#already knowing what will happen to her the event will break my heart

[rinavatrix]

soul weaver face reveal made me squeal

[sheerioswifties]

.

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @itsafullmoon

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning! This turned a lot more funny than expected, the werewolf is basically a himbo and the events are very fast-paced. Hope you enjoy!

Request: I’d like to request a NSFW-longer story Werewolf x fem!human, werewolf saves her from what could’ve been a fatal fall/accident in the woods or….was that his secret plan all along😏 (stalking, future mate?) I love your writing and leave the rest up to your creative mind🫶

The spiral to insanity happens in a hole

Werewolf x fem!reader || induced heat, knotting, semi-public sex (cave), implied stalking

“Help! Help me!” You cried out.

A head appeared at the top of the hole you fell into. “Hello there, stranger. Seems like you are in a hole,” his words made you want to hit him with a rock. “Do you need some help?” Was this dude for real?

Not wanting to be mean to the stranger that could have your way out of the hole you sighed and told him: “Yes, please.”

He reached inside the hole with his long arm, and you reached up trying to grab it. Before you know what happened there was a big crash and the stranger was next to you in the hole/cave. “How did you fall, too?!” You accused. Now both of you were stuck in the hole. Fuck.

“Oops,” he giggled. He actually giggled. Who was this dude? You glared at him and he rose his hands in a calming motion. “No worries, I work as a keeper in the reserve and called my college when I heard you calling. They’ll come to get us soon enough.” That did calm you, and you sat down on a big rock and stared at him.

He was pretty in a rough way, like a lumberjack. He was big as a wardrobe and looked like he could break a tree if he wanted to. You were kinda okay with that, he looked good. In other circumstances, you would have hit on him. Probably. And well, being completely truthful, you would probably hit on him here, too. Your body was tingling just by looking at him, a strange sensation boiling inside of you.

He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t either. You sat in silence as he paced up and down the little cave and you thought about all the dirty things you would let him do to you. At some point he stopped and looked at you. “We could do something to pass the time.” That made sense, but at that moment you wanted to do anything but to talk. He was handsome, and maybe you wanted to fuck him a little (understatement of the century), but definitely not in a hole in the forest.

“What do you suggest?”

And then he went and deadpanned: “We could make out.” You looked at him trying to decipher if he was being serious.

You were so surprised it took you a couple of seconds to respond. “Are you fucking insane? I don’t know you!” You didn’t want to say no, but it was fucking insane that he was asking you that, you didn’t know each other’s name.

This dude was completely crazy, 100%. You didn’t know how you found yourself in that situation, but there you were. In a hole, in the forest, with a crazy dude who wanted to make out. And what was more surprising: you were okay with that. The idea of making out with him wasn’t as bad as someone could think. You kinda wanted to say yes, but you also knew that was a bad idea.

“Well, we could know each other.” He proceeded to tell you everything that came to mind about himself as you looked at him astonished. Who the fuck was this guy and why did you find him so adorable? He kept talking and talking and his blush became more and more prominent as you stared. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna shut up now.” He went from weird to endearing very fast, your heart beating erratically inside your chest. You were charmed by that big fool.

“You are kind of adorable,” you blurted out. You covered your mouth instantly, you didn’t want that to escape.

“You think so?” He asked back, flushing harder. Cute.

“Yeah. I feel this…. This connection to you. I don’t understand why, I should be scared or anxious about it, but looking at you brings me some kind of calmness. It’s like I already knew you.” And it was true, you felt some kind of deep connection to him, like something inside of you could recognize something inside of him.

“You do?” He sounded so hopeful and excited that you wanted to hug him and kiss the tip of his nose. What was wrong with you? “You a… Well, you see… Youaremymate.”

“I’m what?”

“You are my mate,” he told you, slower this time. At your confused look, he continued, “let me explain. So…. I’m a werewolf.” At your not-impressed look he changed before you. His face contorted and his bones cracked and before you knew it he was a fucking werewolf.

For both of your surprises, you didn’t scream, you didn’t panic, you just stared at him until your brain came back into action. “What the fuck!? How are you even real?!” You must have hit your head when you fell down. That’s it. That’s why the dude in front of you was a werewolf and why he was saying you were his mate. Yep, that’s the reason. He pinched your arm and you slapped his hand. “Why did you do that?”

“You aren’t dreaming. Or hit your head. I’m a werewolf and I’m real.” You stared at him for what felt like an eternity but was probably just a couple seconds. For some reason, you believed him and that made you question your sanity even more.

“You know what? I believe you. My life couldn’t get any messier, but apparently it can.” You laughed at that, hysterically. He looked at you with concern all over his face. “I’m okay, I’m okay…” You repeated as you wiped tears off the corner of your eyes. “I’m just having a bit of a breakdown.” He hugged you then, pulling you against his furry chest and embracing you tightly.

Weirdly enough, it made you calm down. Your breathing evening out to match his and your body relaxing in his arms. “So… do you want to make out?” He asked again, making you chuckle and looking up at him incredulously.

“Are you serious right now?” His kicked puppy face was answer enough. “Of course you are. I- No I don’t- You know what? I do. Let’s make out. If my life is going to get this crazy, I can surrender to it and also be insane.” You felt completely out of control, nothing made sense anymore and why not... Kissing a werewolf didn’t sound like the worst idea in that moment. He was handsome as fuck and he looked even better with all the furriness he had going on. You wanted to kiss him when he was human so… why not? Insanity was as good option as any other.

“You are not insa-” He didn’t finish that thought before you launched for his mouth and started kissing his wolfy face. The fangs against your lips made some deep part of you tingle. The danger and the anticipation making everything so intense you could feel your pussy getting wet. He sniffed the air and groaned against your mouth. “I can smell your desire,” he growled against your ear, breaking the kiss. You groaned in response, feeling hot all over.

You felt like your body was burning from the inside out, like your blood was made of lava and you were about to burn down completely. Your pussy felt so wet and so ready you could feel your heartbeat in your clit. “What is happening to me?” You asked, fanning yourself.

He looked down at you, guilty as fuck. “You started the mating process. You kissed me and now your body is going to react strongly to everything we do. You are going to get really horny, really soon.” You shook was rapidly replaced by a new wave of heat. Fuck. You groaned and kissed him again.

He tore a hole in your pants and ripped your panties, exposing your pussy to his hungry eyes. He stared at your center and slowly circled your clit as he pushed two fingers inside of you. You cried out and came around his fingers.

“More. More. Give me your cock.” You were frantically pulling at his pants, trying to free what felt like a dick bigger than anything you’d experienced before. He got himself free and you gasped when you saw. It was different from humans, larger in every way, but also had a different shape. It was fat in the middle instead of the tip, and there was a big bulge at the base that looked incredibly to grind against. “Now. Now. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” you chanted. Your brain couldn’t understand anything else but the heat burning inside of you and his dick being the solution.

“Are you su-?” He tried to ask, but you weren’t having any of that. You needed to be fucked and you needed it NOW.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I swear to God I’-” He grabbed your hips and lowered you to his dick in a second, his dick fitting inside of you in one long thrust that had you throwing your head back and crying out in ecstasy. It was perfect. His dick was perfect.

He didn’t give you time to adjust to his girth, he started a punishing pace, his hands on your hips as he moved you up and down. You were grateful for that, your legs turned into jelly and you doubted you could do anything to help him right now. His movements were perfect but not enough. You rubbed your clit frantically as he told you how pretty you were, how good you looked and how lucky he was having a mate as beautiful as you.

You came apart in his lap. Once, twice, three times… He wasn’t stopping. He had super stamina or something like that because his dick was hitting all your perfect spots and you were seeing stars as he just kept going. Your pussy felt used, but you wanted more, so much more…

You needed, you needed something… Something. And then you felt it. “What is that?” You asked between groans, your body limp because of the pleasure.

He grunted and moved your hips up and down faster, making you see stars. “My knot. Do you- Do you want that?” You nodded, not knowing what you were getting yourself into, but too lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

It took some work, but he moved your hips against it until it was coated in your juices and it could slip inside. You blacked out for a couple seconds when you felt the extreme fullness inside of you. Your pussy was stretched to the max and it felt better than anything you’ve ever experienced. You felt like you reached nirvana. And then you could feel him coming inside of you, so much, so hot and fast… You were being stuffed, and it felt... marvelous.

You came a couple more time grinding his knot against your G-spot and when you couldn’t take it anymore, you deflated against his front. His knot was still firm inside of you, spurting cum every once in a while. You didn’t care anymore, you could take a nap right there.

“Can I confess something to you?” He broke the silence, his hands caressing your back in a hypnotizing motion.

“Well, it’s not like we can move, can we?” You asked, his knot firmly pressed inside of you. You rolled your hips experimentally and groaned at the sensation. So good.

“I hid the hole so you’d fall into it,” he confessed, hiding his wolfy face in your neck, licking that spot behind your ear that made you shiver. The combination of his knot pressing onto your G-spot and the licking was making your brain foggy with pleasure.

But then his words registered, “Dude, what?!”

[novaursa]

The Wolf's Flame

- Summary: When you take your son flying, Cregan keeps fires warm for your return.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is only daughter of Rhaenyra, has silver hair and violet eyes and is bonded to a dragon. These events happen after Fires That Never Freeze. To read all parts in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @21-princess

Your fingers gently trace the downy softness of Alysane's silver hair, a mirror of your own. Her tiny eyelids flutter as she breathes steadily against your chest, her warmth a comfort in the quiet of the nursery. The light filtering through the windows casts a soft glow, making the strands of her hair shimmer like moonlight on water. She stirs slightly, letting out a small, contented sigh, and you can't help but smile, though it is tinged with sorrow.

You can still vividly recall the first time Jace held your son, Killian. He had been so careful, so reverent, as if the boy was made of the finest glass. 

"He's got your spirit," Jacaerys had said, cradling Killian in his arms with a grin that could have brightened the darkest day. "And a bit of Cregan's stubbornness too, I reckon. He's going to be a strong one."

You remember how his brown eyes had softened, his usual warrior's stoicism giving way to a tenderness that was rare to see in him. You had laughed then, a light, joyful sound that echoed in the stone halls, lifting the spirits of those around you. 

But now, that memory is a dagger to your heart. Jace is gone, another brother taken by the cruel hands of war and treachery. The Battle of the Gullet claimed him, like it claimed so many others, leaving behind only a hollow ache where once there had been warmth and love.

Your grip on Alysane tightens ever so slightly, as if you can protect her from the world that has already taken so much from you. She shifts in her sleep, her tiny fists clenching, and you wonder what kind of life she will have in this world that seems so determined to tear your family apart.

The door creaks open softly, and you glance up to see Cregan standing in the doorway, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts. His presence is a comfort, a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions. He steps into the room, his boots barely making a sound on the cold stone floor.

"She's beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion as he comes to stand beside you. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, a warm, steadying presence. "Just like her mother."

You smile faintly at his words, but it's a fragile thing, easily broken. "She reminds me of Jace," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "The way he looked at Killian… it was as if he could see all the good in the world reflected in him."

Cregan's jaw tightens, and he nods, his eyes darkening with shared grief. "Jacaerys was a good man," he says after a moment, his voice low and filled with respect. "He would have been proud to see how you're raising our children, Y/N. Proud of the mother you've become."

His words are a balm, easing the sting of your loss, even if only slightly. You lean into him, resting your head against his chest, drawing strength from his steady heartbeat. "I just wish he were here to see them grow," you admit, your voice thick with unshed tears. "To see the family we’re building…"

Cregan wraps his arms around you, careful not to disturb Alysane, who remains peacefully asleep in your arms. "We'll make sure they know who he was," he promises, his voice strong and resolute. "We'll tell them stories of their uncle Jace, of his courage, his kindness. He won't be forgotten."

You nod, a tear finally slipping free, tracing a path down your cheek. "I just miss him so much," you confess, the words breaking like waves against the shore.

"I know," Cregan whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

For a long moment, the two of you stand there in the quiet of the nursery, holding each other close, sharing the weight of your grief. Alysane stirs again, and you look down at her, at the peaceful innocence on her tiny face. She is a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest times, life continues, new stories begin.

As you gaze at your daughter, you feel a small spark of determination flicker within you. You will protect her, protect Killian, and ensure they grow up knowing the love and legacy of those who came before them.

"I'll make sure they know," you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. "I'll make sure they remember him."

Cregan nods, his grip on you tightening just slightly, a silent promise that he will stand by you, no matter what. Together, you will keep Jace's memory alive, woven into the very fabric of your children's lives, a legacy of love and courage that even death cannot erase.

The chill of the northern wind bites at your cheeks as you stand in the courtyard of Winterfell, the ancient stones of the castle walls towering around you. The sky above is a pale, wintry blue, the kind that stretches on endlessly, promising the first snows of the season. Thraxata, your beloved dragon, is a dark silhouette against the sky, her massive form casting a shadow over the courtyard as she awaits you with the patient stillness of a creature who knows her place in the world.

Cregan stands nearby, holding Killian in his arms. Your son's violet eyes are wide with excitement, his small hands clutching at the fur-lined collar of his father's cloak. His breath comes in quick, excited puffs, visible in the cold air, as he watches you secure the last of the straps on Thraxata's saddle. 

"Is Mama ready?" Killian asks, his voice high with anticipation, his gaze flicking between you and the towering dragon. 

"Almost, little wolf," Cregan replies, his deep voice softened with affection. He adjusts his hold on Killian, allowing the boy to lean forward slightly, getting a better view of the magnificent creature before him.

You finish tightening the final strap and turn to face them, your heart swelling with love at the sight of your son’s eager face. "She's ready," you confirm, walking over to them with a smile that feels more natural now, more present. The cold air feels invigorating, as does the promise of the flight ahead.

Killian wiggles in Cregan’s arms, his excitement barely contained. "Can we fly now, Mama? Please?"

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and reach out to take him from Cregan, who hands him over with a tender smile. "Of course, we can, little one," you say, holding Killian close for a moment before lifting him up to press a quick kiss to his forehead. "But you must hold on tight, alright? Just like we practiced."

Killian nods eagerly, his little hands gripping your cloak as you turn to face Cregan. Your husband’s grey eyes are filled with warmth, the kind that always makes you feel grounded, no matter how high you fly. He steps closer, wrapping an arm around your waist as he bends down to press a kiss to your lips, a slow, lingering gesture that speaks of love and longing. 

"Fly safe," he murmurs against your lips, his breath warm in the cold air. "And bring him back to me in one piece."

You smile against his mouth, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "Always," you promise, your voice soft but filled with the certainty that comes from years of shared battles and shared love. "We'll be back before the sun sets."

With a final kiss, you turn back to Thraxata, your heart thudding with a mix of excitement and the familiar rush of anticipation that always accompanies a flight. You cradle Killian with one arm as you approach the great beast, who lowers her massive head in greeting, her violet eyes shimmering with intelligence and recognition. 

“Hello girl,” you whisper, your free hand brushing against her polished obsidian scales, which glimmer faintly with hues of violet and blue in the sunlight. Thraxata rumbles in response, a sound that vibrates through the ground beneath your feet, as if she’s sharing in the excitement of the day.

With practiced ease, you swing yourself up onto the saddle, positioning Killian in front of you. His small hands reach out instinctively to grasp the pommel, and you secure him with a careful, reassuring grip. He giggles with delight as he feels the warmth of Thraxata’s body beneath him, the thrill of the impending flight already bubbling over.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice a blend of both motherly concern and the thrill of the adventure ahead.

“Ready!” Killian exclaims, his voice filled with a joy so pure it sends a spark of warmth through you, despite the cold.

