with open arms. It was the beginning of winter, and the snow painted the landscape in a pristine blanket of white. The gentle snowflakes drifted down, and beneath the thin layer of snow, resilient flowers continued to bloom. The contrast was beautiful and invigorating; a sense of peace and tranquillity engulfed her.

She remembered her first days in the sprawling mansion, its grandeur both overwhelming and exhilarating. The staff members, a group of dedicated and welcoming individuals, had eagerly guided her through her new responsibilities as the lady of the mansion. Mrs. Lane, the head maid, had taken special care in introducing Y/N to the intricacies of managing such a vast estate. From the daily routines to the ceremonial duties, Mrs. Lane’s patience and kindness made Y/N’s transition smoother. She recalled the staff’s warm demeanour, their smiles and nods of approval as they showed her the ropes, their hospitality making her feel right at home.

Bucky, too, had been noticeably livelier since she had arrived. The maids, even the knights, frequently mentioned how their lord seemed more cheerful in the days when she was around. Y/N took pride in their acknowledgement, feeling that her presence had brought a positive change to their household fluttered her heart. The compliments and the warmth from those around her were affirmations that she was settling in well and that her husband was happy.

And then there was that one particular evening, as she and Bucky walked through their garden. The sun was setting behind them, the air was crisp, and the snow-covered grounds sparkled in the last remaining light of the winter sun. As they strolled hand in hand, Bucky’s touch was the source of relief against the chill of the season. He led her to a secluded spot under a snow-laden tree, a favourite place of hers that had become a sanctuary for quiet moments. There, he presented her with a small, intricately wrapped box. Its paper adorned with delicate patterns that caught the fading light.

Y/N’s heart fluttered with anticipation as she carefully unwrapped the box. Inside lay a pen, and as soon as her eyes fell upon it, she recognized it instantly. The pen was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, unlike anything she had ever seen. Its barrel was made of a rare, silvery metal that seemed to shimmer with its own light, reflecting a rainbow of hues with each movement. Intricate patterns were etched into the surface, forming an elegant design that was both enchanting and sophisticated. The cap of the pen was adorned with a small, iridescent gemstone that captured and held the light, casting a soft, magical glow.

Her eyes widened in recognition and delight. “Is this…,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe and disbelief. “I.. I never imagined I’d actually own one.” 

Her fingers traced the elegant curves of the pen; heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and wonder. The pen was more than just a beautiful object; it was a tool of her craft. Its smooth, balanced design promised an effortless writing experience, and the magical quality of the pen added a touch of enchantment to her translations and writings. It was an instrument that would transform her passion for ancient languages into something even more special. The rare, magical properties of the pen would make her translations come alive, imbuing her work with a subtle, otherworldly grace.

Bucky smiled, his eyes brighten with a blend of affection and a knowing gaze as he recognized the sparkle in her eyes, “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his tone was gentle.

Her curiosity piqued as she asked, “How did you know?”, her voice a mixture of wonder and intrigue. “I never told you about this pen before.” Y/N's mind raced as she tried to recall if she had ever mentioned it in passing or left any clues that Bucky could have picked up on. She couldn't think of a single instance. This pen had been a private dream of hers, a wish she had never shared with anyone. 

Bucky’s smile was warm, though his eyes carried a hint of enigmatic depth. He took her hand and wrapped it around his arm. “Maybe I’ve been paying attention,” he said with a hint of playful mystery. “Or maybe I just know you better than you think.”

There was a depth in his eyes, a flicker of something significant that Y/N couldn’t quite place; an intensity that suggested an understanding beyond the ordinary. It was as if somehow he managed to delve into her innermost thoughts and desires, uncovering a secret she had kept even from herself. The pen, though exquisitely beautiful, seemed to hold an unspoken meaning; a connection that went beyond the surface.

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Bucky, realising just how much he meant to her. His gift was not just a luxury; it was a symbol of their growing intimacy. It was a reminder that Bucky had been attentive; that he had taken the time to understand and appreciate her in ways she had never imagined. Their relationship had started with hesitancy and uncertainty, a tentative dance around each other’s flaws and reputation. Now over time, he had become her rock, her constant companion, and the person she loved more deeply than she ever thought possible.

As her focus returned to the present, Wanda’s voice cut through Y/N’s reflections. “Then what’s bothering you?” Wanda asked, her tone shifting to a more serious note.

Y/N's thoughts then drifted to the moment she met Wanda.

It had been an unexpected yet delightful encounter, filled with a sense of destiny. Wanda was a powerful witch from the magic tower, renowned for her skills and wisdom. Despite her young age, she was considered a prodigy, the youngest ever to hold such a prestigious position. 

She had met Wanda through Bucky, and their bond had been immediate. Both women shared a deep fascination with ancient languages, and their mutual interest had led to a close friendship. They spent countless hours together, deciphering old grimoires and delving into the intricacies of forgotten tongues. 

Though they had only recently come together, Y/N felt an odd sense of familiarity with Wanda, as if their connection had roots extending beyond the present. It was a rare and cherished connection for Y/N, one that made her feel even more at home in her new life.

“Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice firmer this time, “Snap out of it. I’m serious. What’s troubling you?”

She set her teacup down, her expression growing solemn. “Bucky has been having nightmares,” she began, her voice tinged with worry. She recounted the restless nights, the desperation in Bucky’s voice, and how he had clung to her, unable to let go.

Wanda listened intently, her silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. there was sense that she knew more than she was letting on, but Wanda’s demeanour remained calm and collected. “Maybe it’s just the memories from the war taking their toll,” Wanda suggested softly, though her eyes harbouring a deeper understanding.

Y/N’s heart ached at the thought. Maybe it was; maybe it was just the souls he had slain coming back to haunt him; but something in her guts says otherwise. She could sense that this wasn’t just a recurrence of old wounds. Because sometimes, when Bucky awoke from these terrors, she could hear him muttering her name, his voice barely above a whisper; laced with despair. And then it always ended up with Bucky burying his cock deep inside her as he held her close for the rest of the night, clinging to her as if she were his anchor in a storm.

She continued to explain things that did not add up to Wanda’s theory, “And each time these nightmares haunt him, he ends up…” she hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “...ho-holding me for the rest of the night; refusing to let me go,” she explained, her voice threaded with genuine frustration and concern. It was as though his need to hold her was an instinctive response to stave off the terror that plagued his dreams.

Wanda’s eyes twinkled with a hint of playful exasperation. “Oh so you’re bragging to me now? That your husband loves you so much he won’t let you leave the bed?” Her comment, though seemingly light-hearted, carried an undercurrent of truth. In hindsight, it simply might have sounded like jealousy from an unmarried woman but especially to Y/N, who failed to see Wanda’s words as more than just playful teasing , the hidden meaning went unnoticed.

Her cheeks tingled with a deep blush; her laugh was a sound of an underlying embarrassment. “No, it’s not like that!” she protested flusteredly.

Wanda’s laughter was light and carefree, hiding the subtle shift in the atmosphere. “Well, it certainly sounds like it. But seriously, if Bucky’s having nightmares, it’s probably remnant of what he had gone through in the wars he fought. Men like him carry those scars deeply,” Wanda said, her voice softening with a note of empathy.

As they continued to enjoy their tea, Y/N tried to shake off the lingering unease. Wanda’s teasing and their shared laughter provided a temporary respite from her worries. But as she looked at her friend, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky’s nightmares than the memories of the war. For now, though, she let Wanda’s playful banter and their camaraderie soothe her, even if only for a little while.

Bucky stood in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of a nearby lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The air was thick as the cold of the night mingled with the lack of warmth in his eyes. On a heavy wooden table in front of him lay a collection of weapons, each one meticulously arranged in a precise order. The blades, all different in shape and size, gleamed menacingly in the dull light, their sharp edges catching the faint glint of the lamp’s glow.

Carefully inspecting the weapons in front of him, his fingers running over the smooth steel with a precision that bordered on obsession. He picked up a particularly long and slender dagger. And as he turned the blade in his hand, the metal caught the light and cast a cold, eerie reflection of his face. It was a haunting image; his eyes, usually a clear, expressive blue, were now shadowed and distant, their depths hollow and impenetrable. There was a deadness to them that spoke of countless battles fought and horrors witnessed. His face was a mask of stoicism, but beneath the surface, there was a storm raging, a maelstrom of past regrets and unresolved anger. 

Bucky’s grip around the handle was tight, his knuckles white with the intensity of his hold. The veins in his hands stood out prominently, a stark contrast to the smooth, polished steel of the weapon. Each knife was a reminder of the skills he had honed, the battles he had fought, and the assassinations he had carried out. 

He moved to another knife, a small throwing blade with a wickedly sharp edge, he tested its balance with a practised flick of his wrist. The blade spun through the air with a deadly precision before landing with a soft thud into a luxurious painting hung against the wall. His eyes followed its path, and for a moment, a flicker of anger flashed across his face. 

Wanda observed him with a mix of respect and concern. The light-hearted air that usually surrounded her had vanished, replaced by a more sombre and serious demeanour. She approached quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. As she neared, her voice broke the oppressive silence. “Everything’s ready for the mission,” she said, her tone was devoid of the usual playfulness. Her words were carefully measured and the gravity of the situation reflected in her gaze. 

Suddenly, a figure materialised from the shadows, revealing itself with a slight shimmer. Wanda had been there all along, invisible, her presence unnoticed until now. She stepped into view with a wry smile as she glanced at the knife that had embedded itself dangerously close to her. “Whoa, didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” she said, her tone a mix of surprise and light-heartedness.

The room was silent for a while, only the faint sounds of Bucky’s movements carried through. He was deeply engrossed in his fortitude, his concentration absolute, a far stretch to the gentle, affectionate man he was whenever Y/N's near. In this moment, Bucky was a figure of intense focus and grim determination. His silence was punctuated only by the clatter of knives and the soft hiss of steel slicing through the air as he continued to hone his weapons. 

Bucky didn’t look up, his hands moving with grace as he continued to arrange his arsenal. “I’m almost finished,” he replied tersely, his voice betraying no hint of emotion. His focus was unwavering, his mind wholly consumed by the mission that lay ahead. The weight of his resolve was palpable, filling the room with an air of silenced tension.

Wanda’s expression softened slightly as she watched him. She understood the depth of his commitment and the toll it took on him. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know?,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of gentle concern.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, suddenly remembering the brutal betrayal that had led him to this predicament in the first place. The memory of the past; that fateful decision and the ancient magic that brought him back to this very moment, surged through his mind.

The night was alive with chaos as Bucky rode with frantic urgency, the pounding of hooves on the snow-covered ground mingling with the roar of a storm that mirrored the tempest in his heart. His breath came in sharp, visible gasps as he urged his horse to greater speeds, each beat of its powerful legs seeming to push him closer to the nightmare he feared. The familiar landscape of his northern estate was barely visible through the blizzard, the swirling snowflakes obscuring his vision and adding to the mounting dread.

His mind raced, his thoughts a blur of fear and desperation. “No, please, no,” he muttered under his breath, the words a futile plea against the encroaching darkness. The relentless clamour of battle reached his ears, a discordant symphony of clashing steel and anguished cries that only heightened his anxiety.

As he neared the mansion, the sight that greeted him was one of utter devastation. Smoke billowed from the once-pristine home, and the sounds of combat grew louder, more intense. Bucky's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the urgency to reach his wife. He dismounted quickly, his boots sinking into the snow as he sprinted toward the entrance.

The once-beautiful halls of the mansion were now a scene of utter carnage. The rich tapestries were torn, their vibrant colours now marred by bloodstains. Bodies of servants and knights alike, lay scattered, their lives snuffed out like candles in the winter wind. The floor was slick with a dark, ominous red, and the walls bore the marks of a brutal struggle. Bucky’s gaze was steely, his rage a palpable force that seemed to drive him forward, each step a grim determination to find his wife.

His hands tightened around the hilts of his weapons, the familiar weight of his knives and sword was a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. With each enemy he encountered, his movements were swift and lethal, the precision of his attacks was such a visible difference to the disarray around him. The flashes of steel and the sharp cries of the dying filled the air, but Bucky’s focus was singular. He barely registered the battle around him, his mind a relentless drive toward that one singular goal: Y/N.

Finally, he reached the door to their private quarters. It was ajar, hanging precariously on its hinges. Bucky pushed it open with a forceful shove, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that met him. The room was eerily silent, save for the soft, steady sound of the cold wind outside. His eyes swept the room, a chilling realisation dawning as he took in the scene.