With one last glance at Cregan, who watches you with that same steady look, you give Thraxata the command to take flight. The dragon responds immediately, her powerful wings unfurling with a sound like thunder. She launches into the air, her great body rising smoothly from the ground as the wind rushes past you, carrying the scent of pine and snow.

The world below falls away quickly as Thraxata soars upward, the chill of the wind tugging at your hair and cloak, but the cold is nothing compared to the exhilaration of the sky opening up before you. Killian’s laughter rings out, a bright, joyous sound that echoes across the open sky. He turns his head back to you, eyes wide with pure wonder. “Mama, we’re flying! Look, we’re really flying!”

You tighten your grip on him, feeling the steady thrum of Thraxata’s heart beneath you, the power of her wings carrying you higher, above the walls of Winterfell and the endless expanse of the North. “Yes, we are,” you say, your voice filled with the same awe you see reflected in your son’s eyes. “Just like I did with my mother when I was your age.”

The dragon’s flight is smooth, a testament to the bond you’ve shared since her hatching in your cradle. She’s been with you through every trial, every loss, and every victory. Now, she carries your son just as faithfully, as if she understands that he is a part of you, a continuation of your legacy.

As Winterfell grows smaller beneath you, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. Up here, with the sky stretching out infinitely above and the world below far removed, it’s easy to forget the weight of your grief, the loss of Jace, the uncertainty of the future. Up here, there is only the sound of the wind, the warmth of your son in your arms, and the steady, powerful beat of Thraxata’s wings.

You glance down at Killian, whose eyes are now glued to the horizon, a look of pure wonder on his face. “What do you see, little one?” you ask, curious to hear his thoughts.

“Everything, Mama,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe. “I can see everything.”

You smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “Then let’s see where the wind takes us, my brave little dragon rider.”

As Thraxata glides effortlessly through the sky, you let yourself enjoy the moment, the rare freedom it offers, the bond between mother and child, between rider and dragon. And for a time, as the cold wind whips past and the world falls away beneath you, you are simply Y/N Velaryon, a daughter of House Targaryen, a mother, a wife, and a rider of dragons. The rest of the world can wait until your feet are back on solid ground.

Cregan Stark watches as Thraxata’s obsidian-black form rises higher into the sky, the great dragon’s wings beating with a rhythm that reverberates in his chest. He stands in the courtyard of Winterfell, eyes locked on the shrinking figures of his wife and son as they ascend into the endless blue, until they become little more than a speck against the pale sky. The wind whips through the courtyard, carrying with it the scent of pine and the distant promise of snow, but Cregan remains still, his gaze unwavering as long as they are visible.

There’s a sense of awe and pride that fills him every time he watches Y/N with her dragon. Even after years of seeing her soar above the battlements, it never fails to stir something deep within him. She is a true daughter of the Targaryen line, a force of nature bound to the skies, and it amazes him that she is his—his wife, the mother of his children.

As Thraxata and his family disappear from sight, he finally lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, a mix of contentment and longing. He knows she’ll be back before long, but there’s always that small pang of separation, as if part of him takes flight with her every time she ascends into the heavens.

With a final glance at the now empty sky, Cregan turns and heads back toward the Great Keep. The stone walls of Winterfell rise imposingly around him, offering a stark contrast to the boundless sky from which he has just watched his wife and son disappear. The weight of his responsibilities returns to him with each step, grounding him in the reality of the world below.

As he enters the Great Hall, the warmth of the hearth fires greets him, a welcome change from the crisp air outside. The hall is quiet this time of day, the usual bustle of Winterfell subdued, with most of the household attending to their duties. He makes his way down the familiar corridors, his boots echoing softly on the stone floors, until he reaches the chamber where his daughter, Alysane, is being tended to.

The door is slightly ajar, and as he steps inside, he is greeted by the sight of a nursemaid cradling the infant in her arms. Alysane is awake, her bright violet eyes—so much like her mother’s—tracking the nursemaid’s movements with the curious intensity only a baby can muster. The soft, cooing lullaby being sung to her halts as the nursemaid notices Cregan’s entrance.

“Lord Stark,” she says with a respectful dip of her head, adjusting her hold on the child. “The little lady has been a delight today, though I daresay she misses her mother already.”

Cregan crosses the room in a few long strides, his gaze softening as he looks down at his daughter. “She’ll have her back soon enough,” he replies, his voice a low rumble of reassurance. “Let me hold her.”

The nursemaid carefully transfers Alysane into his arms, and Cregan feels the familiar, grounding weight of his daughter settle against his chest. She’s so small, so delicate, and yet she has a strength in her grip that makes him smile every time she reaches out to grasp his fingers. Alysane’s eyes, so much like Y/N’s, meet his, and he can’t help the rush of love that fills him.

“Have you been good for the nursemaid, little one?” he asks, his tone lighter, more playful as he gently rocks her. Alysane coos in response, her tiny fists waving in the air as if to say, Yes, Papa, I’ve been very good.

“She’s taken to her feeding well, my lord,” the nursemaid informs him, a smile tugging at her lips as she watches the interaction. “And she seems to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Perhaps she takes after her mother in that regard.”

Cregan chuckles softly, nodding. “She has the blood of the dragon in her, no doubt. But she’s a Stark, too. She’ll grow to love these cold winds, just as we do.”

He spends a few more moments with his daughter, savoring the simple joy of holding her, of feeling her small heartbeat against his chest. It’s a different kind of peace than what he feels when he’s with Y/N, but no less profound. Alysane is a part of them both, a perfect blend of fire and ice, and he treasures these quiet moments with her.

After a while, he gently hands Alysane back to the nursemaid, who resumes her gentle rocking and humming. “Thank you,” he says, his voice warm with gratitude. “Keep her close to the fire. The day will grow colder before it ends.”

The nursemaid nods. “As you wish, my lord.”

Cregan leaves the chamber, his thoughts now turning to the evening ahead. The wind outside has picked up, and he knows Y/N and Killian will appreciate a warm welcome when they return. He heads toward the Great Hall once more, this time with purpose in his stride. The fires need to be tended, more wood brought in, and the hearths stoked to a roaring blaze. Winterfell might be a cold, unforgiving place at times, but it was also a home—a sanctuary for his family—and he would see to it that they returned to warmth and comfort.

As he reaches the Great Hall, he calls out to a nearby servant, a young man quick on his feet. “We’ll need more wood for the hearths,” Cregan instructs, his tone commanding but not unkind. “Bring in what you can carry and see to it that the fires are stoked high.”

The servant nods eagerly, hurrying off to fulfill the request. Cregan moves to the main hearth himself, where the fire is already burning but not nearly to the level he desires. He takes up a heavy iron poker and stirs the embers, watching as the flames leap higher, their glow reflecting off the stone walls. 

As the fire roars to life, filling the hall with a warm, golden light, he steps back, satisfied with his work. The crackling of the flames, the scent of burning wood, and the comforting heat are all reminders of why he fights, why he endures. It’s for these moments—for the quiet, peaceful evenings after the storms have passed, when his family is safe and together under one roof.

He can almost hear Killian’s excited laughter already, the way his little boy’s voice fills the hall with joy whenever they return from a flight. He imagines Y/N’s smile, the way it lights up her entire face, and how her silver hair catches the firelight as she steps inside, Killian in tow, both of them flushed from the cold and the exhilaration of the sky.

The servant returns with an armful of wood, and Cregan helps him stack it near the hearth. The warmth is already spreading through the hall, driving away the chill that had begun to settle as the day waned. He can feel the sense of home building around him, the very thing he’s fought to protect, to preserve for those he loves most.

With the fires now blazing, he takes a moment to himself, standing in the center of the hall and letting the warmth seep into his bones. It’s a simple pleasure, but one he doesn’t take for granted. The flickering light of the flames plays across his face, casting shadows that dance along the stone walls. 

He glances toward the door, knowing it will soon swing open, admitting his wife and son back into the safety and warmth of Winterfell. He’s ready to greet them, to hear about their flight, to listen to Killian’s breathless recounting of the view from above and to feel the reassurance of Y/N’s presence beside him.

As he waits, the fire crackling at his back, Cregan Stark feels a deep sense of contentment. There’s a storm coming, as there always is in the North, but for now, his world is warm, his heart full, and his family is safe. And that is all he could ever ask for.

The warmth of the fire mingles with the lingering heat of your bodies, still flush from the passion that had just consumed you both. You lie nestled in the soft, thick furs of your bed, the heavy pelts providing a cocoon of warmth against the biting cold that lurks just beyond the walls of Winterfell.

Cregan's strong arm is draped around you, his hand tracing lazy, soothing patterns on your bare back. Your head rests on his broad chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he takes. The intimacy of the moment is profound, the kind of peace that only comes after such intensity, when every barrier has been stripped away, leaving only raw, unfiltered affection in its wake.

His fingers slide through your silver hair, untangling the strands that had become tousled during your lovemaking, and you feel a contented sigh escape your lips. The connection between you is tangible, a bond forged not only in love but in shared trials, in the promises whispered in the dark and the strength you find in one another.

"Sometimes," you begin softly, your voice barely more than a murmur in the quiet of the room, "sometimes I wish I could be down there, in the thick of it, fighting alongside my mother. Facing the Greens with fire and blood, like we were meant to."

Cregan’s hand stills on your back for a moment before he resumes his gentle caresses. He knows how deeply the conflict weighs on you, how much you struggle with the separation from your mother and the battles you were born to fight. "You’re a warrior at heart, Y/N," he says, his voice low and full of understanding. "It’s in your blood, in your very soul. But you’re here now, and there’s strength in that too—in being the heart of this family, in raising our children with the knowledge of who they are and where they come from."

You nod against his chest, taking comfort in his words. It’s not easy to be away from the fight, to know that your family is out there, risking their lives while you remain here, safe in the North. But Cregan is right—there is strength in what you’re doing here, in the life you’ve built together, in the legacy you’re creating.

"I know," you whisper, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his chest, right above his heart. "I know. But I’m grateful, Cregan. For this, for you, for everything we’ve found here in Winterfell. It’s more than I ever imagined for myself."

He shifts slightly, turning so that he can look down at you, his grey eyes dark and intense as they meet yours. There’s a tenderness there, a love so deep it nearly takes your breath away. "You’ve brought light to this place, Y/N," he says, his voice filled with conviction. "You’ve made it a home, not just for me, but for everyone within these walls. You are the heart of Winterfell now, just as much as you were born both of Dragonstone and Driftmark. And I will always be grateful for that, for you."

You smile up at him, a warmth blooming in your chest that has nothing to do with the fire. "And I, for you, my love," you reply softly, lifting your hand to trace the strong line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard beneath your fingers. "I never thought I could find such peace, such happiness, in a place so far from the warmth of the South. But here with you, it feels like I’ve found something even better. Something that feels like home."

He leans down to capture your lips in a slow, lingering kiss, one that speaks of love and promises, of the future you’ll face together. When he pulls back, his gaze is serious, his expression thoughtful. "Winter will come soon," he says, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "The snow will fall heavier, and the North will sleep beneath its blanket of white. But when the spring sun melts the snow, when the rivers flow again and the ice recedes, the North will rise. And we will march south, to deliver the justice that has long been owed. Just as I promised you, Y/N. The time will come."

You see the resolve in his eyes, the fire of his conviction, and it stirs something within you—a spark of hope, of purpose. You’ve always known that the North was a place of endurance, of long winters and even longer memories. But with Cregan by your side, you also know it is a place of honor, of loyalty, and of promises kept.

"And I will be ready," you say, your voice firm with determination. "We will be ready. For whatever comes."

He nods, the tension in his expression easing as he presses another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to seal the promise between you. "But for now," he murmurs against your skin, "we have this. These moments, this peace. And we will hold on to it for as long as we can."

You close your eyes, letting his warmth and the steady beat of his heart lull you into a state of calm. The world outside can wait for now—the battles, the struggles, the uncertainties of the future. Here, wrapped in Cregan’s arms, you find solace, a reprieve from the weight of the world, and the strength to face whatever comes next.

As you drift off to sleep, cocooned in the warmth of the furs and the security of Cregan’s embrace, you feel a deep sense of contentment settle over you. The future may hold its challenges, but in this moment, all is well. You are together, and that is all that matters.

[missnxthingg]

I CAN'T LIE TO YOU ✮ LN4

pairing: Lando Norris x bestie!Reader (childhood best friends to lovers) summary: Lando Norris decides to surprise his best friend after being a long time away from home. What she didn't expect was that he had a big secret that he couldn't share with her words: 4.5K - warnings: swearing, suggestive content & not proof read author's notes: I'm back once again! Now you just know I'm a sucker for childhood besties to lovers. Also, I may have already started writing a part two for this one... let me know if you want it!

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The days in England have become more boring with time. Y/N was losing her mind over the repetitive routine that follows the life of a college student. Work, study, beer with close friends and bed. So when her mother invited her for a family dinner, she worried about how excited she got with the event. It wasn’t supposed to be anything special, just her parents and a few of their close friends gathered to catch up over nice food. 

Coming home felt way too good. It’s a feeling most college students get when they go back to their hometown, leaving their crappy flat in university to be served with their parents pampering during their quick visit. Y/N was supposed to be back to her place in just a couple of days, but she felt satisfied to be in a different place than the four walls of her house. Not to mention that she was having a good laugh with everyone at the table.

Her mother always takes dinner parties to another level, serving the best food in her special crockery, saved for moments like this. So Y/N packed a nice new outfit; a cute long-sleeved dress that looked perfect with tights and heels. Not that the guests cared about how she was dressed, but it felt nice to look beautiful and all put together for once after months of hoodies and leggings.

As usual, her parents invited the Norris family, as they’ve been the best of friends for the longest time. Not only they lived next to each other for years back when she was younger, all of their kids were really close friends with Y/N. But the spotlight always goes to Lando, who is the same age as her, making them grow up attached to the hip.

They all grew up going to the same school, not to mention that she would always tag along in Lando and his brother’s karting sessions, having the best time watching them drive flawlessly on tracks. He always enjoyed the times when she’d steal her parents cameras so they could make some homemade videos of their time together. Or when they would sit back, watch their dads play golf every Saturday and share candies in the cart. 

  Y/N and Lando have been inseparable since the age of four, growing up side by side, going through everything together. She was so important to him that, when he joined Formula 1 and had to choose a number to race, he chose the age the two of them had become friends. 

“The number four is for my best friend, Y/N. She was the one to suggest it, and the meaning behind it is very cute. Actually, I don’t want to tell you to not spoil anything, but I can only say that it’s very dear to my heart”, Lando said once in an interview during his second season in F1, making every single one of his fans curious about the meaning.

But it’s been a while since the infamous duo had been together. They supported each other from afar; Y/N sometimes joining him for race weekends and Lando coming back to see her on birthdays and weekends in London, while he visited the McLaren factory. But the last time they had been together was four months ago, during summer break, when he dragged her to join him for his crazy trips around the world. When racing and university was back on, they lost a little bit of touch; almost no calls and only a few texting breaks so they wouldn’t fall apart.

A lot happened in those four months. Lando had a new gorgeous girlfriend; a model who everyone had become obsessed with her TikTok videos for beauty tips. They had been seen together a few times around the world, her joining him for the races and a lot of make-outs behind DJ booths at parties. Y/N, on the other hand, was lacking in the dating department. But the friends she made over the past year made everything worthy. After years of pretty much having Lando as her only very close friend, she finally found new people to go out and have fun as a normal 20-year-old.

With that, Y/N and Lando’s friendship got weird. He had been avoiding her for a while, with the excuse of being too busy with racing, but actually not wanting to talk about his personal life with someone who knew him like the palm of her hand. Meanwhile, she was having a good time with her friends to be bothered by anything. But lately, life had become more boring and Y/N felt like having Lando back would bring some more fun into her life again, with all the epic parties and the good times they always managed to happen.

“Only one month left”, she thought, as winter break was approaching, meaning that Lando would finally be free to come home for the holidays.

She was pushed out of her thoughts by Adam Norris, who now seemed interest in Y/N’s life after a long catching up with her dad. “Tell us more about college! Are you having fun? Learning anything special?”, he asked with a kind smile.

“Oh, I’m graduating this spring, so it’s been… rough”, she chuckled. “But everything has been amazing, you know? The internship is so cool and the people are nice as well”.

“I just can’t believe it will all be over soon”, his wife, Cisca, responded. “It feels like it was just yesterday when you joined uni and Lando started his first season in F1. Time really flies, uhm?”

Every mention of his name made Y/N smile like a fool. But lately, it has been accompanied by a ting of pain on her chest. God, she missed him so much.

“What is it that you miss?”, Cisca asked, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. Shit, did she say that out loud?

“I said I missed your pie so much, Cis. You know I have always loved it growing up”, Y/N tried to cover it up by stuffing her mouth with the cheesy pie, trying to keep her thoughts of being spoken out loud. But something caught her by surprise.

“Yeah, mum’s pie is the best in the world, isn’t it?”, a male voice said from behind her, one that she hadn’t heard in person for a while. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, only to turn around and see Lando standing right behind her tugged into his signature comfortable hoodie, with a giant smile plastered on his face, and a bouquet in his hands. “Surprise!”

Y/N brought her hands up to her mouth, trying not to cry at the sight. She couldn’t believe what was standing in front of her. So she jumped out of her seat and jumped into his arms, not caring about anyone else in the room or the flowers being crumpled up in his hands. Lando buried his nose in her hair, taking in her scent, making him feel at ease for once

“What are you doing here?”, she leaned back, holding his face between her hands. His soft eyes looked down at her, his smile never faltering.

“I thought I could surprise my best girl”, he admitted, digging one of his hands into her hips, making her securely close to him. “I had a break before the end of the season, and it had been so long…”

“Shut up, you idiot. I just want to hug you”, she cut him mid-sentence, burying her face in his neck, making his smile even wider, if that was possible. Everyone on the table laughed at her reaction, but let them have their moment after months without seeing each other. It felt too good to be true. 

“I missed you so much”, he whispered in her ear, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head.

“I missed you too. Welcome home, Lan”, she leaned back and kissed his cheek, making it tinted red. Lando was so cute when he blushed. “You brought me flowers! How cute is this?”

She took the giant bouquet filled with red and pink roses out of his hands, bringing it close to her body. “It’s an apology for not being here as much as I should”, he said, making her heart so warm with the thoughtful gift.

“You being here is enough”, she pressed another kiss to his cheek and quickly pulled him for another hug. They just couldn’t get enough of each other.

“Alright, we all know you both really miss each other, but you can catch up after dinner. Food is getting cold and poor Lando must be starving”, her mother cut them off, making Y/N look back at the table, her face burning in embarrassment. He laughed at her behavior and pulled the chair next to her so they could sit together.

Through the whole dinner, Lando told all of his amazing stories traveling the world, leaving all the ‘best friends only’ parts for later, when he would be alone with Y/N. She felt so happy to finally have him by her side, making fun of her table manners, resting his hand on her knee and cracking any bad jokes just to see her roll her eyes. And even though he lived those many adventures, Lando knew life couldn’t get better than having his favourite person in the world back on his side.

“So, Lando, what finally brings you back home?”, Y/N’s father asked, making him shrug.

“You know, the championship could’ve been better and I feel really tired, you know?”, Lando searched for his best friend’s hand under the table, entwining their fingers once they met. Then he looked at her with an adoring smile on his face. “I just need some recharging. Thought I could use some home time before the last few races of the year”.

“You’re always welcomed to recharge in our house if you want to, Lando”, her mother said before the conversation was taken somewhere else once again.

While everyone else chatted, Y/N and Lando updated their phone gallery with new pictures of them. A lot of cute selfies and pictures of their homemade dinner which soon found their place on their Instagrams.

y/username

liked by landonorris and 3,419 others

y/username: always feels good to have my best friend back in the house

tagged: landonorris

landonorris Besties reunited LFG!

↪ y/username you’re such a bore

fanacc1 FINALLY SOME Y/N AND LANDO CONTENT

fanacc2 Wasn’t him dating a model?

↪fanacc3 He is, but Y/N is his childhood best friend

fanacc4 ugh, if i was his gf, i would be so jealous of them together

↪fanacc5 I bet his girlfriend actually hates them

fanacc6 Does this mean more Y/N around the paddock?

The dinner was coming to an end with the delicious sweet treats they prepared for dessert. At that point, Lando and Y/N were just existing at the conversation. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and she found a comfortable spot to lean into him and keep sipping on her wine while they shared a slice of cake. But even though they were quiet, they surely weren’t tired. So as the rest of the adults continued with their chat, they took their glasses of wine to the backyard, just so they could have some alone time.

Lando chuckled when he saw what was still standing strong in her backyard. “You still have our old treehouse?”, he asked and she nodded excitedly. “Wow, it looks so much nicer than before”.

“It’s because I renovated it, you fool. Haven’t I told you?”, she asked, but Lando shook his head. “Oh my… you have to see this! Now it’s a grown up treehouse! Take a look”.

Y/N dragged him to the small construction and made him climb all the way up to the house. It changed a lot with the renovations. Their wall doodles from when they were little kids were preserved by a varnish coat on the wood. She also substituted the old toys for books and her collection of vinyls, making the place look extra cozy. There was even a table for afternoon tea and card games, a TV and a huge futon, with lots of cushions, so they could just lie down and spend the rest of the day hidden from the world.

“What a glow up!”, he joked. “I loved it. This is amazing”, Lando took a place next to the window, where the moonlight invaded the room. Y/N sat next to him and almost immediately pulled out her camera just to capture the moment. And just like old times, they had fun doing a tiny photoshoot together, only to be cut off by his mom, calling them from the ground.

“Are you coming, Lando?”, Cisca asked, making him look over to Y/N, who replied for him.

“I’m not letting him go anywhere, Cisca”, she joked, throwing her arms around Lando, making his mother laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your son”.

“Have fun you two”, they waved at her and sighed after finally being left alone for a proper catching up between best friends. Lando had a satisfied smile on his face and he felt so calm at that moment. He threw both of his arms around his best friend and hugged her tightly.

“Home, at last”, his cheek was pressed on the side of her face, making her giggle with the contact. “I want to know everything going on with you. Just blurt it all out. I owe you this”.

“Oh, nothing great happened”, she shrugged. “Nothing that you didn’t know already. The internship is nice, but it’s coming to an end soon and I’m not sure they’ll keep me with them. And college is almost finished, so that’s kind of bittersweet”.

“I thought you were excited to have a degree”, he said, making her sigh. “Are you not happy about graduating?”

“Of course I am. You more than anyone knows how important this is to me”, she answered. “And I made so many good friends and I’ve been having the best time with them. I know graduating will make us grow apart”.

“Endings aren’t always nice, uhm? But you have to look at the bright side of things”, he started. “You’re finally achieving something great and you managed to have a really good time along the way. Made friends and worked really hard to become the best professional out there. I’m so proud of you!”

Lando has always been her biggest supporter on pursuing her academic path. He remembers all the talks they had about her wanting to master in communications. While he didn’t get to finish school to up his game in racing, he was there for every step his best friend took until enrolling in university. So when they talk about it, he always has that beautiful proud smile on his face, to which Y/N loved seeing.

“Thank you”, she smiled shyly. “And what about you, Mr Worldwide? You’ve been everywhere these past months. How was it?”

“Oh, always amazing”, he beamed. “I got to see so many amazing places around the world. You would’ve loved all the clubs I went to. The DJ booths are amazing. Oh, and the golf courts… breathtaking”.

“Yeah, I saw all the pictures”, Y/N arched her brows and rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even bother on calling, telling me about your adventures”.

“Sorry, I lacked in that department”, he apologized. “Even though everything has been amazing, I’m so tired of this year. I could’ve done better on the track and the last few races have been exhausting. I knew that I needed to recharge before the last two races, so I came back to you”.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you home”, she ran her hand through his curls and smiled. Lando always saw Y/N as his home. She always brings him that sense of familiarity, and her absence in his travels around the world were taking a toll on him.

Not to mention that hiding a big secret from his best friend also wasn’t doing him any good.

“But I’m not here to talk about me. I want to know everything about you”, he poked her side with his index finger and smirked. “Anyone special appeared in your life in the past few months?”

“Please”, she rolled her eyes. “The last time I had a proper hook up was during our summer trip to Bali with that guy on the club”.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad”, he giggled, but Y/N’s face was burning in embarrassment.

“I had a few dates in the past months, but fuck me, they were annoying”, Lando laughed at her statement. “One of them found out you’re my best friend and spent the entire time asking questions about you. And the only guy who was actually decent came in his pants when we were making out in his car. Didn’t even get to touch me”. 

“Oh, poor you”, he giggled. “So no boy to be my new best friend? I mean, come on, we need more male energy in this friendship”.

“Sorry, Lan. No boyfriend this time”, she said. “You, on the other hand, started dating this gorgeous model and forgot to tell me about everything.”

And there she said it: the topic Lando had been avoiding the most throughout the whole night. He really didn’t want to talk about it with Y/N, because his big secret had been hiding right there. He knew he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, lie about anything to her. And he also knew that he really needed to vent about this secret with her as well.

Lando turned really quiet, and looked away, avoiding her eyes. “Don’t start now, Y/N. I mean, there’s not much to say, to be fair”, he mumbled.

“Come on, I want to know everything about the woman who stole my bestie’s heart”, she poked him, but Lando didn’t dare to look Y/N in the eyes. “I mean, everybody loves her and she seems sweet. Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”

“Because we’re not together”.

“What do you mean? I’ve seen the Instagram pictures and the gossip pages posting videos of you two kissing in the club. I thought you were becoming a thing”.

“Y/N, don’t push it”, he asked, his voice bargaining on his throat.

“Why don’t you want to tell me about her?”

“Because we’re not together, I told you”, he sighed. “She’s a PR stunt. She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s been consuming me from the inside ever since we started this little thing”.

Lando finally looked her in the eyes and Y/N saw them brimming with tears. As an immediate response, she rested a hand on his arm and waited until he was ready to talk more. He leaned into her touch and the tears started to stream down his face. He’s never one to cry for anything, so the tears meant that it was so much more than he was letting show. Her heart broke at the sight of her best friend.

“Is this why you look more tired than usual?”, Y/N asked and he nodded, making the tears fall harder. “Oh, Lan… Come here”.

She pulled his head to rest on her chest and Lando wrapped his arms around her, needing some sort of comfort. He didn’t say much for a couple of minutes after, feeling his heart aching on his chest. He wanted to talk about everything with Y/N, because he knew she would understand him. He always feels vulnerable and safe enough to talk about anything with his best friend. 

“Everything is so fucked up, Y/N��, Lando cried out. “God, I can’t take this fake relationship anymore. Do you know how disgusting it feels to pretend to be in love with someone you’re not? And to lie to everyone, hiding it from my parents. From you. I can’t stand it”

“I’m sure you have a good reason to be doing so”, she said, fingers running through his curls and making him sure that she was right there with him. Y/N felt his fingers clinging tighter onto her. “You’re just doing your job and that’s okay. This won’t last forever”.

“I feel so lonely, you know? I was doing so bad on the last few races and I missed home so much. I missed talking to my dad and hugging my mom. I missed making fun of my sisters and going for a drive with my brother. And I missed you so much. I wish I could just stay here for a long while”.

“Soon you’ll get to be here for as long as you want, baby”, Y/N pressed a kiss on top of his head and Lando sighed in comfort. It ached a little less with her there. “And we’ll get to spend so much time together. You can come over and we’ll have sleepovers. We can take the car, drive around and go clubbing until sunrise. Whatever you want”.

“God, it would be so easy if it was you”, he whispered, still holding onto her as if his life depended on it. What did he mean with that? Just those single words made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. Truth is, while her heart ached for her best friend, she was relieved he’s not in love with someone else. Did he have feelings for her? 

“You know, I looked over my so-called girlfriend one night while we were hanging out at the club and I wanted to shout to everyone that it was all an act. She’s like a solid reminder of how lonely I am all the damn time. It’s ridiculous”, he grunted. 

“Come on, look at me”, Y/N pulled his face to look up and held his head between her hands. “Lan, you are never alone, okay? Even if you feel like you are, and even if I’m not there physically, you know that I’m always with you. I’m right here”, she rested a hand over his heart, making him smile through his tears. “I've been in your heart since the moment we met”.

“I…”, he started, but couldn’t get to say the rest. After all this time, Lando was afraid that the next move would ruin their friendship forever. But looking her in the eyes, comforting him through this rough time, he knew she felt the same. “I love you, Y/N”.

She was expecting anything. ‘I know’, maybe. That was so much bigger than what she imagined. Lando had said he loved her countless times over the years they’ve known each other; after all, they grew up together, almost like brother and sister. But this time, it was different. Y/N knew it, and Lando knew it too.

Y/N was too stunned to speak, so he continued with his confession. “I always have, you know? And I only hid everything from you because I can’t lie to you. And because I thought you’d never look at me the same way if you found out”.

“Lando, I…” she stopped mid-sentence, trying to catch some air. “Fuck, this is a lot. Just wait a second”.

They giggled together and he leaned his forehead against hers. “It’s okay to not say anything right now. I just dropped a giant bomb on your lap. This wasn’t the way I wanted to confess to you, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore”.

“Are you saying this because you’re emotional? Because I swear to God, if you are, I’m gonna kill you for misleading me”, her eyes were brimming with tears and Lando whipped them away.

“I’m telling you the truth”, he assured. “I think I’ve loved you my entire life. With all the crazy things I’ve experienced in my life, you were the only constant. You’re home, Y/N”.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”, she asked and he took a deep breath.

“Because I was afraid of losing you. Scared this might ruin our friendship somehow”, he admitted. “You’re the most precious thing in my life. Do you know how scary it is to fall in love with your best friend when you’re just a kid? And then grow up, and those feelings never go away, just getting stronger every day. I just didn’t want to lose you”.

“You weren’t going to lose me, Lan”, her eyes softened at his confession and now he was the one wiping her tears. Y/N brought him back for a hug and even though he didn’t have an answer, deep down he knew she felt the same.

“I’ve loved you since we were four. There’s a reason why I always carry this number with me”, Lando confessed. “God, look what you do to me. I never cry”.

“You only cry for the important things”, she reminded. “That’s why I love you, Lando. I’ve been in love with you for my entire life too, idiot”.

His eyes widened as he looked up to her, who had a smirk plastered on her face. “Can I kiss you?”, Lando asked, but before she could properly shake her head in agreement, he crashed his lips into hers. He needed to be home, and Y/N has always been home for him. It was the most intense kiss they ever had, like years of lingering had finally paid off for both of them.

Lando pulled her closer with a hand on the back of her head. She wrapped her fingers around his neck, smiling into his lips. Then, as if it wasn't enough, he pulled her to sit on lap, making them closer somehow. She slowed down the pace, making the kiss needier and more delicious. Lando even let out a satisfied throaty moan, his heart speeding on his chest. Her touches made him feral, knowing that after years of pinning, he finally had his dream girl.