There, amidst the wreckage, lay Y/N, her once-beautiful form now crumpled on the floor. Her delicate back was marred by a series of gaping wounds, the result of a brutal assault. The sight of her lifeless body, curled protectively on the bloody floor, sent a jolt of horror through Bucky. Tears sprang to his eyes, blurring his vision as he stumbled forward, each step heavy with dread and despair.

As he drew closer, the true extent of the tragedy revealed itself. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around something; a small, fragile bundle. His heart clenched painfully as he realised what it was. With trembling hands, he gently pried the baby from her cold embrace, his fingers barely able to grasp the tiny form. The baby was motionless, the silence of its little body a crushing blow to his already shattered soul.

“No, no, no,” Bucky’s voice was a desperate whisper, choked with indescribable grief. He cradled Y/N against his chest, his tears falling freely now as he held the lifeless bodies of both her and their child. His sobs were raw, guttural, the sound of a man who had lost everything. The weight of their deaths was unbearable, a suffocating agony that seemed to crush his very spirit.

As he held her, a torrent of emotions surge through him: anguish, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. His world had come crashing down, and the weight of his misery was almost unbearable, his tears fell from the blue of his eyes, “Please, please.” His breaths came in shaky, tortured gasps, as his quivering hands cupped her pale cheeks, “Open your eyes, my dear. I beg of you.” Her closed eyes remained stubbornly shut, unaffected to his hopeless pleas. The stillness of her form was a cruel reminder of those tender mornings when she would pretend to sleep just a little longer, feigning ignorance to his gentle kisses as he tried to rouse her

His hands moved to caress his child, the tiny body so still and unresponsive. The weight of his grief rendered him speechless, unable to utter a single word through the crushing pain. The absence of the high-pitched chortles and shrieks, the silence that echoed back at him, was a devastating reality to the lively sounds he had grown accustomed to. The baby, who had always responded to his touch with joy and curiosity, now lay motionless.

His heart shattered with the brutal realisation that this was not merely the loss of his beloved wife but also the crushing end to the life of their child. The sight of Y/N’s bloodied form and the lifelessness of their child were etched into his mind, a haunting image that would never fade. 

Bucky’s and Y/N’s relationship had not started with ease. In their first lives, the beginning of their marriage was awkward; Bucky’s rough edges clashing with her gentle spirit. He had not known how to be tender, how to navigate the complexities of human emotion. Months were the time that Y/N's eyes would look up at him with evident fear and Bucky’s cold exterior unable to convey his true feelings.

But his wife, his dearest, with her unwavering patience and kindness, had been a constant light in his life. She had shown him what it meant to be human, to be gentle and caring. Despite his monstrous past, she had embraced him with an acceptance that was both humbling and transformative.

Their early days together were marked by a series of stumbles and missteps. Bucky’s attempts at intimacy often fell short, his rough touch and brusque mannerisms was the polar opposite to Y/N’s softness. Yet, her constant presence was a soothing wave to his soul. Over time, their awkward interactions gave way to a profound connection. Her warmth and understanding had nurtured a deep-rooted trust between them. 

Bucky had fallen in love with her in a way that he had never thought possible, his heart swelling with a happiness that was both new and overwhelming.

And when the news of her pregnancy travels to his ears, Bucky’s joy had been boundless. He vowed to protect them both with everything he had, to shield them from harm and create a future filled with love and security. The dream of their family, of a life together with their child, was a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of Bucky’s past. 

As the arrival of his firstborn got closer and closer, Bucky was determined to embrace this new chapter and leave the violence behind; so he approached the Emperor with a request to retire. He sought the reward for his years of service; an end to the wars and a chance to build a peaceful life with his family. But the Emperor, a man consumed by greed and a desire to retain his most powerful weapon, refused his request outright.

Bucky, fueled by the righteous fury of a man protecting his family’s future, resorted to threats. The Winter Soldier’s formidable reputation, sharpened by years of brutal efficiency, made the Emperor cower in fear. Terrified of his own creation, the Emperor reluctantly agreed to grant Bucky his only wish; but only under the condition that he would win one last war for him. 

Bucky, driven by his desire to secure a safe future for Y/N and their child, agreed to the terms.

As the cruel fate had written, the Emperor’s promise was a deceitful trap. 

While Bucky was away fighting the final battle, the Emperor’s true intentions were revealed. Viewing Y/N and their newborn child as distractions; potential threats to his plans and Bucky’s dedication. So he sought out to send his troops to Bucky’s estate. Their mission was clear: remove the ‘distraction,’ the family that Bucky had sworn to protect. The Emperor’s greed and paranoia had led him to a treacherous betrayal.

Now, that dream of a peaceful future with Y/N and their child lay shattered before him, replaced by the devastating reality of their deaths. The promise of safety and love was obliterated by the cruel hand of betrayal, leaving Bucky with nothing but the hollow weight of his ruined dreams.

In a heart-wrenching moment, Wanda appeared out of thin air, collapsing to the floor, her own form battered and bloodied. She had fought valiantly, protesting against the Master of the magic tower who had conspired with the Emperor. The same Master who had helped remove the magical protection Wanda had placed around Y/N and the baby, a gift she had bestowed as a token of becoming the child's godmother. 

The battle had taken its toll on her, yet the sight of Y/N’s and the baby’s unnatural stillness pained her more than any wound maiming her own body. In her dying breath, Wanda dragged herself toward Y/N, who lay silently in her husband’s arms. Her eyes filled with sorrowful determination as he gripped Bucky’s collar, “Are you willing to do anything to save her?”

Bucky was a man lost in a sea of agony, drowning in raw sorrow and overwhelming despair. His world had crumbled around him, leaving him numb and detached from reality. He could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of his loss, the emptiness that now consumed his heart. His vision blurred with tears, he could barely focus on Wanda’s words, the weight of his devastation pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

Wanda’s grip tightened, her eyes pleading as she uttered, “Dammit Bucky, answer me! Will you?!”

Bucky’s gaze fell on the soulless forms of his beloved wife and child in his arms. He imagined the light of their eyes shining once more, the sound of their voices filling the silence that had taken over. As he envisioned the warmth and laughter that had once been a part of his life, a wave of fierce determination washed over him. His eyes burned with a fierceness, a resolve that was born of immense grief and love. He nodded with resolute certainty, his jaw set in grim determination. 

Wanda smirked triumphly; there was a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as if she knew what the future held for them. “Now go and kill that fucking bastard,” she commanded, her voice strained but resolute. 

The world around Bucky seemed to warp and dissolve as her magical chants echoed in his mind; the room, the blood, and the bodies fading away. Just before everything vanished, Bucky leaned down to place a kiss on Erica's lips and the baby's cheek, a silent vow to return and save them. Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with the blood on their skin. He whispered, "I promise, I'll come back for you."

It was as if the world was turned upside down as he was pulled backward through time. The blizzard outside was replaced by the heat of a summer battlefield, the familiar chaos of combat giving way to the eerie silence of a different kind of conflict. 

Bucky’s breath came in ragged gasps as he surveyed the new surroundings, the scent of human flesh burning and the sounds of distant artillery woke him to a reality he thought he would never see again. His heart still raced, the pain of his loss a constant weight in his chest. 

The memories of Y/N’s cold body and their child’s stillness haunted him, more than the bodies of corpses piling in front of him. The remnants of that heart-wrenching image was fresh in his mind. His gaze hardened as he realised where he was; he was no longer in the wreckage of his home but back in the midst of a war he once fought long before. In fact, exactly a few months until he is to be wed to Y/N. 

As he took in his surroundings, Bucky felt a chilling sense of déjà vu, a haunting awareness that he was being thrust back into a time when the stakes were high and lives hung in the balance. The agony of losing his wife and their child was now a burning ember in his heart, driving him forward with a renewed sense of purpose and a determination to change the course of fate. And this time his mission was not to win the war but to put an end to the emperor's life. 

“No. I have to do this alone.” His determination was a wall of resoluteness.

Wanda felt a deep ache in her heart for the burden he carried. She knew that the weight of his mission and the pain of his loss were almost unbearable. She thought about the fact that all of this might not even happened if not for Y/N’s discovery in their first lives. 

After translating one of Wanda’s old grimoires; Y/N discovered an ancient forbidden magic where the ability of manipulating time is not a myth but actually a reality. Though she had been sceptical of its possibilities, Wanda on the other hand was convinced. 

Since then, Wanda had been experimenting with time, first testing it on objects. Shredded paper reconstructed back to its original shape, and slowly she cast it on a wilted flower, bringing it back to when it bloomed. In time, Wanda learned the possibility of the magic to turn back time for more than just small things, but only at a price. 

Dabbling with the magic to such an extent would mean to lose the most important trait of a person, something deeply tied to their identity or purpose. For each individual, this trait was different, and the magic demanded a unique sacrifice based on what they valued most. That was why Wanda had asked Bucky if he was willing to do anything to save Y/N. 

Agreeing to it, Bucky would have to sacrifice his sight. His vision was essential not only for his prowess in battle but also for the simple yet immense joy of seeing his loved ones; Y/N and their child.

Losing his sight meant relinquishing his ability to protect them with the sharp precision he had always relied on. No longer would he be able to look into their eyes and see the warmth that sparked his every day. He would miss the simple joy of seeing his wife's pink cheeks flushed when he kisses her or the radiant beauty of her smile lighting up a room.

He wouldn’t be able to watch his child’s milestones; first steps, the way they would grow and change over time. He’d miss the subtle shifts in their expressions, the silent conversations shared through glances, and the small, fleeting moments that paint a vivid picture of their development.

That was the sacrifice he needed to make to save them.

Wanda had explained that the loss of his sight would occur gradually over time, not instantaneously. She reassured him that she would find a way to prevent it or at least mitigate its impact.

Bucky stayed quiet, contemplating the gravity of his decision, the weight of his sacrifice pressing heavily on his mind. “We can worry about that later.” 

Then he diverted the conversation, “What did you say that time? Oh, ‘Go and kill that fucking bastard’?” A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

Wanda’s eyes flashed with unwavering determination. “And I meant every single word.”

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Part III >>

A/N: yes, i have been reliving this pain in my head ever since i posted that blurb earlier this year :) also, i tried really hard to hide the time-travel aspect until we reach bucky's flashback. i really hope it was conveyed well for you guys to understand what happened. anyways, please leave me the crumbs of your thoughts on this chapter for me to read. thank you so much! i'll see you in a few days.

[fatkish]

Hi hi! I really love reading through all of your mha x inner child fanfics, theyve honestly helped a lot lol.

I was wondering if I could request Present Mic with (his) child reader after an unsuccessful suicide attempt? They attempted to go out by hanging but were saved at the last moment, so their throat is in complete pain. Just maybe some comfort and angst in his eccentric, silly ways, not wanting reader to hurt more but still hurting himself lol (but feel free to spin this however you want!).

(TRIGGER WARNING: Please note that the following contains sensitive content: attempts at suicide, self harm, mental abuse directed at oneself. Please be warned and don’t read if you are not in the right mindset to do so. This is a comfort fic aimed at comforting those who have dealt with or felt like this at one point)

Present Mic x Child Reader: Perfect to Me

You had been born Quirkless. The media had a field day with the news of the Voice Hero: Present Mic’s own child being quirkless. It was hard enough to be quirkless, but when everyone knew your father had a strong quirk, it made things even harder. You were always compared to him by your peers and even some of your teachers. You got bullied relentlessly by other kids. No one wanted to be your friend and the teachers would turn a blind eye to it all.

The kids would say things like ‘I bet you’re actually adopted and Present Mic is just too much of a hero to get rid of you’ ‘your dad must be super embarrassed his kid is quirkless and a loser’ ‘if no one knew you were his kid then he’d probably get rid of you’ your dad’s a lame hero so it makes sense he’d keep a quirkless kid’. The other kids always said things about how your dad must be putting up an act and probably just sees you as a charity case.

The teachers were bad too. ‘I can’t even imagine having a quirkless child’ ‘imagine how it must be having a child like that’ ‘the poor man is probably so stressed all the time, worried about his kid’ ‘it must be so disappointing to find out your kid is quirkless’. The teachers would whisper about how it must be such a burden to raise a quirkless child. They spoke rumors about you being his illegitimate child and that he’s probably only kept you to make himself look good.