“Thank you for this”, he whispered against her lips, a wide and satisfied smile on his face. “Thank you for all the years, all the times you've been here for me, to tell me everything is going to be alright.”

“Always, Lan”, she played with the hairs on his nape. “I love you so much”.

“I love you too. So much”, he left one more peck on her lips before hugging her again. “I don't know what I'd do without you”.

“Yeah, me too”.

The story of how they fell in love with each other was long, but beautiful. Lando and Y/N sat in that tree house all night and shared all of those stories with each other. And for a second, he really believed everything was going to work out. After all, if he had Y/N, Lando would be just fine.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

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[yourmidnightlover]

the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

-

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

-

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."

[moonselune]

Based off events happening to me today:

Tav feeling super anxious for no reason and spiralling and they don't know why and their partner trying to help?

Please

Aw bless, i know this was sent a while ago but I hope things are okay xox

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The night was still, the kind of deep silence that should have felt soothing, wrapped in Karlach’s warmth and the safety of her arms. But tonight, the silence pressed on you, heavy and smothering, like a dark tide rising in your chest. Karlach had already drifted off beside you, one arm draped protectively across you as if even in sleep she wanted to keep you close, shield you.

You tried to breathe through it, tried to focus on the feeling of her arm, the softness of her skin against yours. But each inhale grew tighter, your chest clenching, until it felt like your lungs were refusing to open. Heart pounding, you clenched the sheets in your fists, trembling, as the world around you blurred and closed in, warping until you couldn’t tell up from down, awake from dreaming.

The sound of your labored breaths must have pulled Karlach from her sleep, because her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep until they landed on you and filled with immediate concern.

“Hey…hey, babe, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice low and soothing, though you could hear the edge of worry she tried to mask. Her hand, warm and steady, came up to your cheek, thumb brushing along your skin. “You’re shaking, love—talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You tried to speak, to respond with something reassuring, anything that would tell her you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The walls felt like they were closing in, your vision tunneling, and you couldn’t look away from Karlach, from her face. She was here, with you, yet you felt like you were slipping away.

Karlach’s brows knitted together, her own chest tightening with helplessness. She’d faced countless enemies, survived the hellscape of Avernus, and yet here—watching you crumble in front of her—she didn’t know what to do. Her hand moved to clasp yours, fingers intertwining tightly as though she could anchor you back to reality.

“Listen to me,” she said, her voice firmer now, taking on the same tone she’d use in battle, one she knew you trusted. “Breathe with me, okay? Just…try to match my breath. In and out. You’ve got this.”

You tried, focusing on her, on the gentle rhythm of her breathing, but it felt like you were trapped in a storm, and the calm Karlach offered was just out of reach. She watched you, distress clear in her expression as she realized her words weren’t getting through, and the soft crackle of her engine, the familiar hum, only made the quiet around you seem louder.

“Dammit,” she whispered, voice wavering. “I’m here, alright? Whatever’s got you like this, I’m right here.” She pulled you closer, wrapping her arms tightly around you, burying her face into your hair as if she could absorb some of the weight pressing down on you. “You’re safe. I swear it. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Not if I’m here.”

Her presence, so solid and unyielding, cut through the fear just enough to let you take a shuddering breath, her warmth seeping into you like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Her fingers traced comforting circles against your back, and she murmured soft, nonsensical reassurances, the kind of quiet comforts she’d never shared with anyone before you.

“You don’t have to talk,” she whispered, though the waver in her voice told you she desperately wished she knew what was happening in your mind. “Just…squeeze my hand, okay? Let me know you’re still here with me.”

With a shaky breath, you did, your fingers trembling but firm enough as you held onto her. Her eyes softened, filling with relief as she gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return.

“You’re not alone in this,” she continued, her voice barely above a murmur. “Whatever’s in your head… I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words, grounding and soothing, began to penetrate through the fog of your mind, the relentless weight lifting bit by bit. Karlach pressed her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your face as she matched her breathing to yours, syncing your uneven gasps with her steady inhales. Each breath felt a little easier, her warmth and steady presence like an anchor pulling you back from the depths.

Minutes passed, and gradually, the panic ebbed, the tightness in your chest loosening as you took in her scent, the comfort of her closeness. She stayed with you, patient and unwavering, until you felt the storm inside finally begin to calm.

When you looked up at her, her eyes were full of worry, tinged with guilt as though she could’ve done more.

“Are you…feeling any better?” she asked, brushing a hand through your hair, voice gentle. You nodded, squeezing her hand as you gave her a shaky smile, trying to reassure her.

“Thank you, Karlach,” you whispered, your voice still unsteady. “I…don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled, though there was a vulnerability in her gaze, the depth of her worry for you still lingering. “You don’t have to know,” she said softly, pulling you close again. “Because I’m always going to be here.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The anxiety came on suddenly, like a wave crashing over you, quick and relentless, stealing the air from your lungs. Your thoughts spun out of control, a tangled mess of doubts, worries, and fears, each one feeding off the last, building into something you couldn’t escape. You felt trapped inside your own head, barely aware of your surroundings, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Your hands shook as you gripped the edge of the table, fighting to anchor yourself to something solid.

Minthara had been beside you moments before, going over plans for the night’s camp watch, her calm, steely focus grounding in its own way. But as she turned back to you, her face changed. The sharpness in her gaze softened ever so slightly, concern bleeding through the cracks of her usual impassive mask.

“What is wrong?” Her voice was low, steady—meant to command, to cut through confusion. But the tone only made your pulse race faster, your mind recoiling from the idea of appearing weak before her.

“Nothing,” you managed to choke out, but it was obvious you were lying, and she wasn’t one to suffer dishonesty lightly.

“Don’t lie to me,” she bit out, but you could tell her voice was more uncertain than sharp. She reached out a hand, her fingers hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with the display of vulnerability before her. Minthara was a force, a warrior who understood battlefields, strategy, survival. But this—the swirling, choking darkness you felt—wasn’t something she could simply attack head-on, and that realization seemed to unsettle her.

She watched as you struggled to control your breathing, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Speak to me,” she said again, more insistently this time, almost as if ordering you to snap out of it.

You could barely hear her over the racing thoughts in your head, each more overwhelming than the last. Anxiety had taken root deep inside you, and no amount of her demanding tone or even her solid presence could shake it loose.

“I—I can’t,” you managed, voice barely more than a whisper.

Minthara’s frustration grew, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze flickering around the room as though looking for something tangible she could fight, something she could fix. But there was nothing there, nothing to direct her fury at.

“This… fear,” she said finally, the word tasting foreign and strange in her mouth. “I don’t understand it. It has no shape, no sense. You’re strong; why can’t you just… dismiss it?” Her tone was more questioning than chastising, but you still flinched, the ache of not being understood cutting deeper.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, closing your eyes, trying to block out her piercing gaze. The words you wanted to say fell short, each attempt at an explanation slipping through your fingers. “It’s not that simple, Minthara. I can’t just will it away.”

For a moment, she stood there, silent, wrestling with her own irritation and helplessness. Her fists clenched at her sides, jaw tense. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she closed the distance between you, placing her hands on your shoulders in a grip that was firm, grounding.

“Look at me,” she ordered, and you forced yourself to meet her gaze, even as your mind continued to spin. “You are here. Right here, with me.” Her voice softened, but just barely, a rough edge of vulnerability breaking through. “There is no battle now, no foe to fight—only this moment.”

The warmth of her hands, the solidity of her presence, pulled you back, anchoring you even as you felt yourself slipping away. Her eyes held yours with a determination that cut through some of the fog, her grip on you a reminder that you weren’t alone.

“Focus on my voice, on my touch,” she murmured, her brow furrowing in concentration as she struggled to find the right words. “Breathe with me.”

You tried, inhaling deeply to match the steady rise and fall of her own breathing. The rhythm was grounding, a tether pulling you back toward something real, something outside of the chaos in your head.

“Minthara… I’m sorry,” you whispered, guilt flooding in as the worst of the panic ebbed, leaving exhaustion in its place. “I didn’t mean to… drag you into this.”

She huffed, shaking her head as her grip tightened ever so slightly.

“I don’t need your apologies,” she replied, her tone gruff but with a warmth hidden beneath. “Just… tell me how to help you next time. If there is a way.”

You nodded, her words a balm against the ache in your chest. “This… was enough.”

She scoffed lightly, but her lips softened into the barest hint of a smile. “Good.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The world around you feels tight, claustrophobic, like it's closing in with each passing moment. Every sound is sharp, too loud, and every breath feels short, strained, as though you're inhaling smoke. You try to ground yourself, to focus on something—anything—but the rush of thoughts is relentless, tangling together, louder, and louder, until—

"Vlakith's eyes, what is wrong with you?"

Lae'zel's voice breaks through the noise, her tone sharp with annoyance, and though it's a familiar sound, it only heightens the chaos in your mind. You glance up at her, barely able to meet her gaze, your hands gripping the edges of your cloak tightly, knuckles white. Your vision swims, and there's something vulnerable, exposed, in your look that catches her off-guard. She crosses her arms, brow furrowing deeply.

"What has brought you to this pathetic state?" she demands, though her tone carries a slight edge of uncertainty. Lae'zel isn't used to this, to seeing you so unsteady. Her impatience seems almost protective, like she's annoyed that she can't simply strike down whatever is plaguing you.

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. Your throat feels constricted, tight, and suddenly, your chest aches, like you're being crushed from the inside. Your heart races, and it’s hard to keep your breathing steady. Each attempt to explain feels pointless, small words incapable of conveying the tangle inside you.

"Lae'zel, I—" you start, but your voice cracks, and you feel a pang of embarrassment. You look away, frustration mingling with the turmoil inside, and that only makes everything worse.

Lae'zel huffs, her usual directness faltering. You see the familiar tension in her jaw, the slight narrowing of her eyes as she looks at you with something close to confusion, maybe even worry.

"Are you injured? Poisoned?" she asks, her gaze flickering over you as though searching for some sign of physical harm. "Speak, or have you lost your tongue as well?"

Your breaths come quicker, shallower, and Lae'zel's frustration intensifies. She reaches out, her hand hovering over your shoulder, fingers twitching with restrained force. She’s trying to understand, trying to solve this the way she would a problem on the battlefield, yet it's clear she has no idea what to do.

"Lae'zel," you manage, voice barely a whisper. "I—I can't—" The words crumble into silence, and you turn away, feeling an overwhelming need to escape, to be anywhere but here.

But she doesn’t let you. Instead, she steps in front of you, her figure imposing, her expression a mix of irritation and something else, something softer that she would never acknowledge out loud.

"Cease this nonsense," she orders, her tone still sharp. "You are stronger than this. Why are you allowing yourself to be reduced to a trembling wretch?"

You can see her impatience clashing with her own helplessness, the unease in her gaze as she watches you struggle. She wants to fix it, to fight it, but anxiety isn’t an enemy she can face with her blade.

"Lae'zel, I don’t… I don’t know what to do," you finally admit, feeling the words rush out in a painful confession. "Everything feels like—like it’s too much. I can't… I can’t stop it."

Her expression softens, if only slightly, as she processes your words. Her hand hesitantly comes to rest on your shoulder, her grip firm, grounding. She sighs, exasperated, but there’s a trace of something else, a rare tenderness lurking beneath her frustration.

"This… weakness of yours," she mutters, her gaze piercing but not unkind, "it will not conquer you. You are stronger than this."

You swallow, looking down, but her hand tightens on your shoulder, commanding your attention.

"I do not know how to battle something that lives only in your mind," she admits, voice low, almost reluctant. "But I will not let it claim you."

The honesty in her words, the sincerity that she rarely shares, cuts through the haze. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to help, but she’s here, and she’s not backing away.

"Look at me," she says, her voice softer, less an order and more a plea. "You are not alone, do you hear me? You are… mine." She pauses, the weight of that admission hanging in the air, her hand moving to clasp the back of your neck, fingers steadying.

You nod, taking a shaky breath, feeling some of the tension ease under her touch. Her hand remains firm, anchoring you, and though her expression remains stern, there’s a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.

"If this… feeling attempts to overtake you again," she says, struggling with the words, "know that I am here. And I will not let you fall."

Her words, her strength, they begin to ground you, to steady the spiraling thoughts. It’s not perfect, and she’s still as impatient and brash as ever, but in her own way, she’s offering you solace.

"Thank you," you manage, voice trembling but genuine. Lae'zel huffs, her hand leaving your shoulder with an awkward pat.

"Yes, well, see that you regain your senses soon," she mutters, though her eyes linger on yours, holding a warmth that belies her gruffness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The evening had started peacefully, with you and Shadowheart sharing a quiet moment by the fire, watching embers flicker against the backdrop of the starlit sky. Shadows from the flames danced across her face, lending her beauty a mysterious, ethereal quality. She was curled against you, her head on your shoulder, fingers intertwined with yours, her touch warm and steady. But somewhere in the calm, a ripple of unease began to grow, small and sharp, turning slowly into a twisting, thorny mass of thoughts in your chest.

At first, you tried to ignore it, keeping your breath steady, your hand still wrapped around hers. But the familiar pressure started to mount, your heart drumming an erratic rhythm in your chest, thoughts racing faster than you could tether them. Each breath seemed to get shorter, constricted, your mind and body spiraling in sync.

Shadowheart noticed the change, her fingers stilling in yours as she looked up at you.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice soft, but laced with growing concern.

You tried to nod, tried to answer her, but words lodged themselves in your throat, and a stifling silence stretched out instead. The familiar symptoms crept over you—sweat beading on your forehead, heart hammering, mind racing in a flurry of worst-case scenarios and creeping fears you couldn’t explain. You closed your eyes, trying to drown out the overwhelming rush of it all.

“Hey… look at me.” Shadowheart’s voice was a steady anchor, but even that felt distant, unreachable. She tightened her hold on your hand, shifting to face you fully, her expression growing more worried by the second. “You’re not all right, are you?”

There was a helplessness in her gaze, a deep, worried line creasing her forehead. Shadowheart was no stranger to combat, to wounds and battle scars—but this was different. She couldn’t simply fight off whatever was holding you hostage.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she whispered, squeezing your hand, her other hand reaching to cup your cheek. “Please, tell me how to help you.”

The words barely registered. Your mind was racing too fast, filled with an overwhelming wave of dread and nameless anxieties that seemed to suffocate you from within. Your breath grew shallower, panic clawing at the edges of your awareness. You felt untethered, as though you were floating far from your own body, lost in a sea of dread.

“I… I don’t…” you stammered, struggling to find something, anything to ground yourself.

Shadowheart’s eyes widened, and her hand on your cheek grew firmer, more determined.

“I’m right here,” she murmured, her voice laced with a fierce, protective tone. “Look at me. Just focus on me. Forget everything else.”

But focus seemed impossible, your thoughts spiraling faster and faster, like being caught in a current you couldn’t swim against. You clutched at her hand like a lifeline, but even that felt like it was slipping away, your mind lost in a haze of fear and helplessness.

Shadowheart’s breath hitched, her distress evident.

“I don’t know how to help, but I’m not leaving you,” she whispered, her voice laced with a tremor of frustration—at herself, at this intangible enemy pulling you away from her. “Please, just… keep holding onto me. Try to breathe with me, okay?”

She brought her forehead to rest against yours, closing her eyes, and began to breathe in slow, measured counts, her breaths steady, an anchor in the chaos. She kept her hand on your cheek, her fingers tracing gentle circles against your skin, grounding you in the feeling of her warmth, the solid reality of her presence.

For a long time, you remained caught in the grip of panic, but Shadowheart didn’t waver. She continued to hold you, her voice a constant murmur of reassurance.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe,” she repeated softly, her thumb brushing gently across your cheek. And slowly, so slowly, you began to feel the weight lifting, your breaths aligning with hers, each inhale and exhale pulling you a little closer to the present.

When your breathing finally slowed, the panic ebbing to a dull throb, you opened your eyes, meeting her gaze. Her face was etched with relief and lingering worry, her own breaths still steady but shallow, as if she had been holding them alongside you.

“There you are,” she whispered, a faint smile touching her lips. Her fingers lingered on your cheek, her thumb brushing softly across your skin. “I didn’t know how to help, but… I’m glad you stayed with me.”

You managed a nod, exhausted but grateful, letting her presence soothe you as the last remnants of fear melted away. She leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, and the weight of her love and care filled the hollow spaces where panic had once dwelled.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The night was still, the crackling of the campfire softened by a light breeze, but it was doing nothing to calm the spiraling chaos in your mind. Your chest was tight, and your breaths came shallow and quick, as if you couldn’t pull in enough air, couldn’t hold enough of it to ground yourself. Panic wrapped its relentless grip around you, twisting with each racing thought. Everything felt unbearably close, as though the walls of the night itself were pressing in on you.

Jaheira had been sitting beside you by the fire, recounting stories of her travels, her words lulling you to a quiet peace until the wave had started to take over. She turned to you, her face creasing with worry as she noticed the change, her warm expression shifting to one of sharp concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her tone soft, hands reaching toward yours.

You tried to nod, tried to ground yourself in her gaze, but the pressure in your chest only grew tighter. The world felt unreal, and no matter how much you fought it, your mind kept spiraling—thoughts blending together, fears and memories piling up until everything was a tangled mess of what-ifs and impossible scenarios.

Jaheira’s eyes widened, realizing something was deeply wrong. Her hands, usually so steady and controlled, trembled as she gently cupped your face.

“Look at me,” she urged, her voice gentle but laced with urgency. “Breathe, alright? Slow breaths. Focus on my voice.”

Her hands were warm, grounding in a way, but even her touch couldn’t completely pull you back. Every fiber of you was fighting to calm down, to ease the storm in your mind, but each attempt felt like trying to grasp smoke. The panic felt endless, and you could see the worry deepen in Jaheira’s eyes as you struggled to respond.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” she murmured, her voice breaking slightly as she glanced around as if seeking an answer in the shadows of the trees. “Please, just… breathe with me, alright? We’ll get through this.”

Her distress tugged at you, piercing through the haze just enough to make you feel guilty for causing her pain, but even that seemed to add to the spiral. You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to fight back the rising tide of panic, but it was no use. The tighter you tried to hold on, the harder it was to breathe, and soon you were gasping, fingers digging into the ground as if holding on to something solid could somehow anchor you.

Jaheira shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you, pulling you tightly against her.

“Please, love, come back to me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. You’re safe. Just stay with me.”

There was a desperation in her tone that broke through, her words pressing into the heart of the storm inside you. She was grounding herself in trying to ground you, holding you with a fierce tenderness, her arms strong and unyielding, as if her very presence could keep the panic from consuming you whole. Her fingers gently traced patterns across your back, her breath steady and even as she held you close.

“You’re safe,” she repeated, each word soft and deliberate. “I know it feels overwhelming, but it will pass. Just focus on my voice. I’m right here.”

Little by little, her words began to take root, the pressure loosening in your chest as you leaned into her touch. She kept whispering softly, her words a steady thread that you latched onto, pulling yourself out of the spiral, inch by inch.

After a few minutes, the panic began to ebb, replaced by a heavy exhaustion. Jaheira’s hands never left you, her touch constant and reassuring, her fingers tracing gentle circles on your back as she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

When you finally looked up, her face was tear-streaked, her expression full of relief and love.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice raw and shaky. Jaheira shook her head, a faint, tearful smile breaking through as she held you tighter.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she replied, her tone full of quiet conviction. “I’d face a thousand battles for you… I’ll face this one too. I don’t care how hard it is, how lost you feel. I’ll be here, every time.”

Her words sank in, a warmth settling in the hollow ache that the panic had left behind. You buried your face against her shoulder, letting her words, her presence, become your anchor.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

It started as a low tremor in your chest—a tiny thread of worry that, on most days, might pass unnoticed. But tonight, under the quiet candlelight and warmth of Gale’s study, it begins to unfurl, insidious, growing with every heartbeat until you’re barely breathing, barely aware of anything but the constriction in your chest, the overwhelming feeling that something is very wrong.

The book in your hands slips to the floor with a soft thud, but it sounds like a thunderclap to your frayed nerves. You clutch the edge of the armrest, struggling for air, unable to quite ground yourself in the room, in the moment.

“Hey… Are you alright?” Gale’s voice breaks through, sounding far off despite his closeness. You can hear the alarm creeping into his tone, and when he moves closer, kneeling beside you, his hands hover uncertainly in the air as though he’s afraid to touch you, unsure of what might help. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

You want to answer, to say anything, but the words knot up in your throat. Each inhale feels like it could be your last, shallow and jagged, and all you can do is try to gasp for air that never seems to fully come.

Panic flickers in Gale's eyes, an emotion so rarely seen in him. He reaches out, gently brushing his fingers over your shoulder, and then, with more urgency, taking your hand in his.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, even though he’s clearly just as frightened. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You look at him, his face swimming in your vision, distorted by the intensity of your anxiety. A silent tear slips down your cheek, and the sight of it seems to make him crumble. Gale has seen you in battle, in moments of joy and sorrow, but this—this paralyzing, quiet fear—is something entirely new.

“I don’t know what to do, love,” he whispers, voice trembling as he brushes your hair back, his thumb grazing your cheek, catching another tear as it falls. “Just… tell me how to help.”

“I—” Your voice catches, barely a whisper, almost inaudible. “I don’t… I can’t…”

“I’m here,” he repeats, his words soft but determined. “You don’t have to go through this alone.” His hands find yours again, holding them firmly as though his touch alone might be enough to anchor you, to pull you back from the edge.

As the minutes pass, Gale settles beside you on the floor, crossing his legs, staying as close as he can without overwhelming you. His gaze doesn’t waver, fixed on you with a quiet intensity, like he’s willing his calmness to wash over you, to lend you even a sliver of the steadiness that you desperately need.

"Try to breathe with me, alright?" he says after a moment, keeping his voice steady and low, a soft, warm undertone that you can just barely latch onto. "One breath at a time. In, and then out. I’ll do it with you."

You try to focus on him, on the cadence of his words, the slow rhythm of his breathing as he inhales deeply and then lets it out in a slow, measured release. In and out. Over and over. And gradually, your breaths begin to mirror his, hesitant at first but then finding a shaky kind of sync.

Minutes pass in silence, with Gale whispering quiet reassurances, his fingers tracing soothing circles along the back of your hand. He stays close, his presence a grounding force, his warmth beginning to break through the fog.

When the weight in your chest finally begins to ease, your breaths evening out, Gale’s face softens, relief flashing in his eyes as he catches your gaze.

“You’re alright,” he murmurs, leaning in closer. “We’re alright.”

You nod, swallowing back a fresh wave of emotion, this time not from fear but from the tenderness in his voice, the unwavering patience in his gaze.

Gale raises a hand to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek, his own eyes glassy with tears of shared relief. "I was… so afraid," he admits, voice thick. "I’ve never seen you like this. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing."

“You did… just right,” you whisper, the words rough but sincere. You lean into his touch, finding solace in the warmth of his palm against your cheek.

He smiles softly, and the tension in his shoulders melts, replaced by an aching tenderness. “Anytime you need, I’ll be here,” he says. “For as long as you want me.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The night air was heavy, pressing in as you sat by the dying embers of the campfire, your chest tight and breaths shallow. You weren’t even sure when the panic had crept in, only that it was there now, spreading like wildfire. The familiar, suffocating weight of anxiety had taken root, pushing thoughts out of control and magnifying every minor fear into something insurmountable.

Astarion was the first to notice, his usual playful smirk replaced by a look of deepening concern. He took a step closer, his sharp eyes studying you as if searching for some sign he could decipher. You could tell he was trying to mask his worry, but his brow was furrowed, and his hands fidgeted by his sides.

"Love?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with tension. "What's happening? What’s… what’s wrong?"

You tried to respond, but your throat felt closed, as if something tangible were lodged there, blocking any words from escaping. Your mind was awash with racing thoughts, each one louder and more pressing than the last, spiraling faster and faster until you felt lost in the noise.

Astarion reached out, hesitating as though unsure of what to do or how to help, his hand hovering before finally resting lightly on your shoulder. "Hey… Look at me, please. Whatever this is, you’re not alone. I’m here."

But you couldn’t meet his gaze, your eyes fixed downward, hands gripping your knees in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. The fear clawed at you, telling you things would never be alright, that you’d be forever trapped in this choking panic. You could feel Astarion’s fingers tighten, his voice growing sharper with unease.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. You heard him curse under his breath, the usual mask of bravado slipping away to reveal a vulnerability he rarely showed. He seemed almost frantic, as if desperately trying to piece together what was happening.

A moment later, he lowered himself beside you, his voice gentler, softer. “Listen. Please, listen to me, alright? You don’t have to say anything, but… I need you to hear me.”

You gave a small, involuntary nod, still struggling to focus on anything outside the panic raging inside you. Astarion took a shaky breath, reaching out to take your hand in his. His grip was uncharacteristically warm, steadying, the weight of it something solid to anchor you to the present.

“This feeling, whatever it is… it won’t last forever,” he said, his tone steadying, as if willing it to be true. “I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but just… try to breathe with me, alright? One breath at a time.”

His voice was calm, even if his expression was anything but. You could see the worry etched in his face, the faint tremor in his hand that betrayed his own anxiety. But he kept speaking, his voice low and unwavering, grounding you with each word.

“Just follow my breath. In… and out,” he whispered, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve spent years in the dark, chained to my own mind, and… and I don’t know how to take away your pain. I want to. But for now… let me be here.”

His words cut through the fog of your mind, just enough to remind you that you weren’t alone. His hand squeezed yours, the slight pressure a reminder of his presence, steady and constant. Gradually, painfully, you tried to match his breaths, focusing on the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hand in yours.

Astarion’s fingers brushed over your knuckles, his touch delicate as if you were something fragile he feared might break. “Whatever darkness you’re feeling, I’ll stay right here. I swear it. And when you’re ready, I’ll help you put the pieces back together.”

The sincerity in his voice was a balm, easing the sharp edges of panic that had gripped you. It was strange, seeing him so unguarded, so openly vulnerable. He stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours, his presence a lifeline through the worst of the storm. For once, he wasn’t hiding behind humor or bravado; he was simply there, raw and real, with you in your fear.

Slowly, your breaths evened, the crushing weight in your chest loosening just enough for you to draw in a full breath. Astarion noticed immediately, a glimmer of relief softening his expression. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles on the back of your hand, his voice a quiet murmur.

“There you are,” he whispered, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “One breath at a time. And I’ll be here, through all of it.”

You managed a small, grateful smile, squeezing his hand in return. For once, words felt unnecessary. Just the quiet presence of him beside you, his unwavering loyalty, was enough. And as the remnants of fear finally ebbed away, you leaned into him, letting yourself be held, comforted by the knowledge that, with him, you were never alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The first sign is a subtle tremor in your hands, just barely visible, but enough that you feel the prickle of dread in the pit of your stomach. You can’t seem to get a full breath in, your chest tight and shallow as though your lungs are pressing up against a wall. You try to steady yourself, forcing a long inhale and focusing on the quiet rhythm of the camp around you—the distant crackle of the fire, the murmur of voices.

But it doesn’t help. The edges of your vision start to blur, and your thoughts are racing, slipping through your grip like sand.

Wyll is the first to notice, his keen eyes catching the slight shake in your hands, the way your gaze is unfocused. He’s by your side in an instant, worry written in every line of his face as he crouches down, his hand hovering near your shoulder, hesitant.

“Hey, love… Are you all right?” His voice is soft, careful, but it only makes your anxiety spike higher.

You try to speak, to reassure him that you’re fine, that it’s nothing, but the words stick in your throat, tangled and heavy. The more you try to grasp at them, the more they slip away, leaving you fumbling in silence, feeling the wave of panic rise higher and higher.

Wyll’s face changes, his brows knitting together as he takes in the silence, the unsteady breath you’re forcing through clenched teeth.

“Okay, all right…” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his fingers reaching out tentatively to rest on your arm. “I’m here. Whatever’s going on, I’m right here.”

You’re barely able to nod, the gesture feeling stiff and unnatural, your muscles locked in tension. A small part of you wants to pull away, to hide this unraveling from him, but you can’t move, trapped in a fog of your own spiraling thoughts.

Wyll swallows, clearly unsettled, but he doesn’t pull away. His hand is warm and steady against your arm, grounding even as your mind spins further out of control. He leans closer, voice steady but laced with a faint tremor. “Tell me what you need. Anything, I’ll do it. Just… tell me how to help.”

But you can’t; the words are gone, buried beneath the weight of your anxiety, the way it presses against your chest like a vice. You’re lost in a spiral, every thought louder and more overwhelming than the last, each one feeding into the next in a relentless loop.

You close your eyes, shaking your head slightly, as if that might shake loose the panic.

Wyll’s hand tightens, his grip firm and reassuring even in his own uncertainty. He takes a slow, measured breath, almost as if he’s trying to model it for you, trying to lead you into his rhythm.

“I… I don’t know if this’ll help,” he says, his voice low and soft. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.”

He inches closer, one hand tentatively reaching for yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. The steady warmth of his touch breaks through the fog just enough to let you catch a hint of reality, a reminder of something outside the panic. You try to focus on it, letting the sensation ground you.

Your breath is still shallow, your thoughts still racing, but Wyll doesn’t falter. He keeps his hand over yours, murmuring soft reassurances, his voice steady and calm even as his own anxiety edges into his expression.

Slowly, the crushing pressure in your chest begins to lessen, the loop of thoughts beginning to lose its hold. You focus on Wyll’s touch, his thumb tracing patterns over your hand, the way he murmurs softly, keeping his words gentle and unobtrusive, as though he’s trying not to startle you.

“I’m right here,” he says again, and this time, you’re able to feel it—his presence, solid and unwavering, cutting through the haze. “I’ll be right here until you’re ready. No rush.”

Bit by bit, you begin to anchor yourself to his words, letting them replace the racing thoughts. The fog clears slowly, your breathing evening out as you match the rhythm of his. Finally, you open your eyes to see him watching you, his gaze soft with worry and relief.

He lets out a small, shaky breath, a hand lifting to gently brush your hair back, his fingers lingering as though to remind you he’s still there.

“You don’t ever have to go through that alone,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with quiet determination. “I’m here, for whatever you need. Always.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The evening had begun with a rare stillness, a gentle calm woven through the golden light filtering into the small clearing you and Halsin had found to spend time together. He was humming as he tended to a fire, casting a glance your way every so often, a warm, gentle smile playing on his lips. But tonight, something felt off in your chest, a faint unease that had begun as a nagging, restless energy, yet had quietly grown until you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Without warning, that unease blossomed into something sharper and more consuming. Your thoughts tangled and twisted, each one splintering into two, then four, until your mind felt like a mass of fraying threads. Your breaths became short and shallow, each one catching at the back of your throat. The forest around you blurred, the steady shapes of trees and flowers dissolving into a rush of shadowed green, and Halsin’s humming, usually so soothing, only seemed to crowd your senses further.

“Are you alright?” His voice, deep and familiar, brought you back just enough to make you realize that your hands were trembling. He was watching you with concern, his warm brow furrowing as he took a step closer.