You never told Mic about anything anybody said. You knew he loved you, you’re his whole world… right? After a few years of torment and bullying from other kids you started to doubt yourself and your father. You started to believe that you were just a burden on Mic and that he’s only putting up a loving act. He’s your dad, so of course he’s supposed to love you, plus he’s a hero, so how much of his love is really true and not just stuff he’s supposed to say. How do you know if your dad actually cares for you or only tells you this because he’s a good person and is just being nice?

Eventually in 5th grade when you were 11, you couldn’t take it anymore. You truly believed that your dad was only trying to make you feel better about being quirkless. You believed that you were a burden and that your dad would be better off without you to look after. One day, you decided to skip school and returned home after your dad left. You had been planning this for some time. You had grabbed an old 10ft phone charger cord and tied one end into a slipknot and tied the other to a wooden beam in the kitchen. You decided to write your dad a note before taking your life. You then stood up on a chair and slipped the cord around your neck before kicking away the chair.

Mic had been halfway on his way home from UA because he realized that he forgot some of his students English papers that he graded. He got a call from one of your few nice teachers who informed him that you weren’t at school. He had seen you leave this morning so he knows that you left, were you skipping school? Why? Guess he’ll ask you when he gets home. He pulled into the driveway and parked before exiting and locking his car. He unlocked his front door and entered the house, closing the door behind him before calling out your name.

“(Y/n)? You home? I’m not mad, I left some papers that I had graded on the kitchen table. C’mon, let’s have a talk, I’m sure you have a reason for skipping scho— Oh God NOOOOO!”

As Mic had walked from the living room, through the dining room and into the kitchen, he paused when his eyes took in the sight of your body nearly limp and hanging with a cord around your neck. The moment he saw it he ran to you and grabbed a knife to cut the cord. The moment he did, your limp body fell into his arms.

“Oh my god, my sweet baby, no. Please, (y/n) baby, please don’t be dead, please don’t die on me, Daddy’s here now, Daddy’s got you, come back to me baby” Present Mic cried as he cradled your body and dialed the emergency number for an Ambulance. While he stayed with you, he saw the note and grabbed it, when the paramedics arrived they got to work getting oxygen into you and had to stick a tube down your windpipe to get oxygen into your lungs. Mic rode in the Ambulance with them as he called Shota and let him know what was happening. Shota then told Nedzu what happened.

While you were being treated, Mic pulled the note out and read it.

Dear Dad,

I’m sorry that you had to find me like this. I know it’s a burden having to deal with and care for a quirkless child and that dealing with my death is just more of a burden. I’m sorry I’m quirkless, I know that you always say it’s okay but you don’t have to lie anymore. I know you must have been disappointed when I didn’t get a quirk and I’m so sorry. Thank you for taking such good care of me even though it must have been an immense burden. Thank you for being a kind and loving father even if it was just an act. I love you so much and I’m sorry that you had to endure living with me for so long. But that’s all over now so you can rest now. Thank you for everything and thank you for putting up with me. You’re my hero.

-Love,

(Y/n)

Hizashi had tears rolling down his cheeks when Shota got to the hospital and found him sitting in a hallway outside your door. When Shota took the note and read it, he too, shed some tears.

“W-why? Why didn’t they tell me Sho? Why didn’t they say anything? Do they really believe that I don’t love them? What did I do wrong?!?”

“Shh, I know Zash, I know. This isn’t on you, this isn’t your fault”

“My baby is dead?!? Sho! How am I- what am I gonna do, how am I supposed to deal with this?”

As Hizashi cried to Shota, one of the nurses exited your room.

“Excuse me, Mr. Yamada, your child is awake now. We’ve put them on the Suicide watch and a psychoanalytic will be visiting with them later to determine what caused this and what the best course of treatment for them is. You can go in now and see them” the nurse moved aside and motioned towards the door.

Hizashi immediately jumped to his feet and ran inside the room only to stop and stare at you. You had your head down and your hands in your lap as you sat in the hospital bed under the sheets wearing a hospital gown. Tears swelled in his eyes as he realized you were alive. Hearing and seeing the beats on the heart monitor was a relief to him. He ran over to you swallowing you up in his arms as he cried.

“Oh (y/n) my sweet baby, you’re alive, I was so scared don’t you ever do that again you hear me! I love you so much, I’m so happy you’re alive. No matter what anyone says or thinks, you’re perfect to me. Just the way you are. Quirk or no quirk, you will always be my sweet baby. I love you so much”

Hizashi cried as he hugged you and cradled you in his arms. He kept rubbing his forehead into your shoulder. You carefully removed his glasses and put them aside as you kissed his forehead.

“Dad I’m-“

“No no, shhh… it’s okay, explanations can come later. If you don’t want to talk about it right now then we don’t have to, I’m just so grateful that you’re alive. Promise me you’ll talk to me before you ever do this again, please”

“I promise”

“Pinky promise”

You looked at the serious look and your dad’s face as he held his pinky finger out to you. You couldn’t help but smile at his silly antics and linked your pinky with his.

“I promise”

“Okay good.”

After that, Hizashi crawled into the bed with you as you sat on his lap and snuggled into his arms. Shota sat in the chair to the side and smiled at you.

The following week was filled with snuggles and eating junk food while watching movies. When you got home after the suicide watch ended, your dad surprised you by letting you go to UA with him and letting you do your homeschooling there. Nedzu decided that it would be best for you to be in an environment where you would be safe from bullying and what better environment than a school for heroes? You got to stay in the faculty room and did your homework, you got to eat lunch with your dad and he’d show you off to all his coworkers.

Needless to say you still had some doubts but therapy was helping. Your dad loves you and it’s obvious to you now just how much.

[03jyh23]

— fear of the unknown || choi jongho (part two of finding our way back series)

<series masterlist> <next>

ex-boyfriend!idol!jongho x ex-girlfriend!single-mom!reader

synopsis: five years have passed since jongho last saw you. your lives have taken drastically different paths, with jongho achieving fame and you focusing on raising your daughter, nari, in quiet anonymity. when jongho discovers he has a daughter, he's determined to be a part of her life.

genre: a slice of life, romance, fluff, some angst

trigger warnings: unplanned pregnancy, illegitimate child, single parenthood

words: 8.1 k

reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! first of all, thank you so much for being interested in finding our way back! your support means a lot to me! i'm super excited to share this part! i know some of you've been looking forward to reading it so im happy to finally be able to give it to you! it took me a while to work on it so i hope you will enjoy it! can't wait to read your opinions!

love, monika ♡

taglist: @seventeenthingsblr @DALSUWAHA @treehouse-mouse @ateez-atiny380 @sleepy-kat-here @sndeoki @bomi-ja ♡ (if by any chance i forgotten to add someone please remind me once again)

if you wish to be tagged let me know here

Jongho paced around the conference room, his hands shaky as he waited for the CEO and other representatives to arrive. It was the first time he had called a special meeting. His mind was filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and what-ifs, making it impossible for him to sit still. Unease had settled in his stomach, churning uncomfortably with every passing second. It was a different kind of nervousness compared to what he had felt before his audition. Back then, it was a mixture of excitement and fear of the unknown. But this was entirely different. This time, he was more than just an aspiring artist. He was a father, a man who had discovered a newfound purpose in life, a purpose that was far more significant than any song or dance routine. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythmic thumping loud in his ears as he waited for the attendees to arrive. His palms were sweaty, his fingers trembling slightly as he clenched and unclenched them in an attempt to release some of the tension. As he looked around the empty conference room, he could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on him. The silence of the room seemed to echo the uncertainty he was feeling, amplifying his anxiety. He was about to have a conversation that could change the course of his life, a conversation that could either bring him closer to his daughter or push him further away. He had no script, no rehearsal. All he had were his feelings, his love for his daughter, and his determination to be a part of her life. As he waited for the meeting to begin, Jongho felt a strange mix of fear and anticipation. He feared the possible outcomes, yet was eager to voice out his feelings, his intentions. 

As he paced back and forth, his mind raced with thoughts of every possible scenario. What if they didn’t believe him? What if they questioned his sincerity? What if they denied him the chance to be a part of his daughter’s life? But amidst all the doubts and fears, a small glimmer of hope remained. The hope that they would understand that they would give him a chance to prove his worth as a father. He couldn’t predict how this conversation might end. But he knew one thing for certain. He was ready to fight. Ready to fight for his right to be a father, to be a part of his daughter’s life. And with that thought, he took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared for the meeting that could change his life forever. 

After what felt like forever, the CEO entered the conference room in the company of other representatives, a cup of coffee in their hands. All of them greeted Jongho with a fond smile and one of them handed Jongho one of the cups as well. "It's nice to see you, Jongho. Should we start the meeting now?" 

"Thank you," Jongho said, accepting the coffee with a small smile. His hands were shaking slightly as he brought the cup to his lips, taking a small sip of the hot beverage. He looked down into the cup, watching as the dark liquid swirled around. Where should he start? He took a deep breath, lifting his gaze to meet the eyes of the people around the room. The friendly chit-chat and the light-hearted atmosphere were about to take a drastic turn. "I have something I need to tell you," He began, his voice quiet but steady. He knew that his confession was about to change everything. 

"Well, I really hope you do have something important to share," the CEO began with a light-hearted chuckle, breaking the tense silence that had enveloped the room. "After all, it's Friday morning, and we've all gathered here, for what I understand is an emergency meeting. Given the urgency, I'm certain that you've called us here for a matter of utmost importance." His smile was warm and encouraging, a stark contrast to the seriousness of his words. "So, why don't you go ahead and tell us, Jongho? What's going on that required such immediate attention?" 

Jongho took another deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each representative before finally settling on the CEO. "I called this meeting because there's something important, I need to share with you all. It's about my personal life but has significant implications for my career and ATEEZ." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Five years ago, I was in a relationship with someone very special to me, Y/N. I had to end things because of the pressures and demands of my career. What I didn't know at the time was that she was pregnant when we broke up." The room was silent, the weight of Jongho's revelation hanging heavily in the air. He continued; his voice steady but filled with emotion. "She had our daughter, Nari, and she's been raising her on her own ever since. I only found out about Nari recently, at a fan sign event where Y/N brought her. Meeting my daughter for the first time was... overwhelming." Jongho paused to let his words sink in, watching as the representatives' exchanged glances, processing the information. "I understand that this is unexpected and may complicate things, but I need you all to know that I am committed to being a father to Nari. I will not abandon my responsibilities or pretend she doesn't exist. She is my daughter, and I love her." 

The CEO's expression shifted from surprise to a more contemplative look. "Jongho, this is indeed a significant development. We need to consider the implications carefully. But first, tell us more about your relationship with Y/N. How do you see your future with her and your daughter?" 

"We both were really young when we fell in love and taking into consideration how much time has passed, it's hard for me to navigate my relationship with Nari's mom," Jongho stated. "I believe the way we parted hurt her in more than one way and I'm willing to work to gain her trust again. However, my current focus is on reconnecting with my daughter." 

The CEO sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I understand, but you need to realize the potential repercussions. The public will find out, and we must be prepared for the fallout. We're talking about an illegitimate child, Jongho. It’s going to cause a lot of trouble." 

Jongho clenched his fists, his resolve strengthening. "Nari is my daughter, and I won’t let her be treated as a scandal or a mistake. She deserves better than that. I am prepared to face any backlash if it means being a part of her life." 

One of the other representatives leaned forward, their expression more sympathetic. "We understand your position, Jongho, and we want to support you. But we need a clear plan, PR team how can we introduce Nari and Y/N to the public? How can we handle the media attention?" 

The PR manager, a professional with a calm demeanor, took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. "The key here is to control the narrative. We need to craft a heartfelt, honest statement from Jongho, explaining the situation clearly and sincerely. We should emphasize his dedication to his daughter and his desire to be a responsible father. Transparency will help us gain the public's sympathy and support." 

Another member of the PR team chimed in, "We can arrange an exclusive interview with a trusted media outlet. Jongho can share his story in his own words, highlighting his commitment to Nari. This will allow us to present the news in a positive light and address any potential questions or concerns upfront." 

The CEO nodded thoughtfully. "And what about Y/N? How does she feel about being in the public eye? Will she be willing to participate in this plan?" 