You tried to answer, but your voice caught, nothing more than a thin rasp. Panic welled up, the edges of your vision growing dim as every part of you wanted to escape, to run from this terrible feeling clawing through your chest.

“My heart,” he said, more softly, kneeling beside you, his hand reaching for yours, but stopping just before it touched. “Something’s wrong. Please, just breathe with me.”

It was so Halsin, so typically him to stay calm and grounded. But you could only manage a tight, frantic shake of your head as the feeling kept surging, as if it were swallowing you whole. His face fell, an unusual worry clouding his eyes.

“How can I help? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he pleaded softly, his voice straining with his own rising concern.

You could feel his helplessness, the confusion behind his eyes. You wanted to reach out, to tell him it would pass, that you’d be fine, but the words slipped away. The worry on his face only sharpened your own distress, a dull ache forming in your chest.

He leaned back, taking a deep breath as if grounding himself for the both of you. Gently, he moved to sit closer, keeping his posture open, his eyes gentle yet alert.

“I’m here,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I’m not leaving.”

The world still felt like it was closing in, but something about his words, his sheer presence, gave you a fragile tether to cling to. You focused on his voice, letting the deep, familiar cadence of it wash over you. Slowly, achingly, your breathing began to match his, pulling in slower, steadier breaths.

“I don’t know what this is like for you,” he continued softly, watching you intently, his voice even as if he didn’t want to disrupt the rhythm you were building. “But I want to understand. I want to help. You don’t have to hide it, not with me.”

You felt the tremor in his words, the sheer sincerity. The weight of them, the softness, eased the tightness in your chest. You closed your eyes, focusing on his presence, his warmth beside you, the smell of the earth and pine that always seemed to linger around him.

After a few more breaths, you managed to reach out, fingers brushing against his hand. He stilled, his eyes searching yours, and then his fingers wrapped carefully around yours. The warmth of his hand grounded you, gave you something real to hold onto.

“You’re safe here,” he said gently. “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever it is—there’s no need to run from it. Not with me here. We can face it together.”

The gentle reassurance was enough to anchor you, enough to let the pounding in your chest ebb just a little. You squeezed his hand, and his answering squeeze felt like a lifeline.

Slowly, he guided you, taking steady breaths in time with yours, whispering soft encouragements and gentle reassurances until the world around you began to settle, and the vice in your chest loosened. The rush of sensations gradually dulled, leaving only Halsin’s presence beside you, solid and comforting, his thumb brushing over your hand in gentle, soothing circles.

When you finally managed to meet his gaze, the worry in his eyes had softened into an expression of deep, unyielding care. He reached up with his free hand, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and grounding.

“I am here for you, always,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Whatever you need. If there’s anything I can do… I will.”

With a weak, grateful smile, you nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours, and finally, the world felt a little safer, a little more steady, simply because he was by your side.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

oof bit of a heavy one, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[damiansgoodgirll]

I BEG YOU

Don’t break my heart part 3 please ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

you ask, i deliver

part one, part two

the judgment day x reader (platonic), damian priest and rhea ripley x reader (platonic), drew mcintyre x reader

‼️family issues, fear of abandonment, reader might have daddy issues, damian and rhea being the besties i need in my life ‼️

don’t break my heart - part 3

it was right after monday night raw ended that you had no energy left in you.

you knew it was going to be complete chaos when the shein version of the judgment day ruined damian’s match. rhea’s blood was boiling at the sight of damian being attacked by his ex members. so, you knew chaos was going to happen when her theme song echoed into the arena.

she told you to choose. she said that no matter what your decision was, her feelings for you weren’t going to change but she made clear that she was going to kick liv and dom’s asses. she told you - you can stay here and wait for us backstage or you can join me - and honestly, you thought about it but ten seconds later you were running by her side.

the crowd erupted in happy screams when they saw you by her side.

rhea pointed liv, you pointed jd, and finn too.

finn knew that you wouldn’t have picked him over damian and rhea but he wasn’t expecting to see you against him.

“don’t do this…” he told you “you’re gonna regret this” he didn’t mean to threaten you, he just wished you weren’t involved at all.

“i don’t care…i’m tired of hiding” and with that you simply attacked him. carlito saw the scene and simply came to the rescue, trying to take finn away from you.

while rhea tried to attack liv, damian was still in the ring with jd so you you went to attack him “move” you simply said. his face was stone cold. maybe finn was right, jd had a crush on you but you couldn’t care less.

of course liv and dom ran away, like the cowards that they are and in the meantime damian took his time in finishing jd.

the crowd cheered when they saw you, dam and rhea standing there in the ring, hugging each other, knowing that no matter what, you would always have each other’s backs.

while backstage, rhea and damian took their time answering questions and doing interviews but you were too tired from the event that occurred that all you wanted to do was to end up in your hotel room and sleep all night long.

walking towards the exit, you spotted drew who kindly waved at you. drew was the same as jey or la knight for you, just kind acquaintances because they were friends with damian and rhea but nothing more.

“hey kid” he smiled at you. his nickname made you smile “great fight out there”

“oh” you awkwardly smiled “that…that was nothing but thank you”

“are you going back to the hotel?” he asked, probably already knowing the answer, seeing you with your bags and tired look.

“yes…i was thinking of calling an uber, i fear damian and rhea will take too long with interviews right now…” you smiled.

“don’t call them, i can give you a ride, plus we are staying at the same hotel right? in downtown?” he asked and you nodded “i’m going back right now, you can ride with me”

“are…are you sure?” you didn’t want to be a bother so you doubled checked.

“positive, let’s go” he smiled and walked towards the rental car he got for the show. you’ve never been alone with drew before, only talked with a few times when he was training with damian so the idea of driving with him for 30 minutes was making you nervous.

but the car ride was quite and silent. not awkwardly silent, just comfortable enough. soft music playing in the background, drew watching the road as you watched some raindrops falling from the sky.

“you have talent kid” he broke the silence, waking you from your thoughts.

“oh, thank you…” deep down you knew you had talent, but that being the reason of getting kicked out of your family always made you feel guilty sometimes. you always wondered and imagined how your life would be if you actually had applied for college as your parents wanted for you. maybe you wouldn’t be this shy or weird while meeting new people. maybe you would be more confident about yourself. maybe you would have a boyfriend and a lot of friends.

there was always that voice in your head that screamed what if

“you don’t talk much uh?” he softly teased, making you smile a little.

“not really, no…i’ve always been like this, i guess…” lie. growing up you were talkative and you remembered your mother always telling you to shut up because you talked too much - what would she say if she could see you now?

“i get it…i was really shy growing up, then i started getting more used to the job, working with live crowds for all these years made me change the conception i had about myself…and i worked a lot on me, that helped me” he said, talking about himself but like he was giving you an advice.

you had to work more on yourself and you knew it, you just didn’t know if you were ready yet.

“yeah…big crowds helped me a bit but i still have to get used to it” you smiled.

“about that…everything okay today?” he didn’t want to overstep but he was worried about you. he couldn’t understand what finn did to make you run away like that.

“oh with finn?” he nodded “yes, he just said some things he shouldn’t have said…nothing major”

“got it” he smiled, realising you didn’t want to talk about it.

the rest of the car ride was spent with him just talking about his family. you were curious about it because he always talked about them so nicely that you actually wanted to know how he felt having his family and friends proud of him “and what about your family y/n? i’ve never seen them at the shows…”

he may have overstepped because you didn’t answer. he knew something because people talked but he didn’t know the full story and the one person who knew the truth was you.

“nothing much to say…they have other hobbies” you tried to avoid the argument as much as possible and you were happy dropped the conversation right there.

once at the hotel you thanked him about the car ride and told him that you were tired enough that you would have fallen asleep in the lobby any minute.

“yeah, i’m pretty tired too” he smiled at you “listen, in case you need more car rides or just someone to talk to, here’s my number, goodnight kid” and with that he left.

he gave you a piece of paper with his number on, kinda old fashioned but you liked it.

once you got to your room, you tiredly took a second shower and change into your pjs. you were so tired that you haven’t even eaten yet but at the moment you couldn’t care less.

before you could drift off, you received a text from rhea.

from rhea🖤

hey girl! sorry we took so long, we just finished with interviews, are you still in the arena? do you need a ride to the hotel?

from you

hey rhea! don’t worry about it! i can’t wait to see all of your interviews! i’m already back at the hotel and ready to sleep lol, but thank you so much for the offer!

you kinda didn’t mention how you got back to the hotel because you knew that if you did, rhea and damian would kept asking you questions that you didn’t want to answer. so you simply told her that you were about to sleep and that you would see her tomorrow.

but before falling asleep, you memorised drew number and decided to text him a “thank you for the ride, have a good night!” and then you drifted off.

drew would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy receiving your text. he was up all night staring at the ceiling and thinking of you. he’s been feeling some sort of attractions towards you but he thought that it was just a game his mind was playing to him. but sitting next to you and driving with you made him realise that maybe his attraction was actually a crush. he wished he could get to know you better but he knew and he saw - from the brief conversation you had in the car - that you wouldn’t open up to him, that he had to gain your trust and he was willing to do that.

morning came and you and rhea were already hitting the hotel gym as you waited for damian to join you.

“so…” rhea started talking “everything okay with the uber last night? did they get you here safely?” rhea knew about all the horrendous stories she read about uber drivers being maniacs so she tried to avoid them as much as possible, and so did you.

“oh…” you thought for a second “no i actually didn’t call an uber last night…uhm, drew drove me back here”

rhea was a little shocked for a moment but before she could say anything, damian both greeted you “what are we talking about here girls?” he gently smiled at you.

“drew as in drew mcintyre?” she asked and you nodded.

“what happened?” damian’s tone was more serious.

“nothing, drew just drove me back to the hotel last night and rhea is shocked about that” you wanted to avoid that conversation as much as possible but their looks made you realise that you would have to explain everything that happened last night.

“why him?” damian asked.

“because you were taking too long and drew saw me calling an uber so he offered? plus we are staying in the same hotel so i don’t see the problem”

“yeah but him?” it’s not rhea didn’t like him, they were friends. she didn’t like the idea of you and him alone together.

“yes rhea, him. he just drove me back, nothing else happened” you sounded irritated and damian noticed it.

“okay well, what matters is that you are here and everything went fine, right?” damian asked, hinting at rhea to drop the topic. she simply nodded and went back to her training.

you were just doing your exercises when a notification pop up into your home screen.

it was a text from drew.

hey kid, no problem at all! i told you, if you need car rides or anything else, just give me a call ;)

“what is making you smile like that?” rhea asked with a hint of curiosity.

“oh nothing, i just received a text…”

“from who?” damian teased you.

“no one you should worry about” you teased back.

“ouch…” rhea pretended to be offended “you’re keeping secrets now?”

“gosh, no! it was nothing important anyway” you quickly replied, tried to focus on your exercises. rhea and damian shared a look without you noticing it, they were determined to find the mysterious person behind your morning smile,

i will keep it mind lol! are you still in bed? i’m working out with damian and rhea and i’m already tired :(

you quickly answered back. in that moment you realised that maybe he didn’t wanna talk to you and you were just being a bother. what if he didn’t want you to text him? what if you were being a bother? what if, what if, what if were already overworking in your mind but before you could think of something worse, drew texted you back.

still in bed but i will hit the gym in a few minutes, i really don’t feel like it after last night but i have to…guess if i won’t be too late i’ll see there ;)

yup, you were smiling like a teen in love and you really couldn’t understand why. it’s not that you had a crush on him, right?

“is it drew?” damian asked.

“what?”

“you have this happy smile since this morning and seeing that last night you and drew were car buddies…something might have happened…” he explained to you.

you were quiet for a minute. nothing really happened between you and drew but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company, even if you didn’t have much of a conversation. he was kind and you couldn’t lie, he was hot, maybe too hot for you but aside from that, nothing happened.

before you could say yes or no, drew entered the gym with his teasing smile on his face.

“morning guys” he said smiling at damian and rhea “morning kid” he said smiling a little longer than to you.

rhea was beyond in disbelief “what was that?” she asked drew.

oh no, you thought. she was ready to cause chaos even outside of the company.

“what?” drew asked.

“that little stare at y/n, what was that?” she asked, a little more irritated.

“nothing to worry about, i just said good morning” he wanted to be petty but you knew rhea was a master in that.

“sure…don’t fuck with me drew” she started to get more defensive over you.

“okay can all we please calm down…” you said making them all turn their heads back to you “nothing is happening, can we please just go back to training please?” rhea was hesitant for a moment “please?” but she knew she couldn’t say no to you when you had those puppy eyes.

she didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable but she didn’t like this whole situation between you and drew.

“fine” she turned around and went back exercising with damian.

is she always like that?

drew texted you, making it hard for you not to laugh out loud. you simply nodded at him and he winked at you, making you blush.

two hours later and you were a sweaty mess “i need a shower, maybe two” you joked with damian, agreeing with you.

“i think i’ll rest for a bit…” damian said and you nodded.

“yeah” rhea joined “me too…i’m too tired today, plus we have to be back on the road tomorrow…i wanna sleep in today, y/n?”

“i’ll take a shower and then i’ll decide, probably i will order something to eat…” you smiled.

truth was you didn’t wanna stay in. you had to energy to spend the day in bed so you were probably going to sneak out and visit some places. so when you all left, you were quick to shower and to dress up.

wanna have lunch together? take out sounds nice but i think you would like some company :)

you smiled when drew texted you.

sure, i’ll meet you in the lobby in 30 minutes if that’s ok with you?

you waited for his reply with a little anxiety, so when he told you that it was perfect for him, you started your makeover and found something nice to wear.

you couldn’t lie, your heart was beating fast and faster the moment you approached the lobby.

“here we go” you whispered softly, mostly to yourself.

when you saw him, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. he was a really hot man, you saw him fight almost naked every single week so you were used to it but seeing him all suit up, clean and fresh, did something to you.

“hey kid” he greeted you “you look good” he genuinely smiled at you.

you weren’t used to compliments su you didn’t really know what to say, apart from thank you.

“you don’t look bad either” you teased making him chuckle.

you were kinda surprised when he opened the car door for you. no one ever did anything nice like that - not that you ever dated anyone but being treated nice like this in general made your heart skip a beat.

the restaurant he chose was nice. not too fancy but it was cozy and nice “i hope you like it” he smiled at you.

“it’s really nice drew, thank you” growing up you became shy and more introvert so you didn’t really know how to make long lasting conversations but seeing drew being so happily awkward and shy made you happy.

the first few minutes were pretty awkward, you reading the menu and drew doing the same, deciding what to eat and taking your sweet time with it. you both opted for some fresh pasta and some chicken salad, both wanting to keep it healthy but still enjoying your lunch out.

“how are you y/n?” he gently asked.

“oh, i’m good thank you…what about you? still thinking about your victory at summerslam?” you smiled.

“of course, i will think about that moment for a while now” he chuckled “what about your summerslam?”

“mine was…something” you tried not to make it too awkward but it was like a fresh wound to you, you were still hurting about the betrayal and it will hurt for a while.

“yeah, i can imagine that…do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, fearing he overstepped.

“i…well, i wasn’t really expecting the group to break up like that, i knew there was tension but not that much…you know, they are, were like a family to me” you breathed out “and now damian and rhea are all i have, i can’t let them down you know?” you feared you may have talked too much but with drew’s kindness it came natural to you.

“i’ve been there, betrayals will stay impress in your mind but it will get better eventually…” he smiled at you and you felt more comfortable talking with him.

while eating, he talked about the most stupid things he liked but that made you happy, hearing something new from someone new.

“y/n…” he called, his serious tone more pronounced “can i ask you something? it’s a little personal and you can say no if i make you uncomfortable but i’m just curious…” he asked and you nodded “i’ve heard things…mostly rumors about you…everyone claim to know you but i feel like they don’t even know what they’re talking about” he said and you let him continue “they’ve been talking about you are basically…alone, that you don’t enjoy the other women company, they’ve been talking about how and your family don’t have any connection, how they think it’s your fault…basically a lot of stuff that i’m pretty sure it’s not real…that’s why i wanted to hear it from you, you are the only one who knows the truth…”

you weren’t going to lie but it kinda made you feel bad what your colleagues thought of you.

“i mean…they are not that wrong, i’m not good at making friends, i tried, since i joined wwe but it felt like i wasn’t really welcomed so i decided to stay by myself, at least until i met rhea and damian…and they are quite right about me not being in contact with my family but they don’t know the full story…and if you don’t mind i would like to keep it private for now” it was hard for you talking about your family.

“yes of course, i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable at all, but i thank you for opening up to me, i really appreciate it” he genuinely smiled and you felt like you could probably trust him.

so you ended up lunch with two pieces of cake and fought for who was going to pay. like the gentleman he is, of course, he offered to pay.

“thank you for this amazing lunch drew, i really enjoyed it…it was nice having someone to talk to” you truthfully said once you both got out of his car and he smiled at your genuine words.

“anytime kid” there was a moment after he spoke where you were both silent, not knowing what to do or what to say.

“uhm… i think i’m going to rest for a bit now” you awkwardly signed to the hotel entrance, trying to make him understand that you were about to leave but that you didn’t want to leave him standing right there in front of the glass doors.

“oh yeah, i think i’m going to rest too, so, uhm, thanks for coming with me” he said making you chucked while he got closer to you “i’ll see you on the road” he slowly lowered his head and gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek “take care” he smiled before going back to his room.

now, you were the one who was left standing there in front of the doors.

with your happy face and bright smile, you came back to your bedroom, unbeknownst to you, rhea saw everything from the her hotel room as the window was facing down the entrance.

“oh i’m gonna kick his ass” she said before leaving her room.

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

definitely be making part 4, i was just going to wait raw next monday to see if something happens with tjd! if you have any ideas or recommendations let me know in the comments!

[luvsupa]

“WE’RE ENGAGED!”

tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), bully!gojo, gojo gets jealous/ he’s confusing again, love (ish)-hate relationship, ANGST, royalty, arranged marriage, forbidden love, lots of tension, kissing, cheating (guys don’t ever cheat) idk what to add..

w.c: 3.0k (🫨)

a/n: thank you guys for the support! 👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽 + likes and reblogs are appreciative!

prince gojo masterlist

cheers and applause echo in the drawing room as nanami slips a diamond ring onto your finger. your heart swells with joy at the promise of your future together. you had told nanami that this marriage would finally bring you the peace and love you’ve always longed for.

as you turn, you see your mother in tears, clinging to your father, both of them overwhelmed with emotion as they watch their daughter grow up so fast. the sight of nanami’s and gojo’s families, gazing at you with admiration, fills you with a sense of pride and belonging. even the queen herself is tearing up! but the only person who isn’t overjoyed is gojo.

he sits on the couch, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with irritation. the tension between you is beyond thick. sensing gojo's glare, nanami does the unthinkable.

with a swift motion, nanami spins you around and softly holds your face, his touch gentle and reassuring. he leans in to kiss you on the lips. you’re caught by surprise but then immediately kiss him back, the warmth of his lips melting away any doubts. you feel him smile into the kiss, a gesture that fills you with love and protection. the sudden sound of loud stomping pulls you from the kiss. you break away and turn to see gojo storming out of the room, his anger known in every step.

“awh, you two just warm my heart,” the queen says, wiping her tears away. “your engagement ball will be in a few days! the public cannot wait to see our new royal couple!” she adds, her voice filled with excitement and anticipation.

as everyone talks among themselves and you and nanami are caught up in conversation, one of the guards politely interrupts to inform the queen that an invitation has been delivered. the queen opens it, her expression turning to one of confusion.

“well, this is a surprise…” mrs. gojo says, her mind already working. “the haras are hosting a charity ball tonight. this could be good for your image.” the queen informs everyone. the haras? that name sounds familiar...

“ayana’s family is hosting a charity ball? she was always against anything involving charities,” nanami remarks.

oh. of course, ayana.

“i agree, it seems ayana may have informed her parents of your arrival. you know, your presence is greatly valued at such events,” nanami’s mother says,  handing nanami a personal invitation that reads, "to kenny," with a heart beside it. he notices you staring at the letter and quickly crumples it up, making your worries disappear.

“if you don’t wish to attend the ball, i will respect your decision,” nanami whispers into your ear, his smooth deep voice sending shivers down your back. you look up at him, trying to stay composed despite how good he looks.

“we can go. besides, who am i going to show off my ring to?” you say, both of you giggling, knowing ayana would go crazy seeing the ring he gifted you.

“you should probably go check on satoru,” nanami adds, did something happen to him? 

“it appears he didn’t take our engagement very well.” you nod at his words, giving him a peck on the lips before leaving to search for gojo.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

after what feels like hours of searching each room in the castle, you give up. gojo is nowhere to be found.

you head to your room, looking down at your ring reminded of the promised life nanami proposed with. a smile forms on your face as you enter, but you stop dead in your tracks when you see gojo sitting on your bed, reading your journal.

“why are you reading my journal?” you ask, your smile fading, anger growing. he looks up at you, irritation clear on his face as if you’ve done something to upset him.

“you know, your mattress is more comfortable than mine. i might have the servants switch it,” he says, ignoring your question and bouncing slightly on the bed to test it. “why are you even here?” you demand.

“i don’t appreciate you making my fiancée upset, especially to the point of tears,” he says, rising from the bed and walking behind you, shutting the door behind you to give you both privacy.

“fiancée? you-you proposed?” you ask, shock evident in your voice as you follow his movements around your room. “i will propose,” he says, taking a seat at your vanity desk. “her family’s event tonight will be the perfect time, don’t you think?” he says, checking himself out in the mirror. you can only nod in response.

“since she will become a princess, i expect you to treat her with kindness,” he says, looking at you through the mirror. your jaw drops at his words.

“expect me to? i’ve done my best to be kind, but all she does is the utmost evil. how dare you say that,” you reply, anger and disbelief mixing in your voice.

“you’re right, but she has shown how sorry she is. she expects a sincere apology from you,” gojo says as you walk closer, trying to see if he’s joking. “after all, you did make her cry in the garden the other day.”

“i didn’t do anything to her! 'toru, she is lying!” you protest.

“prince gojo,” he corrects. “i am not ‘'toru,’ i am prince gojo.”

you look down at him in betrayal. he’s never corrected you before, so why now?

“you’re mad because i’m marrying kento,” you say, piecing everything together. he just stares at you, unwilling to confirm your suspicion. gojo then rises from the vanity chair, looking down at you as he walks towards the door.

“it is an order to apologize to ayana,” he says, opening the door to leave. “and if i don’t?” you challenge.

“then your stay here will be cut short—any connection you have with my family will be ended,” he replies, slamming the door behind him.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

after your argument with gojo, you shake off everything and get prepared yourself in your room for the ball. nanami entered quietly, closing the door behind him. he approached you, his eyes filled with admiration and love. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“you look stunning,” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck.

you turned in his arms, your hands resting on his chest. “and you look as handsome as ever,” you replied, your voice soft and affectionate.

he leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, passionate kiss. the world outside faded away as you melted into his embrace, the intensity of your connection growing with each moment. his hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer, deepening the kiss.

breaking the kiss for a moment, he looked into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness. “I cannot wait to call you my wife,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

you smiled, your heart swelling with love. “and I can’t wait to be your wife,” you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw.

he kissed you again, this time more urgently, as if trying to convey all the love and passion he felt for you in that single kiss. you responded with equal desire, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him even closer.

as the kiss grew more heated, you felt the world around you blur, the only thing that mattered was the man holding you in his arms. his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. you moaned softly, your body responding to his touch.

just as things were about to escalate, there was a knock on the door, pulling you both back to reality. you pulled away from each other, your breathing heavy and your hearts racing.

“we should head downstairs,” you said, your voice shaky.

he nodded, his eyes still dark with desire. “yes, we should,” he agreed, exiting your room leaving you with privacy. 

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

everyone gathered at the front of the castle, you waited for a few members to finish getting ready. the queen announced that the carriages were prepared, and they headed to their respective carriages. just as you and nanami were about to exit through the large double doors, a guard approached nanami with urgent news.

“do you want me to wait for you, kento?” you asked, willing to stay back and arrive late with him. he shook his head. “no, dear. i'll attend to this meeting and join you. don't worry,” he reassured you, giving you a quick peck on the lips before following his guards.

you felt a pang of sadness seeing him depart from your side.

is this what newlyweds feel like?

shaking off your thoughts, you walked towards one of the waiting carriages. thanking the guards who opened the door for you, you stepped inside. but as you did, you tripped over someone's feet and fell onto their lap. you turned to see gojo manspreading, holding onto your waist to prevent you from hitting your head on the carriage's interior.

“what the hell are you doing in my carriage?” you exclaimed, pushing his arms away and moving to sit on the opposite side.

“your carriage?” he retorted, pointing up at the gold plate engraved with "PRINCE SATORU GOJO."

oh.

quickly apologizing for your mistake, you attempted to leave the carriage, but gojo stopped you, signaling to the guards that everything was fine as they closed the door.

"don't want to ride with your husband?" gojo teased, a smirk playing on his lips. “my, my, i didn't expect you two to be fighting already.”

“no... he has an emergency meeting,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “heh, a meeting, you say? sounds like he's trying to get out of the marriage,” gojo chuckled, making you pout. as you bantered back and forth, the carriage suddenly lurched forward, taking you by surprise.

glancing out the window, you both sat in an uncomfortable silence.

“you're truly breathtaking,” gojo remarked suddenly, catching you off guard. blushing, you fiddled with your fingers, avoiding his gaze. “you look good yourself,” you managed to say, trying to deflect the compliment.

“i read what you wrote in your journal about me,” he began, causing your heart to skip a beat. "i love you too," he added, and held yourself back from repeating those words back, staring at your ring to remind yourself of the man you were soon to marry.

just as those words hung in the air, the carriage came to a sudden stop, signaling your arrival at the gala. the guards opened the door, and gojo stepped out first.

“and i am beyond furious that you're marrying him,” he said quietly before walking away, leaving you feeling guilty.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you entered the grand ballroom, filled with guests in beautiful silk gowns and the beautiful melody of a familiar orchestra, you couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness. everyone seemed paired off, and you wished nanami were there to walk in with you, hand in hand. searching the room, you spotted gojo across the hall, engaged in conversation with ayana and other couples. when he caught your gaze, you looked away in slight embarrassment.

cute, he thinks.

amidst the lively chatter and music, your mother tried to comfort you while you anxiously awaited nanami's arrival, your eyes fixed on the entrance doors.

“I'm so glad you made it! my parents are dying to meet you!” ayana greeted your parents, her congratulatory words on your engagement dripping with insincerity. you watched her guide your parents to meet hers, leaving you standing alone, fingers fidgeting with your ring.

“the ring suits you,” gojo's voice interrupted.

“are you here to keep me company?” you replied, less enthused than you hoped.

“you know I love being near you,” he said, and you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“don't think I forgot about your threatening words, prince gojo,” you reminded him sharply, but he only smiled.

“I did not forget. ayana will get her apology one way or another,” he declared confidently. just as you glanced away, you spot ayana and another man slipped out of the main event towards the outside garden. 

was this a distraction?

your anger flared at the sight, and you quickly excused yourself, gojo assuming you were upset about the apology. but In truth, you were determined to find out what ayana was up to.

you followed her previous steps and exit the doors leading to the garden, trying to pinpoint where they could’ve gone in the huge garden. you trail into a random direction and feel you’ve been walking for too long.

your feet ache from the heels you’ve been wearing as you spot a secluded bench, scurrying to rest your feet in time. just as you’re getting comfortable, you hear ayana’s unmistakeable annoying laugh followed by a man’s voice.

you feel anger wash over you again as you quickly take off your heels, holding it in your hand as you follow the noises within the garden. your heart beats faster as you get closer and closer to the source of noise.

how dare she lie and cheat on him, I cannot believe-

your thoughts come to a full stop as you can’t process what’s in front of you. your heels slip out of your hands, startling the two.

“k-kento?..” you shakingly say as tears fill your eyes. you see nanami quickly making a great distance between him and ayana as they were kissing. he calls out your name as you refuse to listen to him. 

“it’s really not what it looks like- I was telling her she must leave me alone for the sake of us!” he says truthfully, as ayana smirks knowing her evil plan worked.

“kenny, you cannot leave this place without proposing to me,” ayana sneers, her voice dripping with evil. you and nanami exchange confused glances, the intensity of the moment makes you feel as if you might be ill.

“since you two aren’t going to ask, I’ll happily explain!” she exclaims, clapping her hands with glee as you begin feeling dizzy. “because there is a witness to kenny’s and my sinful actions, we must get married to avoid being shunned by society!” she declares, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight.

“w-well I wouldn’t dare to speak a word of what I just saw-“

“you're not the only witness, dear," she says, her eyes locking onto someone behind you. you turn to see the man she had been speaking to earlier, the one you noticed before entering the garden. he stands there with an evil smirk. “kenny is a great kisser too, he even leaned in first!”she adds, fuelling your growing anger.

“kento, how could you?” Your voice breaks as the weight of betrayal crushes you. “do you know what this means? you two will be married, society will demand it!”

ayana's smirk widened. “exactly. with nanami caught in this scandal, he has no choice but to marry me to salvage his honor—and yours.”

“the choice is yours, dear. call off the engagement or face the consequences,” she threatened, wiping away your tears with feigned sympathy. “you have until your engagement ball to decide.”

staring at them in disbelief, sickened by the situation, you turned away in anger, striding back into the ballroom. tears streamed down your face, heels in hand, paying no mind to your appearance as you pushed through the crowd.

gojo sensed your presence, ignoring the conversation he was in. he notices your state as he abandons his conversation and rushes to your side. “hey, what's wrong?” he started, then fell silent, his eyes widening at your distraught state.

he took your hand, rushing out of the ballroom, leading you swiftly to the nearest bathroom. “are you hurt? did someone hurt you?” his concerns increasing as he searched your face for any sign of injury.

“I'm leaving,” you declared abruptly, his confusion evident.

“okay, I'll give you privacy,” he began to step away, but you stopped him.

“no, I mean I'm leaving this place. I'm sick of you, sick of all of this,” you rambled tearfully. “I'll pack my things tonight and be gone by morning.”

“no, please, don't leave,” gojo pleaded, his voice trembling. he couldn't bear the thought of losing you. “what happened?” he begs.

“I caught nanami and ayana in the garden,” you explained through tears, your frustration increasing. “she's threatening me to call off the engagement or-”

gojo cut you off, pulling you into a warm embrace, holding you tightly. his heart raced with a mix of anger and protectiveness.

“my love, I swear no one will harm you again," he vowed, cupping your face gently as he kissed away your tears.

“this is what I'm sick of,” you protested, looking up at him with frustration. “you're angry one moment, then this—satoru, what is your issue?”

“we're forbidden to marry, and you know that,” he reminded you, his tone softening. “our fathers' contract—it's tearing me apart, I can’t keep this façade or I’ll break,” he confessed, his pain evident.