Jongho took a deep breath. "I don't want to pressure her into anything she's not comfortable with. But I believe that, with time, she will see that being open about our situation is the best way forward for all of us. I will talk to her and make sure she understands the importance of this step." 

The PR manager continued, "We should also prepare a detailed FAQ and talking points for Jongho and the rest of the team. This will ensure that everyone is on the same page and can respond consistently to any inquiries. Social media will be crucial as well. We need to monitor reactions and engage with fans to build support and understanding." 

A marketing executive added, "It might be beneficial to involve the rest of ATEEZ in this process. Their support can help reinforce the message that this is a positive development for Jongho and his family. A united front will be more compelling to the public." 

Jongho nodded, looking a bit hesitant. "There's one more thing. Only Hongjoong knows about Nari right now. The rest of the boys have no idea. I need to talk to them and explain everything before we move forward with any public announcements." 

The CEO leaned forward; his gaze intense. "Jongho, we need to move carefully. Your career and the future of ATEEZ are at stake. But we also want to see you become the father you want to be. We'll work on this strategy together, but you need to keep us informed every step of the way." 

Jongho nodded, feeling a mix of relief and determination. "Thank you. I appreciate your support and understanding. I won't let you down." 

As the meeting concluded, Jongho knew that the road ahead would be challenging, but he was ready to face it with unwavering determination. He was committed to being the best father he could be for Nari, and he would do whatever it took to make things right with you. With the support of his team and his own resolve, he felt more prepared to navigate the difficult path ahead. His next step was to sit down with the rest of ATEEZ and share his story, trusting in their brotherhood and hoping for their understanding. 

You had just finished cleaning up when you heard your phone ringing. Your heartbeat faster when you saw Jongho's name on the screen, a sight unfamiliar yet deeply desired. The night before, after Jongho left, you found it hard to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed, replaying the entire evening. You remembered how he looked, how your heart reacted upon seeing him. It felt as if no time had passed, and your youthful love was still aflame. There was no denying the strong impact seeing Jongho had on you. Despite the years and the distance, feelings you thought you had tucked away resurfaced with a force you hadn't anticipated. You were left grappling with a flurry of emotions, from surprise to anxiety, from sorrow to a yearning you weren't ready to confront. It was as if the past had caught up with you, reminding you of what once was and what could have been. 

"Hello?" you answered the call, 

"Hi Y/N, I just wanted to let you know I finished the company meeting. Would you like to meet me for coffee?" Your heart raced in your chest at his unexpected invitation, leaving you momentarily speechless. 

"Sure, Jongho. That sounds nice," you finally responded, managing to maintain a steady voice. 

"Great, can I come and pick you up in thirty minutes?" 

"Sure, I'll be ready," you replied, a wave of excitement washing over you. 

As you ended the call, you couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Part of you was excited at the prospect of seeing Jongho again, eager to spend more time with him. But another part of you was filled with uncertainty, unsure of what this meeting meant for your relationship and where things would go from here. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and questions. You were acutely aware that a lot could change in five years. Jongho was no longer the aspiring artist who was still finding his way, but a worldwide superstar, a member of a successful group. His popularity, his financial status - everything had changed. He was not your Jongho anymore. He wasn't the same boy you fell in love with. He had become a man, a man you wanted to get to know, to be close to. You knew it wasn't going to be easy. But you had changed too. You had matured, become less spontaneous and, perhaps, less happy along the way? You had neglected yourself, focusing solely on your daughter. You weren't unhappy, not at all, Nari was your purpose in life. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, you couldn't help but feel like you had lost a part of yourself in the process of becoming a mother. 

You quickly freshened up, opting for a casual outfit that struck the perfect balance between comfort and style. With your heart pounding in your chest, you made your way out of the building. You sat down on a bench, scanning your surroundings for Jongho, but there was no sign of him. You started to grow impatient, shaking your legs as a distraction. It was a struggle to calm your racing heart. You had to repeatedly remind yourself that you were a mother first, an individual second. You had to remember that you were doing this for your daughter's sake. You couldn't selfishly rush Jongho back into your life, even if every fiber of your being yearned for him, even if your greatest dream was to create a family with him. For now, your feelings need to be pushed back. You needed your mind to stay clear, to fight with yourself to remain a responsible adult, a mother who wouldn't let emotions cloud her vision. Preferably, you would have wanted to just run into Jongho's arms and explore the feelings, the love. And if needed, beg him to love you again. But you couldn't. Not now. As much as you wanted to give in to your feelings, you knew that it wouldn't be fair to Nari. You didn't want to risk her getting hurt if things didn't work out with Jongho. So, you buried your feelings deep inside, vowing to focus on your daughter and her needs. 

When finally, Jongho arrived, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves as you caught sight of him. He looked just as handsome as ever, his warm smile sending a wave of warmth through you 

"Hey," he greeted you, his voice soft and gentle. "You look beautiful." 

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You look great too." As you exchanged pleasantries, a familiar warmth enveloped you, easing the tension that had gripped your nerves moments earlier. Jongho's presence felt reassuring, grounding you in the midst of your swirling emotions. 

"Shall we?" Jongho gestured towards the café where you met him the night before, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. With a nod, you fell into step beside him. 

Settling into a cozy corner of the café, you found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence, punctuated by shared smiles and stolen glances. It felt surreal, being in Jongho's presence once again, yet undeniably right. 

As a waitress brought your orders, you couldn't help but smile upon seeing Jongho's order. He caught your gaze, a question in his eyes as you smiled even wider. "What?" he asked. 

"It's just... your order hasn't changed at all," you responded. Jongho's heart softened, he couldn't hide his happiness that after all these years, you still remembered this small detail about him. 

Jongho's chuckle filled the air, "Some things never change, huh?" he remarked, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a mixture of amusement and affection. As he took a sip of his favorite drink, you couldn't help but marvel at the simplicity of the moment—the way his smile illuminated the space between you, bridging the years that had stretched thin with absence. 

"So, how did the meeting go? You seem to be at ease," you asked as you also took a sip of your warm drink. 

Jongho took a deep breath, his gaze falling to his coffee cup before meeting your eyes again. "The meeting... it went well, better than I expected." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I was nervous, of course. I didn't know how they would react. But they were understanding. They want to support me." He paused again, a thoughtful expression on his face. "There's a lot to consider, a lot of potential challenges ahead. But I feel... hopeful." He gave you a small, sincere smile, his eyes filled with determination. "They would like to make it public as soon as possible," Jongho added, "It's the best way to control the narrative so I wanted to ask you, how do you feel about it?" Jongho's words caught you off guard. You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts before replying. You understood the importance of controlling the narrative, especially given Jongho's status. 

"That's... a lot to take in, Jongho. I understand why the company wants to move quickly, but I feel it’s too soon," you expressed, your voice laced with concern. 

Jongho listened attentively, his brow furrowing slightly as he absorbed your words. "You need to know that it’s crucial that we let the world know. If the media finds out sooner than we release a statement, it can get ugly," he explained, his tone serious. 

"I just want you to focus on meeting Nari first," you countered, your priority clear in your mind. Only a day had passed since Jongho found out about Nari's existence, and you felt like everything was spiraling out of your control. You wanted him in your lives, you did, but the way things were evolving felt like you were losing control and it made you panic. As silly as it sounds, you hadn't considered the fact that Jongho's popularity would inevitably put a spotlight on your daughter, too. This situation was more complex than you had anticipated, a factor you hadn't considered at first. What if you go public and within a few weeks, Jongho grows tired of being a father? What if he leaves? What if Nari becomes too much for him to handle? What if reality falls short of his expectations? So many questions swirled in your mind, yet answers remained elusive. 

"I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you, but you need to understand that it’s best for us if we go public now." Jongho's voice pulled you from your thoughts. ''If we do, I won’t have to worry about getting caught spending time with her, and I'll be at ease." He reasoned; his voice laced with a hint of urgency. 

"Then why do I feel like you are pushing me?" You snapped; the frustration clear in your voice. "Look, you can't just come into our lives and expect me to go along with everything the company or you want. It's not that simple." 

Jongho looked taken aback by your sudden outburst. He ran a hand through his hair, a clear sign of his stress. "I'm... I'm sorry if it feels that way," he stammered out, his eyes filled with regret. "That wasn't my intention. I just... I just thought it would be best for us, for Nari. But you're right, I should have taken your feelings into consideration too." 

"Do you even realize how this will affect her?" You finally voiced out the concern that had been eating at you. "Are you aware of the fact that by stepping into our lives, everything will change?" Your voice was steady, but the worry was evident in your eyes. "There will be media scrutiny, pressure, and unwanted attention. Can you assure me that you are ready for all of this? Can you assure me that you are ready to protect Nari from all of it?" You both sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Jongho looked conflicted, his gaze dropping to the floor as he processed your words.  

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I understand your concerns," Jongho began, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. "And I won't pretend that I have all the answers. But what I can assure you is that I'm ready to face whatever comes our way. I am ready to protect Nari, to be there for her, no matter what." His words hung heavy in the silence that followed, a testament to his sincerity and resolve. You could see the determination in his eyes, the unwavering will that had always defined Jongho. It gave you a glimmer of hope, a small but still hope. 

"Jongho, I appreciate your willingness, and I don't want you to feel like I'm cutting your wings, but you don't know Nari at all. How can you be so sure you want to be her father?" 

Jongho's face tightened, a mixture of frustration and desperation evident in his expression. "How can you ask me that?" he said, his voice low but intense. "She's, my daughter. I don't have to know everything about her to want to be there for her. I want to get to know her, to be a part of her life, to love her like a father should." 

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you tried to find the right words. "Jongho, it's not that simple. Being a father is more than just a title. It means being there for her every day, through the good and the bad. It means understanding her needs, her fears, her dreams. It's a lifetime commitment, not something you can just jump into because you feel guilty or responsible." 

Jongho listened attentively, a mixture of emotions playing on his face. "I understand your concerns," he said solemnly. "I know it's not simple. But I am committed to this. I don't just want to be a father in name, I want to be a father in every sense of the word. And I am ready to make that lifetime commitment." His words echoed in your mind; you felt his sincerity. You looked at him, your eyes searching for the truth. And what you saw in his gaze was not just determination, but also a deep sense of resolve.  

"Jongho, I've been doing this on my own for the past four years. Please, try to put yourself in my position. The life I've known is about to change drastically," you looked him in the eyes, your heart nervously pounding in your chest. 

Jongho was silent for a moment, his gaze locked with yours. "I understand, and I'm sorry if I've been insensitive. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you," he said, "But I want you to know that I'm committed to being there for Nari, and for you, no matter what." 

"No matter what?" you sighed. "Jongho, I've heard that before," you stated, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I heard it five years ago. I heard it right at the very beginning that you would be there for me no matter what. And you know what you did? You gave up." You didn't know what came over you to say those words. Was it fear? Was it a lack of trust? You knew it was a low blow, and you knew that five years ago the breakup was inevitable, that your relationship was doomed from the start. 

Jongho's expression softened, regret evident in his eyes as he listened to your words. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently placed it on yours. "I understand your frustration," he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. "I know I've made a mistake, and I can't change the past. But I can promise you that I'm committed to doing right by you and Nari now and in the future." 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to his words. He was trying, you could see that. But it was hard to let go of the past hurt and the fear of the unknown. Still, you knew you had to give him the opportunity to prove himself. 

"I appreciate your words, Jongho," you admitted, meeting his gaze. "But actions speak louder than words. I need you to show me that you're serious about this." 

His grip tightened slightly around your hand, "I understand," he said, determination shining in his eyes. "And I will, I promise." 

"Alright," you uttered in a gentle, almost whisper-like tone. "We have a lot to figure out, but I appreciate your commitment and I hope you will keep your promises." 

"Thank you for giving me a chance," Jongho stated, as he gently squeezed your hand. In the whirlwind of emotions, you hadn't even noticed his touch, but now it sent shivers down your spine. You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks as you looked into his earnest eyes, the intensity of his gaze stirring something deep within you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the cafe around you buzzed with activity, yet in that small bubble you shared, it felt like time had slowed down. You found yourself captivated by the sincerity in Jongho's eyes, the determination to right the wrongs of the past clear in his touch. "I mean it, Y/N," he continued softly, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand. "I want to make things right." His words hung in the air, filled with hope. You felt a lump form in your throat, torn between the desire to believe him and the fear of getting hurt again. Yet, as you looked at Jongho, you saw a flicker of the boy you had once loved, now a man ready to fight for a second chance. 

Allowing a moment of vulnerability, you spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed to hang in the air between you and Jongho, a quiet plea in the midst of the swirling emotions. Your eyes met his, a mixture of fear and hope reflecting in your gaze. "Please," you found yourself saying again, the word almost lost in the silence that had fallen over the room. "Please be patient with me." 

Jongho nodded understandingly, his gaze softening as he took in your words. "I understand," he responded, his voice gentle. "I'll be patient. We can take all the time you need." The warmth of his hand in yours was comforting, and despite the turmoil of emotions inside you, it brought a sense of familiarity and reassurance.

His understanding and patience gave you a glimmer of hope, a small but significant comfort in the turmoil of emotions you were feeling. "I appreciate that," you said, your voice steadier now. You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts before continuing. "I need time to adjust to this... to everything. And I need you to understand that." 

Jongho nodded again, his gaze never leaving yours. "I do understand," he replied earnestly. "And I promise to respect your boundaries and give you all the time you need." His words, spoken with such sincerity, eased the tension in your shoulders. His reassurance brought a fleeting sense of relief, yet beneath it lingered a complex tapestry of emotions—doubt, longing, and a cautious hope for what the future might hold. You knew this journey would be fraught with challenges, uncertainties, and moments of vulnerability. But in that shared moment of understanding with Jongho, you found a fragile yet resilient thread to hold onto as you navigated the path ahead together. 

You gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you," you said softly. 

"I understand it might be a challenging situation for you. However, if you would allow it, I'd appreciate the chance to see Nari soon," he requested, his voice maintaining a gentle and understanding tone throughout. 

The thought of Jongho spending time with Nari brought a mix of emotions. There was fear, of course, but also a spark of hope. After a moment of silence, you finally spoke. "That sounds like a good idea," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "We can start with a short visit, see how she reacts, and then decide the next step." 

Jongho took a deep breath before speaking again. "Should I bring something, when I come to meet her?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "I could maybe bring her some ATEEZ related things?" 

You looked up at him, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "In that case, just bring Wooyoung with you," you joked, your eyes sparkling with humor. 

Jongho chuckled softly at your playful jab, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "I'll see what I can do," he replied with a teasing grin, playing along with your humor. The tension that had gripped the room moments ago seemed to ease, replaced by a light-hearted exchange that offered a brief reprieve from the weighty conversation. You appreciated the way Jongho could effortlessly lighten the mood, even in the midst of discussing serious matters. It reminded you of the connection you once shared, a bond that still held a spark of warmth and familiarity despite the passage of time. 

After a moment, Jongho's expression softened, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of sincerity. "On a serious note, though," he began, his voice gentle yet earnest, "is there anything specific she likes? I want to make a good impression." You appreciated his thoughtfulness and the genuine effort he was putting into getting to know Nari. It reassured you that he was serious about being a part of her life, despite the uncertainties that lingered between you. 

"Well," you started, "she loves music," a smile tugging at your lips as you added, "just like her dad. " Jongho smiled right back at you hearing you finally referring to him as Nari’s dad. "Anything related to ATEEZ would definitely catch her attention. Oh, and she's a big fan of animals, especially puppies." 

Jongho nodded thoughtfully, mentally noting down your suggestions. "Got it. ATEEZ merchandise and maybe something with a puppy theme," he mused with a smile. "I'll make sure to pick out something special for her." 

"But please, for the love of God, don't bring her a real puppy," you interjected with a laugh, shaking your head at the thought of adding a pet to your already hectic life. 

Jongho chuckled warmly, relieved at the lighthearted moment amidst the weighty conversation. "Noted," he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "No live animals. I promise." 

The tension seemed to ease between you both, replaced by a comfortable silence. You couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards Jongho. Despite the complexities and challenges ahead, his genuine effort to connect with Nari filled you with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something beautiful—for Nari, for you, and for Jongho. 

"I want this to go well. I want Nari to feel comfortable around me," Jongho expressed earnestly, his voice tinged with determination and a hint of nervousness. 

"Nari is a social butterfly; she likes people," you stated with a fond smile, pride evident in your voice as you talked about your daughter. "I’m sure she will feel comfortable," you assured him. "Just be yourself and take it one step at a time." 

Jongho listened attentively, nodding as he took in your words. "I'll do my best," he replied sincerely, a mix of determination and nervousness in his expression. He appreciated your reassurance and advice, knowing how crucial it was to approach this meeting with patience and understanding. "I want to make a good impression on her," he added softly, his eyes reflecting his sincerity. Deep down, he felt the weight of responsibility as he prepared to meet his daughter for the first time. He wanted nothing more than for Nari to accept him into her life, and he knew he had to tread carefully to earn her trust. 

You smiled warmly at him, grateful for his genuine effort. "I'm sure you will," you encouraged, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. "Just follow her lead, and let things unfold naturally." 

With a nod, Jongho took a deep breath, steeling himself for the momentous occasion ahead. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity," he said earnestly, his gratitude evident in his voice. 

"Maybe you could come around the day after tomorrow?" you asked him. 

Jongho seemed taken aback by the sudden invitation but quickly recovered. "Of course," he agreed a soft smile on his lips. "I'd love to spend some time with Nari. And... with you," he added, a hint of hesitation in his voice. 

Your eyes grew bigger with his words, and you suddenly pulled your hand away from his touch. Your heart swelled with a mixture of emotions. You felt a flutter in your stomach, but you pushed it down. Now was not the time for such feelings. Jongho's eyes widened slightly at your sudden withdrawal, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He quickly masked his reaction, a practiced ease settling over him. "Good. It's settled then. We'll see you the day after tomorrow," you said, the finality in your voice hiding the whirlpool of emotions inside you. Caught off guard by Jongho's words and by the way you had reacted to them, you quickly gathered your thoughts. Many emotions swirled inside you, yet you knew you couldn't afford to dwell on them yet. With a soft sigh, you looked at Jongho, your eyes reflecting a complex mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and a hint of something else. "But for now, I have to go," you finally said, your voice laced with a touch of regret. Jongho's eyes widened slightly at the abrupt change in topic, but he didn't interrupt. "There are still so many things I need to take care of. Mom duties call," you added with a small, somewhat forced, chuckle. 

"Can I walk you back to your apartment?" Jongho offered, 

"No!" you responded quickly, the urgency in your voice surprising even yourself. Jongho's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your sudden outburst. He was taken aback, but he tried not to show it. You hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but the thought of Jongho walking you back to your apartment was something you weren't ready for yet. After your abrupt refusal, the space between you fell into an uncomfortable silence. You could feel Jongho's gaze on you, filled with confusion and concern, but you kept your eyes trained on your hands, nervously fidgeting in your lap. 

"Alright," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Jongho simply nodded, understanding but clearly disappointed. "If that's what you want." You nodded, avoiding his gaze. The knot in your stomach tightened as you saw the understanding but clearly disappointed look on his face. You wanted to say something, anything really, to sweep the disappointed look from his face, but the words wouldn't form in your mind. So, you got up from your chair, somewhat awkwardly, and smiled at him, trying hard for the smile to seem real. "I'll see you soon," you said and with that, you hurried to the door. As you left the cafe, leaving Jongho utterly confused and disappointed, a heavy lump formed in your throat, and a flurry of mixed emotions swirled within your heart. 

In your haste to leave the café, you didn't realize you had left your phone behind on the table. Your mind was a whirl of thoughts, emotions bombarding your senses as you made your way out of the café, walking down the street, lost in your own world. The crowd around you seemed to blur into the background as your thoughts consumed you, making you oblivious to the fact that you had left your device behind. Meanwhile, back at the café, Jongho was still sitting at the table, lost in his own sea of emotions. The way you had abruptly declined his offer to walk you home, storming out of the cafe without a second glance, played heavily on Jongho's mind. He sat there, his mind processing the conversation, the weight of your words still hanging in the air. Jongho couldn't help but analyze his words. Was it possible that you were uncomfortable with him implying that he wanted to spend time with you? He pondered, his mind racing with uncertainty. Had it been wrong for him to hope that you two could rebuild what once was? The questions left him feeling uneasy and full of doubt. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the phone you had left behind until it started to ring. The sudden noise startled him, his heart pounding quickly in his chest as he glanced down at the source of the sound. Seeing your phone lying on the table, he reached out and grabbed it with a sense of urgency. The ringing seemed unusually loud in the quiet café, each ring amplifying the tension he was already feeling. He swiftly picked the phone up, a sense of anxiety washing over him, his eyes instinctively glanced at the caller ID… Hyunwoo?

Many thoughts spun through his mind like a whirlwind. Who was this Hyunwoo? Was he a friend, a relative, or someone closer to you? The possibility that gnawed at him the most was, were you in a relationship with him? The question echoed in his mind, each repetition adding to his anxiety. He tried to dismiss the thoughts, to tell himself he was overthinking, but they were like persistent intruders, refusing to leave. The unanswered call, the ringing that seemed to grow exponentially louder with each passing second, felt like it was taunting him. His palms were sweaty, his heart racing in his chest like a drum. The name 'Hyunwoo' seemed to be etched in his mind, each blink imprinting it deeper. His gaze fell on the phone again, the screen now dark, the call ended. But the echo of the ringtone still seemed to linger in the air, a haunting reminder of the question that had now taken root in his mind. Jongho was left sitting there, alone in the silence of the cafe, the weight of the unanswered call and the unknown identity of this Hyunwoo pressing down on him. The sense of unease was wrapping around him like a shroud. As much as he tried, he couldn't shake off the thought of you being in a relationship with another man. It was a possibility he hadn't considered, and it filled him with a dread he couldn't explain. Just as Jongho was caught up in his thoughts, your phone screen lit up again. This time, it was a text message notification. Despite his better judgment, Jongho couldn't help but glance at the screen. The message preview displayed on the lock screen,

Hyunwoo: hi love! could you please call me back asap? can’t wait to see you today!

The text message hit Jongho like a punch to the gut. The words hi love and can't wait to see you today echoed in his mind, each phrase laced with an intimacy that confirmed his worst fears. Hyunwoo wasn't just a friend or a relative; he was someone special to you. The realization struck Jongho hard, sending a wave of mixed emotions crashing over him. He felt a sharp pang of jealousy, but also confusion and sadness. He had no right to feel this way, he reminded himself. You were entitled to your own life, and your own relationships. But knowing this didn't make the pain any less real. As he sat there, staring at the phone, a part of him wanted to call Hyunwoo back, to hear his voice and understand more about the man who seemed to hold such a significant place in your life. But he knew that would be wrong. This wasn't his business, and it wouldn't help the situation.

Instead, he took a deep breath and decided to focus on what he could do. You had left your phone behind, and that was the immediate issue that needed solving. He had to find you and return your phone. Determined to set aside his own feelings for now, Jongho stood up and left the café. He scanned the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of you in the crowd. As Jongho walked down the street, your phone safely in his pocket, his mind raced with an onslaught of thoughts and emotions. He chastised himself for not asking sooner if you were seeing someone. How could he have been so naive? You were an attractive, remarkable woman—of course, there was a chance someone else had captured your heart during the years you were apart. The idea of you being in love with someone else felt like a knife twisting in his chest. Was he foolish to think you could rekindle what you once had? The possibility of being a family had seemed so tangible just moments ago. Now, the reality of Hyunwoo's message loomed over him, threatening to shatter that dream. Jongho's thoughts spiraled. He questioned if your heart had moved on if you had found solace in someone else's arms. How could you not, after all these years? Life doesn't stand still, and he had to confront the painful possibility that you might have found happiness without him. Jongho had held onto the hope that one day, you could rebuild what was lost. But now, doubt gnawed at him. Was it too late? With each step, the questions grew louder. The image of Hyunwoo's affectionate message replayed in his mind, fueling his insecurity. Jongho needed answers. He had to know if there was still a chance for the two of you, or if he was holding onto a dream that had long since slipped away. Finally, as he turned the last corner that led directly to your apartment complex, he saw you. You were heading towards a small, colorful playground. Relief and anxiety washed over him in equal measure. He called out your name, his voice carrying a mix of desperation and hope.

You turned, surprise and confusion flickering across your face as you saw him approaching. Jongho reached you, slightly out of breath, and pulled your phone from his pocket, handing it to you. "You left this at the café," he said, trying to steady his voice.

"Oh," you breathed out, taking the phone from him. "Thank you." You glanced down at the device, momentarily distracted, before looking back up at Jongho. "I didn't even realize..."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "There's something I need to ask you."

You looked at him, a hint of worry in your eyes. "What is it?"

"Mommy!" Your attention was quickly diverted by the sound of your daughter's voice. Turning, you saw Nari running towards you from the playground, her face lit up with joy. It was a sight that always warmed your heart,

"Sweetie," you greeted, bending down to scoop her up into your arms. Nari wrapped her arms around your neck, giggling happily. "Were you waiting for mommy?" you asked her, your voice soft and filled with warmth. As you looked around the playground, your eyes landed on your mom who was standing a little distance away, waving at you.

"Yes, mommy!" Nari replied excitedly. Jongho watched the tender scene unfold before him, his heart aching with a longing he tried to suppress. Despite the questions swirling in his mind, he couldn't help but feel a pang of affection as he saw you with your daughter. The sight of you two together was beautiful, yet it filled him with a bittersweet emotion. He yearned to be a part of it, to share in the joy and laughter.

As Nari looked over your shoulder, her eyes widened in recognition a bright smile spreading across her face. "Mommy, it's Uncle Jongho!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. She wriggled out of your arms and ran towards Jongho, her little arms outstretched.

Jongho, taken aback but pleasantly surprised, crouched down to her level, taking her in his arms. "Hey, Nari," he greeted, his voice soft.

"What are you doing here? Did you miss me?" She giggled, her eyes sparkling with amusement and curiosity.

Jongho chuckled softly at her question. "Of course, I missed you," he replied, playing along with her innocent curiosity.

"Will you play with me?" she asked, her head resting on his shoulder, her eyes glimmering as she looked up at him. Jongho looked at you, awaiting your response.

"Actually, sweetheart, Uncle Jongho was just leaving. But he'll come to play with you soon, alright?"

Nari's eyes lit up at the promise of a future playdate. "Really?" she asked, her voice filled with excitement. "Promise?"

Jongho nodded, managing a small smile despite the turmoil inside him. "I promise, Nari." His eyes met yours again, the intensity of his gaze reflecting his determination to keep his word.

Nari giggled, obviously pleased. "Okay! I will wait for you, Uncle Jongho!" After Nari's giggle subsided, Jongho gently set her back on her feet, giving her a warm smile. Nari beamed back at him, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. "Remember," she said in a voice full of excitement, "you can bring Uncle Wooyoung with you!"

Her innocent request brought a genuine chuckle from Jongho, he nodded in agreement. "I'll see what I can do about that," he replied playfully.

"Me and Grandma made cookies for Uncle Wooyoung!" she stated proudly, her smile growing even wider. "I want to give him my cookies!" Her words were filled with such joy and anticipation that it was contagious. You couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

The way Nari's face lit up at the thought of giving cookies to Uncle Wooyoung touched your heart. "That's very sweet of you, Nari," you replied, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I'm sure Uncle Wooyoung will love your cookies."

Jongho looked at Nari, his heart filling with warmth at her innocent excitement. "And I'm sure they're the best cookies in the whole world," he added, earning a delighted giggle from Nari.

Nari was quick to respond. "I have them in my backpack!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement. Before Jongho could react, she turned on her heel and dashed off towards her grandmother. Jongho watched her, his eyes never leaving her. He saw her reach her grandmother and point to her backpack. The older woman bent down and handed the small backpack to Nari, who eagerly began to rummage through it. After a moment, she pulled out a small purple box and turned back to face Jongho, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. With the box clutched tightly in her hands, she started running back towards him.

With the box tightly held in her small hands, Nari hurried back to Jongho, a wide smile on her face. "Here, Uncle Jongho!" she exclaimed, holding out the box to him. "These are the cookies!"

Jongho accepted the box with a soft smile, his heart warming at the innocent gesture. "Thank you, Nari," he said, his voice gentle. "I'm sure Uncle Wooyoung will love them."

"Promise you'll give them to him?" Nari asked, her eyes wide with hope.

Jongho nodded, meeting her earnest gaze with a gentle smile. "I promise, Nari." With that, he stood up, sharing a last glance with you, "I think it's time for me to leave," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. He looked at you and then at Nari, his gaze lingering on her cheerful face. There was a hint of regret in his eyes, a silent wish that he could stay longer, and be a part of this world that you and Nari shared. But he knew he had to respect your boundaries and give you the space and time you needed. So, with a heavy heart, he turned to leave, his steps slow and reluctant.

Before he could turn away completely, Nari's voice stopped him. "Bye, Uncle Jongho!" she called out, waving at him. "Don't forget the cookies!" Her innocent reminder brought a small smile to his face, momentarily easing the heaviness in his heart.

"I won't, Nari," he promised, waving back at her. Then, with a final glance at you, he walked away, his figure gradually disappearing into the crowd.

As you watched him leave, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. There was relief, yes, but also a strange sense of loss, a lingering sadness that surprised you. Despite the complexities and challenges ahead, Jongho's genuine effort to connect with Nari stirred a hopeful spark in your heart. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something beautiful.

[riniworld]

YANDERE!knight x PRINCESS!reader

you could tell I'm in love with royal stories?

warinings// alot of skipping times,mentions of a

k!$$,reader is an illegitimate daughter,one bad word

reference;you,y/n,your highness,my lady,her

"curse" "pathetic" "shame"

you've heard those words alot in your life.

You were an illegitimate daughter of the king,The result of a forbidden relationship,A reminder to the queen of her husband's cheat.

your biology mother has died when she gave birth to you and your father,the king,has taken care of you ever since.

he has been nice to you,He didn't differentiate between you and your sister at all,he was giving you everything you need everything you want,like you were a real royal figure.

but it was.

when the king died everything has changed

the queen has treated you like shit,well she didn't make you become a servant or smth,she always said she didn't want to see your face so that's why.

but you've been alone,no one dared to talk to you.

your "sister" didn't say anything about you or treating you wrong she simply...act like you never been there.

yeah everyone was calling you "princess",respecting you.

the servants kept serving you(even though they won't talk to you),you had your own garden even!

but to be all alone between a lot of people was torturing.

so you were visiting the village/city every week. everyone adored you.

you were so kind, gentle, you were...angelic.

you could hear gossiping in the halls as you walk

talking about a personal knight for the princess,your sister.

You laughed internally,praying for whoever that person was. your sister was...a bit grumpy, you've never interacted with her before though.

as you were heading to your favorite place,your garden,you saw your sister heading somewhere and that usual frown on her face.

there was a big man behind her,wearing armored clothes.

he looked at you from the corner of his eye,you waved at him with a smile.

ignore

oh yeah,of course.the queen has warned him from you,like everyone else.

you sighed as you continou your way.

8 P.M.

you wasn't a fan of social interactions or gatherings.

but here you are sitting in the corner. there was ball,everyone was noisy, dancing and drinking.

you were far from everyone, just sitting in the corner drinking your drink in peace.

untill you hear footsteps coming your way,you swear if it was someone want to dance with you too you're going to snap out-

"sorry for interrupting you,your highness" someone talked in a firm tone

you look up to see...your sister personal knight??

"i think it's a bit dangerous for you to sit all alone here,anyone could take advantage from this situation"

you place your drink down and smile

"don't worry I'm capable to defend myself"

"forgive me,your highness, i didn't mean to offend you or something, i just thought it would be right to tell you."

"it's okay you didn't say something wrong"

....

there was an awkward silent

"want a drink?" you broke the silent

"i don't have the right to want anything while I'm in your presence,your highness"

how could he answer so quickly-

"don't be like that...it's a ball for everyone to enjoy"

no answer

you sigh as You sign to the servant to bring another drink, as the servant bring it to your table.

you're confused why he didn't go away but you give him his drink anyway.

"your highness it's really not necessary i-"

"you dare to refuse my offer?"

".....no i don't. thank you,your highness"

you smile slightly as he took it

after some minutes you started "why didn't you went away?"

"do you want me to go,your highness?"

"no-no i mean why didn't you?"

"may i know why would i?"

"didn't..-the quee-i mean her majesty tell you about me?"

"yes,she did"

"but you're still..."

"i understand your point,your highness. but i don't understand her majesty's point"

"in any way?"

"forgive me but i was watching you sometime by now"

"wait-what?"

"we're in the same palace i would definitely run into you,and I've heard the commoners talks about you quite often and by what i heard you were too good to them that's made me curious as why her majesty doesn't want anyone near you"

"oh"

you was too stunned to talk...oh was everything you managed to spit out

you wanted to tear up right now, it was just a normal few sentence someone could even mistake it as an offending to them, but for you..no one has said such things like that or even talked to you in the first place

you bowed your head down

the knight speak as if the realization hit him

"i didn't-i didn't mean to offend you,your highness"

"no you..didn't" You raised your head but looked away "i appreciate what you just said,thank you-...uh may i know your name?"

"my name? he cleared his throat my name doesn't matter I'm just your servant,your highness" he said with more respect

"it's a command"

"senor"

"what a strange name,but it's a beautiful one. I'm Y/N if you didn't know my name earlier heh"

"it's such a honor from you to tell me your name,your highness,but if it's not a bother i feel more comfortable calling you "your highness" "

"of course, go with anything makes you comfortable. even though i don't think we'll interact again" you mumble

"if you'll excuse me your highness, i have to go back to my position" he bow and go back when you nod

you didn't want him to go, it was a nice feeling to talk with someone again

(the villagers doesn't count because you couldn't have a proper conversion with them because they'll be too tense to talk with you)

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

after that interact with senor he have been noticing you more he's not ignoring you that much

he would react to your waves with a nod from a far or small movement so you'll know that he saw you

your sister wasn't caring much if he was there or not so you'll take this opportunity to steal him away sometime even if he wasn't approval of your idea

by time you grew closer and closer each time he even visited your personal garden! and became less offical with you but not much

you were too happy to find someone to talk to and spend time with

as for the queen,she's so busy with her duties to even noticing something, maybe she just set this rule and never cared if it broke?

5 A.M.

you and senor where walking in the forest by the river

you planned to go alone in the first place but when he saw you he said it's too dangerous to go alone

"so..you say you knew my father?"

"yes, my lady i did. he had saved my mother from death."

"was..your mother ill?"

"yes, my father wasn't there and i was young to have a job so she was the one working but when she fell down i couldn't do anything....then one day i saw his majesty's court and ran to him the guard has stopped me from going near but i kept shouting for him to help us..then he commanded the guard to let me go as he begin to listen to me, the next thing i know is a lot of money placed in my hand"

sob

senor looked at your way as soon as he heard you sobbing

"my lady are you-are you crying? i-i didn't mean-"

"it's so sad" sob

he just looked at you with big eyes don't know what to do..you..hugged him his hands was in the air where to place them?!

beat beat

shit you were too close,your body pressing against him. did you feel his heart beat? because i think even the village could hear it now

finally he decide to place his hand on your back.

you were talking but he couldn't hear you now, he's more focused on your position.

he was feeling that for a while now but he just denied it. no impossible how could he fall for the princess?

control yourself senor!

"thank you for your kind words my lady" He pushed you back a little

"I'm-I'm sorry i couldn't control myself" you walked back to give him a personal space

your foot slips from the edge as you fell down in the river.

"my lady!" senor yelled as he swim after you

his armor made it difficult to swim fast but eventually he catchs you.

he saw a rock and hold on it "hold on my lady I'll save you" he said between his breath

sitting at the groumd holding you against him, he was panicing now, why hasn't you opened your eyes yet??

"my lady, y/n,are you okay? wake up!"

cough cough

"oh god you're alive"

you opened your eyes slowly, your view still blurry becouse of the water

he made you sit straight as you coughed the water inside your chest

"are you okay?"

you nod as you looked at him.

"thank you. you're really my hero" you giggled

that wasn't a funny thing! you were about to die he should be mad now, scold you even.

but again he's heart start bounding. your hero? your...and you were his lady, he couldn't control himself anymore.

the next thing you see is his lips against yours,it was a long deep kiss he wanted for sometime now.

senor could care less if it's forbidden he was about to lose you seconds ago you're just paying for scaring him to death.

when you return you got a long harsh lecture from the queen on how you were just a wight on her to take and useless

was it? you don't know anymore. all you could think about is that kiss and senor, what was he doing now?

my back hurt :') i have exams soon so i just thought why don't i write something before it?

I'll make this a series too

hope you liked it!

have a good night/day

[ohnogachaverse]

So the facts are (with spoilers, obviously)

There are 5 sinners. Rhinedottir (Albedo's creator), Surtalogi (Skirk's master), Vedrfolnir (Dain's brother) and then "Rächer of Solnari" ("Avenger of Solnari") Rerir and "The Wise" Hroptatyr who we know nothing about, but since other sinners have some relations to playable or future playable characters it's not out of the realm of possibility that Rerir and Hroptatyr do too

"They were once people of great esteem in Khaenri'ah, those who carried the hopes of the nation"

According to Dain the sinners couldn't resist the call of the abyss and became transcendent beings in possessing of a great power before or during the Cataclysm. However other source (Shadow amidst snowstorms event) mentions that Rhinedottir became a sinner after Khaenri'ah fell. I'm pretty sure the one who said that was Albedo, who was created after the Cataclysm

Kaeya's father left him in Mondstadt as "Khaenri'ah's last hope"

Alberich is the surname of the founder of the Abyss order and Kaeya is his descendant. Kaeya claims that he didn't know about that.

During the Cataclysm pure-blood Khaenri'ahns turned immortal, others turned into monsters

Chlothar Alberich, the founder of the Abyss order, had an illegitimate son who turned into a hilichurl and died young. We don't know if he had legitimate children and we know nothing about his other possible relatives. Even if he did have other children, he didn't sound too fond of "the life that my family had arranged for me"

Chlothar had founded the Abyss Order after a religious experience an encounter with Vedrfolnir. He has also died at least 100 years after founding the Order, even through he was supposed to be immortal

The Alberich Clan was a nobility clan who was known for producing leaders of Khaenri'ah's knights. Anfortas Alberich became a regent when King Irmin was unable to rule. Anfortas supposedly died in Sumeru. It's is NOT confirmed from what I got: we have a message which says that his squad fought to the last one and an achievement In the name of Anfortas "visit the place where the heroes met their end". Is Anfortas considered part of these heroes?

We don't know the relation between Kaeya, Chlothar and Anfortas apart from the fact that they are relatives

So, currently one of the sinners (Rerir or Hroptatyr, most likely) being an Alberich and therefore related to Kaeya and the Abyss order is not impossible. Hells, even Vedrfolnir and/or Dain could be an Alberich - we don't know their last name but we know that at least Dain was a knight, and the captain of the Royal Guard is a high title. And Alberich clan had a lot of high ranking knights.

But even if we leave Dain&Vedrfolnir out, still. The Sinners were held in high esteem, same as the only aristocratic clan we currently know of.

Also idk, the fact that Dain called them the hopes and Kaeya was called the last hope doesn't seem meaningless to me. But someone should probably check if chinese uses the same word, it might be a translation coincidence

[lovedreamer11]

I don't believe in love between Harwin and Rhaenyra. I really don't. What did Harwin do for Rhaenyra in six years of relationship except conceive three illegitimate children? Nothing!

It seems to me that after Luke was born, and ideally after Jace was born, it was possible to understand that passing off obvious bastards as Laenor's legitimate sons was a bad idea. If Harwin was not going to break off his relationship with the princess, then they should at least think about the possibility of taking moon tea.

Even after Jace was born, rumors began to circulate about the boy's paternity and quiet insults to Rhaenyra and her reputation, and what does Harwin do when unpleasant things are said about his son and the woman he loves? He makes Rhaenyra two more sons. Although Rhaenyra is also to blame for this. She herself should have been more careful and circumspect.

Harwin also had three sons who called another man their father. Harwin watched his sons grow up thinking of him as an outsider, and again he did nothing. I think if Harwin truly loved Rhaenyra and his children, he would have killed Laenor long ago. It's not that hard. Laenor was not a warrior, and Harwin was a very strong man and spent a lot of time with Rhaenyra. It would have been enough to simply choose the moment when Laenor visited Rhaenyra and break his neck. If he had done it before Jace was born, then no one would have suspected him.

Note, when Daemon had the opportunity to marry Rhaenyra, he certainly took it. Moreover, if the probability is that Rhaenyra was already pregnant with Aegon. Daemon did not wait for the birth of the child and watch his son consider another man the father. He did what Harwin should have done when Rhaenyra became pregnant with Jace.

And then we have Rhaenyra. During the period when Daemon and Laena live in Essos, Rhaenyra spends a lot of time with Harwin and gives birth to a new child almost every year, but after Daemon's return and the beginning of Rhaenyra's friendship with Laena, there is some kind of pause in the relationship between the princess and the knight. Moreover, Rhaenyra marries shortly after Harwin's death.

Personally, this is my opinion. Rhaenyra and Harwin just had sex. They were comfortable and convenient with each other, and perhaps they were happy together, but they were not the love of each other's lives. Harwin does nothing to protect Rhaenyra's reputation and his sons, and Rhaenyra forgets about her lover after Daemon's return.

[nebulaafterdark]

More Than Anyone Pt. 5

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: The fate of the realm lies in their hands. Everyone must choose a side.

18+ ONLY, Targest, mentions of sex, birth and character death.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Aegon dreams of a boy that night, a little babe with dark hair and his eyes. In his children he saw Y/N, but he also saw himself. Aegon hates himself, and only in the beauty of their shared features did he find acceptance and love for tiny bits of him.

This child is Y/N’s through and through. His sweet girl wants to name him Aegon. After the man she so dearly loves. Aegon hasn’t the heart to tell her that she’s wrong. He isn’t worth anything, he never was and he never will be, because he is Aegon. Not a Conqueror, not a King, just a man forever in her debt.

Y/N made him whole, the closest he’s ever been to it. Though he cried himself to sleep, face buried in her neck, Aegon knows he is safe to do so. For he is unconditionally loved.

“Aegon.”

Y/N’s voice is wrong, pinched with the heaviness of tears and distress. It does not match the joy on the face of the woman he dreams of.

“Aegon, please wake up.”

He does. Disoriented and dizzy at the sight of her, fully dressed. The sun has not yet risen but the flame of their bedside candle is lit, Y/N’s face glistening with tears.

“Sweetheart.” Aegon murmurs, voice rough with sleep. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “What’s happened?”

Her brows pull together, bottom lip quivering as she attempts to force the words out.

“Do not cry.” Aegon pleads, moving to sit, catching her face in his hands.

“I am frightened.”

“Why, my dearest love? Tell me why.” His eyes search her face for any indication.

“Because I am a bastard.” She chokes out, lungs taut; fighting against the air she’s forcing into them. “And a bastard cannot sit the Iron Throne.”

The throne? What of Rhaenyra? “Why would you say such things? Laenor Velaryon was your father, Rhaenyra is your mother. Corlys and Rhaenys are proud to have you as a member of their house. Sure as Viserys is your grandsire. You are my wife, my future Queen.”

Y/N shakes her head, “they will demand you take it.”

“No one will demand a thing.”

“Aegon, please,” she sobs, “you don’t understand. Viserys is dead.”

“My father?” Aegon springs to his feet.

Y/N nods, desperately clinging to his hand. “I’m so sorry, Aegon.”

The Prince blinks at her, is this real? Is any of this real? “Does everyone know?”

“I don’t believe anyone knows, aside from my family and a few maids.”

His heart is beating too fast. “Where is your mother?”

“She is-” Y/N breaks off. “She has begun her labors but…it’s too soon. The Maesters cannot say what will happen.”

“Rhaenyra is strong as she is stubborn. She will come out the other side of this.”

“And if she does not?”

Aegon draws his wife into his arms, “then you shall be our Queen. Knowing it is your rightful place, you were born to be Queen. My Queen, who I swear fealty to. Whom I will not usurp, nor betray, by anyone’s will. Not my mother, not my grandsire; even Aemond cannot sway me. I kneel to you freely and above all others.”

“Are you certain that is your desire?” Y/N swipes the back of her hand over her face, attempting to dry it.

“You are my desire. Your continued happiness and peace. To stand forever at your side.” His palm finds her belly. “I will defend you and our children, from any threat. Naysayers will be put to the sword. And so help me; any man who dares calls you a bastard, any man who so much as suggests that you are illegitimate shall be sent to the wall.”

Y/N nods. “Thank you.”

“My father loved Rhaenyra, he loved you. This line of succession was his wish and in that he never faltered.”

“You were his son, Aegon.”

“I have made my peace with this, Y/N. For all he was my father, he did not like me. He did not want me.” Aegon says with finality.

“That is not your fault.” Y/N clings to him. I like you. I love you. I want you.

“It matters not. For now, we wait for word of your mother’s condition; then we determine a course of action.” It is rare for Aegon to take charge in these affairs, but she needs him now. To be efficient, to be leveled, to be kind.

————————————————————————-

Rhaenyra’s cries echo through the corridors of the Red Keep. Her three eldest children lying in wait, just outside her chambers.

“It’s taking too long.” Luce shakes his head, dark hair bouncing as he does.

“Be patient, brother.” Y/N passes a hand over his curls, “these things take time.”

“All is well,” Jace assures him, though he is not sure himself. Pacing the floor as the noise intensifies.

“Get out!” Rhaenyra roars, to whom the children cannot say.

“She should not be in so much pain.” Lucerys pulls away from his sister. He loves her, but in this moment it is his mother he wants.

There is another howl, a wail, and silence.

Y/N presses her ear to the door, waiting, hoping, praying for the babe to cry.

“I’m going in,” Jacaerys moves her aside, swinging open the door.

“Mother,” Luce rushes past them both.

“I am well,” Rhaenyra pants, exhausted from her efforts. “All is well, sweet boy.”

“Thank the gods.” Y/N breathes.

“You’ve a little sister.” Rhaenyra informs them.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Jace smiles. Moving to kneel beside Luce on either side of their mother.

Y/N inches in, peering down at infant. She does not cry, her eyes wide and searching. She is so tiny, but she is, “beautiful. She’s beautiful.”

“Visenya,” Rhaenyra tells her.

“Healthy?” Y/N makes no other move toward her.

Rhaenyra looks up from the babe to smile at her daughter, “I believe so. In any event, she will not bite, come closer.”

Y/N hesitates.

“Come,” Rhaenyra insists.

The Princess obeys, closing the distance between them to slip in between her brothers. The infant kicks her little legs, sucking a fist into her mouth.

“Would you like to hold her?” Rhaenyra asks.

————————————————————————

“Behind you!” Rhaena points just beyond the children’s heads. Joffrey, Aegon III, Viserys II are gathered with Visera, Dahlia and Laenor in the children’s chambers. “A big scary dragon!”

The children squeal as Aegon II flaps his arms, chasing them about.

The adults in the room know that this is hardly a time for games or laughter. The fate of the realms hangs in the balance of these next hours. But somethings are not for children’s ears and so they shield them, at any cost.

“Save me, Baela.” Visera tugs at her Aunt’s dress.

“I’ve got you, Princess.” The woman takes the girl into her arms. “We’ll need a weapon.”

Joffrey tosses over a pillow, “get him, Baela! Get the dragon.”

Laenor catches his father’s leg, wrapping around as if to scale him. Seated at his foot.

“What are you doing, Laenor?” Aegon chuckles at his son.

“Papa.”

“No, Laenor. Papa is a big scary dragon.” Dahlia giggles, peeking out from behind the arm chair.

The little boy only holds him tighter.

“Now I have a baby dragon.” Aegon reaches down, taking his son into his arms. Continuing to chase Viserys as he toddles after his brothers. Screaming as they scramble with huge grins on their faces.

When Aegon finally claims a victim, it is Joff, tickling him into submission.

“Behold,” Aegon chuckles, “my opponent sues for mercy.”

The door opens then, the Maester stepping inside. “Prince Aegon, if I may have a word.”

Aegon swallows, prying himself away from the children with a forced grin. The news must be grim.

The men step out into the hallway, Aegon closing the door behind him. “Well?”

“By the request of Prince Daemon we have examined the contents consumed by the Princess Rhaenyra at your last supper. Her cup did contain remnants of moon tea, seemly enough to force her body into labor.”

“That is awful,” Aegon frowns, lost for words.

“His grace is looking into the matter.” The Maester assures him. “I rush this message to you, in hopes of sparing Princess Y/N from a similar fate. Until we can determine the culprit of this heinous act, her intake must be closely monitored.”

“Of course, thank you.”

————————————————————————

Visenya clutches Lucerys’ finger in hand, swaying gently in her eldest brother’s arms.

“Soon you will have two more little ones to play with.” Jacaerys tells his sister, fair haired as her father and mother.

“Two?” Y/N quirks a brow.

Rhaenyra is resting on her bed, just a few feet away. Watching her children with a tired smile.

“Yours…and mine.”

Y/N blinks at him. “Baela is with child?”

Jace nods, “the Maester confirmed it.”

Luce nudges his brother, lightly, in congratulations.

“I’m very happy for you.” Y/N beams, they have wanted a child for sometime.

Rhaenyra’s light snores greet their ears.

“We should leave her to rest.”

“Will you have the nurse sent in? I believe Visenya is hungry.” Lucerys says, as Y/N rises to her feet.

“Of course,” She nods. Her brothers are men now, soon to have families of their own. When had childhood fleeted them?

The Princess hails her mother’s nurse before returning to Aegon and her brother’s wives with the good news. Only her husband is missing from the children’s rooms.

“Where is Aegon?” Y/N wonders, greeting her children as they come.

“We thought he’d gone to find you.” Rhaena’s brows furrow.

Part 6

Series Taglist: @sophiexoxosblog @alicentswife @f4ll-for-you @tempt-ress @percyjacksonspeen @zoleea-exultant @midnightrqin @buckystevelove @httpjiikook @neenieweenie @springholland @zeennnnnnn @yelenabeleovapocket @nejiho3 @thatkindofgurl @aemondsb1tch @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

[kacievvbbbb]

Seven Warlords of the Sea

*edit: because I like an idiot forgot Akainu didn't actually want the warlord program destroyed 😭

the real reason that Akainu *should have* voted for the destruction of the Warlord program is, besides them being filthy pirates, they were also just fucking embarrassing.

Like pathetically, how did we let this happen, embarrassing In the amount of time we have known them, between the 12 total Shichibukai;

4 of them got their asses beat by the same dude (1 of them before he even became a warlord)

2 of them went on to openly work for/ with said dude

1 of them literally fell in love with and actively sabotages efforts to apprehend this same dude

At two separate points they have actively tried to recruit (and succeeded once) the sons of two of their biggest ops.

Not to mention how 1 of them also got their ass beat by said dude's brother and then they would lose 3 more on the same day over the war for the life of said brother who was the same son they tried to recruit

2 of the Warlords would then go on to harbor/ mentor a member of this dude's crew and the dude himself! Arguably when he was the most wanted criminal alive. While the member that should have been the most robotically compliant protected the dude's pirate ship with his life.

They got played four different times on a world stage by 4 different members and 3 of said times all involved THIS SAME DUDE!

2 of the times involving the take over of a country that was then foiled by said dude while the marines did nothing.

They've had to imprison 2 of them and brainwash a 3rd

They've had to shop for replacements 7 whole times just in the span of 3 years

At no point have all seven members attended a meeting. Hell Hancock has attended not a one.

During the months before their disbandment there weren't even 7 of them! there were only 5

They are pretty sure 1 of them is fucking an emperor, 1 of them was working for an emperor, 1 of them might be (it is unconfirmed) the illegitimate son of a now dead emperor and another is protected by The actual fucking Dark King.

They literally had to fire Moria for being a fucking embarrassment

And one of them is a fucking clown

that would go on to recruit 2 other former warlords to create a guild that encourages the hunting of marines for sport and rise to the ranks of emperor.

Of course Akainu hates their fucking guts. They are quite literally the stupidest group of people he has ever had to work with in his life and they seem to bring out new levels of previously unreached stupidity in the marines! Just a cesspool of failure and incompetency trying to call itself a program.

95% of the reason Sengoku retired was to get away from these fucking idiots. He was drowing in the sea of paperwork Mihawk alone was causing not to mention the rest of their dumbasses and Akainu isn't about that life.

And that brings me to reason number 184 of why Akainu *should have* voted yes on disbanding the warlords

dealing with the fucking paper work storm and international incident that hit Sengoku's desk everytime Mihawk decided that needing to be fucked outweighed being subjected to an idiot. Nah Akainu needed them gone like yesterday.

[littlemisssatanist]

on the topic of me being team green

a bit of a different post for me, considering what my blog is, but i was honestly so offended at being called a misogynist i made a fresh google docs page and typed out 1634 words of me ranting.

is there a real reason to post this? probably not, but i felt the need to establish myself as team green, considering all the posts i've been liking and commenting on lately. (if you are team green, and you see this, feel free to be my friend. in fact, i am begging you to be my friend. i have no tg friends and i need to see the light).

beware, typos and repitition are probably aplenty.

Whenever I see people talk about being TG, I always will see TB stans in the comments saying something along the lines of “Oh, you must be a misogynist, then.” And you know, it never happened to me until a few days ago when I commented on a TikTok post about Rhaenyra beefing with two-year-old Aegon. Someone replied to me, saying that I only brought it up because I’m a misogynist.

And. You know, I’ve been insulted before. I’ve been called ugly, stupid, immature, whatever whatever. But I honestly can’t think of a worse thing for someone to say to me, that I’m a misogynist. I know this isn’t that commentator’s fault, because they obviously don't know me. But the irony of calling me a misogynist when I am the most misandristic person to exist on this earth. I pray for the downfall of men daily. I make fun of them. Whenever I see an AITA post on TikTok, I am immediately on the woman’s side, regardless of what she may have done. 

It’s because I distrust men to a certain degree. You know what’s different for ASoIaF, though? It’s not real. It’s all fiction. TB stans will come on the internet daily and complain about TG existing, calling us misogynists, elevating the conflict between us to that of a literal genocide. Are y'all delusional? Are you guys stuck so far up Rhaenyra’s ass that you can’t tell reality from fiction? 

Y’all love to preach about how Rhaenyra is the number one feminist girlboss of Westeros, without realizing exactly how exactly you’re falling into the trap. You uphold a woman because she’s the heir, meanwhile she steals Rhaena’s and Baela’s inheritance in order to put her illegitimate sons on the throne (which, btw, is treason). But of course you guys wouldn’t care, because you like to think Rhaenyra is the exception to the rule.

That’s the thing. She’s only the exception because of her father, the king. After Viserys dies, she suddenly finds herself back in the same patriarchal world that y’all love to claim she’s trying to overthrow, that she’s trying to change. 

I don’t hate Rhaenyra because she’s a woman. I hate her because she’s a stupid woman. She knew exactly what it meant to be a woman in Westeros; she gets forced into an unwanted marriage (and even in that she gets far more freedom and will to choose than other women), she is undermined for being a woman, and others view her as unfit to rule. I would sympathize with her if she did absolutely anything to change that whatsoever. 

Y’all love to say that she’s so iconic with her dragon scenes, but what did that really accomplish aside from showcasing she is unfit to rule? She has three illegitimate sons who look absolutely nothing like her. Even if Viserys was on her side, everyone knows that they are bastards. Like, at least Cersei’s bastards looked like her. Rhaenyra was a white woman with white hair married to a black man with white hair, and her first three children are white boys with brown hair. Girl, if you were going to have bastards, at least do it with someone that bears at least some resemblance to your husband, or yourself. She purposefully made it harder for herself.

And for those of you guys who will bring up something about Laenor being gay. I genuinely don’t know how to tell you this, but if they truly cared about keeping up appearances, they would have had children. I say this as a queer person myself: If I were in Laenor’s shoes, I would have children with my coverup. Afterall, that’s what a coverup is for. And also: I could find nothing about Laenor being infertile. 

And for those who will also bring up Laenor accepting the Strong boys as his own, I literally couldn't care less. Everyone and their grandmother could see that those boys were bastards. Laenor accepting them and Viserys being delusional doesn’t change the fact that they were illegitimate, and everybody knew it. Secondly: Rhaenyra would need to admit the boys were bastards in the first place for anybody to claim them, something she did not do. In fact, she went so far the opposite way, I wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to delude herself that they were legitimate. 

And this I don’t understand. How do you shoot yourself in the foot, not once, not twice, but three times, with three obvious bastards, knowing that people would oppose you, people already oppose you, and still think yourself fit to rule? Every decision Rhaenyra makes is so stupid, it’s almost mind blowing to me. To live in Dragonstone for years while your father, the king, is sick (in which case, btw, the heir is supposed to step in to rule). Instead, we see Alicent ruling the kingdoms from behind the shadow, because Rhaenyra does nothing but live out a couple of years of bliss and comes back to King's Landing expecting everything to be handed to her. She does absolutely no politicking, absolutely nothing in order to sway the lords to her side. Should she be so surprised, then, that she is met with such resistance? 

Y’all TB stands love to call TG misogynistic because we don’t worship your perfect little dragon lady, as if her uncle-husband isn’t Lord of Fleabottom and grooms and rapes her from a young age. As if Daemon hasn’t called women whores and bitches, and his first wife, Rhea Royce, ‘Bronze Bitch.’ Like, is that not disgusting to you? Y’all love to preach about how Daemon loved Rhaenyra, as if he didn’t choke her the moment she disagreed with his methods. As if his first instinct everytime is anger and death and war.

(In case y’all couldn’t tell, I am extremely anti-war. I am under the impression that if you can’t solve things by talking it out, then you are definitely not mature enough to be ruling a kingdom, and Daemon is one of the most immature rapist misogynists I’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing).

(As an aside, I am not blaming Rhaenyra for her relationship with Daemon. Yes, I do find that most of her actions are stupid, but I cannot deny the fact that she was groomed and raped by him-- yes, raped, because she was a child, and children cannot consent. That is in no way her fault, and Daemon is the one responsible for this).

Y’all praise Rhaenyra for her maternal instincts while simultaneously hating Alicent for hers. Of course, an eye for an eye is unreasonable and far too much, but a son for a son is totally reasonable and to be expected. Rhaenyra protecting her children is being a good mother, but Alicent (rightfully) assuming that her children would be persecuted if Rhaenyra ascended the throne is her being a jealous bitch. Y’all blow her “sweet sister” line so much out of proportion, saying that she wouldn’t have killed her siblings if they just came over to her side. As if Alicent’s children, Alicent’s family, would choose Rhaenyra over her. Because “Helaena was the only good green” and “if only she just joined Rhaenyra”. Why would she ever do that? Because Aegon was a bad husband? The show literally stated that he only ever laid with her when he was drunk, because he couldn't do it otherwise. Obviously neither of them sought any pleasure from it, but they are still family. Helaena only had Aemond, Aegon, Daeron, and Alicent. Why would Rhaenyra ever be worth what her family is worth to her?

On a similar note, TB stans will constantly say how “oh, I feel sorry for younger Alicent, but not older Alicent.” As if Alicent wasn’t a 14 year old girl groomed and abused, as if she wasn’t twice pregnant by 17. As if Alicent wasn’t a victim doing her best in a world specifically designed against her.

That’s the difference between her and Rhaenyra. Both were victims to a much older man, but Rhaenyra considered herself an exception. Alicent had no choice but to be the bad guy, and despite how much y’all love to ignore it, Rhaenyra should have done the same. “Oh but Alicent was jealous of Rhaenyra!” Like you wouldn’t also be jealous of Rhaenyra? Rhaenyra, the perfect little princess, loved by her rapist daddy the king, who had everything handed to her on a silver platter. Would you not also be infuriated by her attitude, the entitled way she views the world? I’m sorry, but if your “strong female character” needs every other female character to agree with her, then she’s not that strong. Or a girlboss.

In conclusion, Rhaenyra sucks and is a terrible role model. True feminists love Alicent Hightower. Also, negative comments will be deleted, bc yk what is so fun about the internet? You can block people. I know, crazy concept. If you don’t want to see me or other TG on your for you page, consider blocking them. That tends to get rid of the thing you don’t want to see. I will also be doing this to anyone who thinks they’re smart enough to argue this topic with me. I do not care, hope your day goes terribly. <3

Btw, please never call me a misogynist again. In fact, you can call me Little Miss Misandrist, because there is no universe out there where I side with a man over Alicent Hightower. Or any woman at all, for that matter. 

(Except for maybe if the pickings were between Rhaenyra and Criston. If you’re one of the media illiterate TB stands who consider Criston to be an incel, you should also go ahead and block me, your stupidness is draining my brain cells).

Stay mad, xoxo.