“I’m a selfish man- I want you to myself. pushing you away all these years and now finding out we are forbidden, i-i cant ,” he admitted, his gaze intense with longing and desperation.

then, an idea struck him. a selfish and impulsive idea.

staring at your ring finger, he grabbed your arm, tightened his grip on your hand as he’s pulling you out of the bathroom and back into the ballroom. you struggled to break free, but he held firm.

“everyone, may I have your attention?” gojo's voice rang out, commanding the room's focus.

“satoru, stop, what are you doing-“ you pleaded, but he ignored you.

“we're engaged!”

the room fell silent, all eyes on the unexpected announcement.

what?

[runnning-outof-time]

Up Until You | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: In which Tommy Shelby realizes that he might just have someone he wants to live for.

Warnings: smoking, slight season 2 spoilers

Word Count: 3698

A/N: boy does it feel good to post a story again! I hope there won’t be as big a gap between this and my next one … I promise I’m getting these requests written! Anon, I hope this is as angsty as you were hoping….the prompt you sent is bolded. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: I almost forgot! I wanted to give a shoutout to the lovely Mars @toms-cherry-trees for helping me so much in the planning process of this fic…I don’t think it would have gotten finished if it weren’t for you!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged!

(Y/N) sent Ada Shelby a look that asked 'where is he?' the second the latter opened the door. Ada answered with a head nod to the left, which conveyed the answer of 'he's in there'. A glance over the Shelby woman's shoulder confirmed it - Tommy was sitting at the table in the front room. His back was to the door, so he hadn't noticed that she arrived...yet.

She sent Ada an appreciative smile before she quietly walked into the room, hoping that Tommy wouldn't hear her footsteps. He seemed to be too engrossed in his writing for that to happen though. She stood there for a few moments, carefully peering over his shoulder as he finished the sentence he was writing.

He paused then, and it gave (Y/N) the ability to read the sentence he'd just written:

In the event of my own death, I want the following facts to be known...

Reading those words made her mind go blank. "You're actually going through with it?" she asked without thinking.

The sudden sound of someone's voice made Tommy quickly turn in his chair. He was already on edge with the day's events taking up his mind, so this unexpected visitor had caught him completely off guard. It took a few moments for it to register that (Y/N) was standing in front of him. When it did, he cursed under his breath before letting out a huff.

"When'd you get here, eh?" he asked, his eyebrows raised as he placed his hands on his thighs.

"Just now. I couldn't find you at home. The guys hadn't left for the derby though, so I figured you'd be here," she explained her reasoning. "You don't have to go through with this, Tommy," she then circled back, not letting him switch topics.

"I have to," his response cut right to the point. He didn't have time to get into a discussion about it.

"What about the other options you've shared with me? The options that don't include you having to come face to face with this man in order to get the job done," she reminded him of the talks they've had in the past, hoping that doing so would get him to change his mind.

"There's no time for those other options, (Y/N). The derby's today. The plan's been laid out," he wasn't biting.

Silence hung in the air as they stared at each other. (Y/N) was hoping that he'd change his mind. She waited on bated breath, waiting for him to announce that to her. But he stayed silent.

She couldn't wait any longer. "So that's it then?" she asked, incredulousness present in her voice. The fact that he wasn't even trying to entertain a conversation about this was breaking her heart. "You're just going to write your note and practically seal your death with it? And what'll that mean for me?" she was unable to stop herself from getting choked up as she uttered her final question. She didn't want to think about her life without him, but it was staring her dead in the face at the moment.

"The note's just precautionary, love," he attempted to assure her. Her expression didn't change, her brow was now furrowed and it was noticeable that she was biting on her bottom lip; most likely to stop her tears. Tommy finally stood then, coming face to face with her in hopes that his proximity would wash some of her worry away. "I'll be fine," he added in a low voice, blindly searching for her hands so that he could hold them.

"You can't promise that," she responded, her voice coming out as a shaky whisper. It was taking everything she had not to burst out into tears in this moment. She'd always associated his closeness with safety...whenever Tommy was close, (Y/N) knew she could never get hurt. But now his closeness was making her hurt even more.

"It'll be fine," he repeated, squeezing her hands.

"It's really been decided?" she still couldn't accept it.

"It has," he nodded.

(Y/N) sighed at his confirmation. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she pulled her hands from his grasp. She then wrapped her arms tightly around her frame as she turned and took a few steps towards the windows.

"(Y/N)." Her name left Tommy's lips as a breath. He knew he was fighting a losing battle here. "Come on, love. Look at me," he gently coaxed her. She stood still. "It'll be fine," he tried once more to assure her.

That set her off. She whipped around within a second of hearing his statement. There was now a fire burning in her watery eyes. "Do not say those three words again," she snapped at him, "do not continue to try and reassure me with things that you cannot guarantee will happen. You know how dangerous this plan is, Thomas. Please don't try and act like It isn't. You wouldn't be sat here writing a note for someone to find in the event of your death if you didn't think that there was a possibility of it happening," she spoke her mind, letting her emotions go free as all of the pent up worry flowed out.

"(Y/N)," he spoke her name again, in a different tone this time. He didn't need this lecture. Not right now. "This is what needs to be done," he continued in a low voice, staying stoic in hopes that it would alleviate the situation quicker.

But (Y/N) no longer cared about what he did or didn't need at that moment, and if anything, his statement just made her even more upset.

"It doesn't need to be done like this," she insisted, "you don't need to sign your life away for a contract...for a man who doesn't give a single care about the stakes that have been raised here so long as he isn't the one carrying out the deed. Any other person would be trying to find a way to take themselves out of the equation but you've decided to put yourself in the driver's seat."

(Y/N) felt like she was talking in circles. Hell, she probably was, but she was doing so in hopes that something would be set off inside of him. She wanted him to realize that there was still time to think up another plan; one that didn't include him being placed in harm's way.

"What is it that you want from all of this?" he asked her, his brows furrowed together.

"You, Tommy!" she exclaimed, her frustration shining clear through her words. "I want you to fight! I want you to realize that things don't need to play out this way; that you can still put another plan into play!" she paused, taking a deep breath as she swiped at the tears that had escaped her eyes. "I want you to come home when all of this is finished," her voice was level again as she spoke the final sentence. Her eyes were locked onto his, hoping that he'd realize how much this was affecting her.

Their eyes stayed locked and a few moments passed before Tommy looked down at the ground. He exhaled a sigh as he brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "It's already done," he said, his voice void of any tone.

"Then I guess I'm done," the words left (Y/N)'s mouth before she could stop them. She didn't take them back though. She was tired of fighting in a one-sided fight. It was so obvious that Tommy had his mind made up. Nothing was going to change it at this point. But yet she still held onto that sliver of hope. She hoped that her showing up today and speaking her piece would get him to change his mind.

"(Y/N)..." Tommy looked up again as her name fell from his lips, shock now present in his expression.

"I can't be here a moment longer. I can't stand in front of a man who is acting as if he's already dead. I need to leave."

Her words were spoken softly, but Tommy heard them loud and clear. He said nothing as she moved to the archway, expecting her to leave without another word. To his surprise, she turned around just before she was about to exit the room.

"I didn't believe that love existed until you came along, Tommy. But you showed me how wrong I was for thinking that way; for thinking that I'd never experience something like that. And now you've just decided not only your future, but mine as well. I can't stay here and watch it play out. I'm not sure if I'll be home when you return. I just..." (Y/N) stopped speaking as the words got caught in her throat. She let out a shaky breath, tears welling up in her eyes once more.

All words escaped her at that moment, and she shook her head instead, deciding that finishing her declaration would be a lost cause anyway. She couldn't even bear to look at him again, too afraid that she'd actually break down. So instead she turned and made her way to the door of the home, opening it and leaving without looking back.

The sun was now shining down on her. It was an absolutely lovely day in London, but yet she was having one of the worst in her life. She decided to go for a walk, revisiting the streets that still felt like home even though she'd made the move to Birmingham several months ago.

(Y/N) knew Ada Shelby before she knew Tommy. She'd met her when Ada had moved into the next door apartment with her adorable son, Karl. The two women quickly became friends, spending a lot of time together right up until the day Ada had been found and hurt for being a Shelby.

Contact stopped briefly as Ada had moved out of the apartment, but things continued like nothing had even happened when Ada sent (Y/N) a letter that contained her new address. The two frequently spent time together in the front room of the lovely new home, sipping tea and talking about the day's events in front of the fire.

Ada's house was where (Y/N) first met Tommy. Surprise riddled their first encounter. Ada had stepped away to tend to Karl when Tommy came knocking on the door. (Y/N), being the friend that she was, didn't hesitate in opening it. The sight she was greeted with took her breath away. Thankfully Ada had returned from Karl's room, or who knows how long the two would have been standing in the doorway, staring at each other. She even joked about the fact that they couldn't seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Of course it didn't help that Tommy had forgotten what it was he was even there for for the first few minutes of his visit.

That wasn't the last time (Y/N) saw Tommy. The two became very close very quickly. It was like they had known each other forever; like there was this pull present between them that neither could ignore. Things also got serious pretty quickly. So serious that (Y/N) was packing up her things and leaving her London apartment for Small Heath after only six months of knowing Tommy.

Some might think it was crazy; that things were moving much too fast. But (Y/N) had never felt so sure of doing something in her life.

Which made what was happening now hurt so much more. But she needed to keep walking. She'd done the right thing.

Tommy placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a match before taking a deep drag from it and exhaling slowly. The sealed letter sat on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a few moments before pressing the thumb and index fingers of his free hand against his eyelids, hoping it would alleviate some of the pressure he'd been feeling.

"I made you up some tea," Ada's voice broke through the silence, and the sound of glass being set on the table he was working at made Tommy lift his head again.

He nodded as a thank you before bringing the cigarette back up to his lips again. He then stamped it out in the ashtray while exhaling the smoke slowly.

"I heard everything that was said, you know," she said then, moving over to one of the chairs so that she could sit. "What were you thinking, Tommy?" she asked with raised eyebrows, her eyes zeroed in on her brother.

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked off to the far wall. He didn't need anymore of this right now.

"She was my friend first. She was the only person who cared about me when I moved here. She helped me through a lot. I'm not going to let you ruin her for your stupid ambitions," Ada had no problem speaking her mind and letting him know how wrong he was for responding to (Y/N) the way he did.

Tommy pulled the timepiece from his pocket and checked it before letting out a sigh and returning it back to its place. "I need to leave," he told Ada before lifting the cup and downing the beverage in one go. In hindsight he was thankful that it wasn’t scorching hot. "Thanks for the tea," he said to her as he set the empty cup back down.

Nothing more was said as Tommy stood from the chair he was sitting on. He looked to Ada as he pulled the jacket he'd been wearing back on over his shoulders. She was glaring at him, hoping that he'd have something - anything - more to add to the conversation.

It became apparent that he didn't when he started for the archway. So Ada left him with one last statement: "please don't let her go, Tommy. We all need her." There was a quiet desperation now present in her eyes, one Tommy wasn't sure what to say in response to.

So he nodded and turned to exit the home, heading right to the car he parked a few streets down.

Truthfully what he wanted to do right now was head back to Birmingham and stop (Y/N) from leaving, to tell her that she was more important than any plan he could ever put into place. He knew she was justified in saying everything that she had.

But it was too late to do that now. Tommy knew that there'd be men searching for him by the end of the day if he stepped away from the plan this late into it. At least now he had some sort of control over the outcome of his life. And he was going to try like hell to stay alive...because now he had someone to stay alive for.

The house on Watery Lane was quiet when Tommy stepped into it later that evening. The fire in the main room was still lit, but he couldn't quite remember if they'd put enough wood on to keep it going prior to leaving that morning. So judging (Y/N)'s presence based on that could have surely given false hope.

He took his overcoat off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door. The suit jacket followed after, and he draped that over one of the chairs in the sitting room as he walked through it.

No one was downstairs, but he hadn't expected anyone to be at this time of night.

He quietly walked up the steps and down the hall to the bedroom that he and (Y/N) shared. He paused at the closed door, taking a moment both to steady himself; to regroup from the day's events, and to prepare himself for the possibility that he may be opening the door to an empty room.

After inhaling and exhaling deeply, he turned the knob and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was the lit candle on the bedside table. Seeing it made all of his worries dissipate. (Y/N) had a habit of lighting them and then falling asleep.

Looking slightly to the right, he found the woman that hadn't left his mind since she left him in Ada's sitting room. She was laying on her side, facing the wall, telling him that she was sleeping.

Slowly, quietly he began ridding himself of his outer layers. It wasn't until he moved over to the dresser that he noticed the bags sitting on the floor. They were packed. It was easy to see that, even in the candlelight. He looked back to (Y/N) then, putting the pieces together in his mind. She was going to leave...but something made her stay.

Now only wearing his undergarments, he made his way over to the bed. Hesitation overcame him again. Should he lay with her? Should he go back downstairs? She was in her spot, tucked up against the wall so that enough room was present for him on the small bed they shared.

A few moments passed before he made his decision, lifting the covers and slowly slipping underneath them. He laid on his back for a short time before turning onto his side so that he was facing her sleeping frame. Another bout of hesitation filled him, but he didn't let it stick for too long as he gently draped his arm over her midsection.

That was when (Y/N) let out the shaky breath she'd been holding in from the moment she heard the door open. She was awake the entire time.

"Are you still awake, love?" Tommy asked in a whisper.

"Yes," she breathed out, her voice wavering.

"You've been crying," he pointed out, able to read her like an open book.

"I didn't know if I'd see you again," she answered him, choking up as she spoke.

"I'm here," he assured her, his arm wrapping tighter around her body.

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Instead tears fell from her eyes as she held her breath, trying not to make it noticeable that she was crying. But Tommy was able to feel how her body was shaking.

"Turn and look at me," he said quietly, a soft demand that took her a few moments to comply with. Her tear-stained face became visible in the candlelight when she did, and seeing it broke Tommy's heart. "C'mere," he breathed, allowing her to move even closer to him so that he could engulf her in his embrace.

"No one knew where you were, Tommy," she whispered once she was finally able to get words out again. "I thought..." she paused, not even wanting to say what she was thinking, "I thought the worst."

"I'm sorry you had to think that way, darlin'," he murmured, stroking the back of her head slowly. He held her close until her body stopped shaking, giving her the time she needed. He didn't speak until she lifted her head from the crook of his neck. "Better?" he asked in a whisper, peering down to see that her eyes were still closed.

"Slightly," she breathed out a response. "I'm relieved that you're home. Is..." she paused, seeming like she was looking for the words to say next, "is it finished?"

"It's finished," he answered in a definitive tone, nodding his head as best he could.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath upon hearing his response, feeling as if the rest of the weight had lifted from her chest. She slowly opened her eyes and looked right into his. "I was going to leave," she started, watching Tommy's brows furrow together in the candlelight, "but I realized that this is part of the life I chose with you. That this is the type of work you carry out, and that I can either fight you on it or support you the best that I could. I also realized that my desire to be with you is so much greater than the worry that your work creates." Her eyes didn't stray from his as she spoke. Watching his hardened blue irises soften as he took in her words was enough to fill her heart to the brim with love.

Tommy took a moment to soak in her words. He moved his hand from behind her head so that he could gently trace the line of her jaw with his thumb. Taking in a deep breath, he knew what he had to do. Searching her eyes for a few seconds longer, he thought of the words he wanted to say.

"I thought I could lose everything and be totally fine with it," he began, clearing his throat in hopes that she wouldn't notice the fact that his voice was breaking. She noticed. "But then you came along...and now I see how wrong I was."

"Tommy," she breathed, taken back by his admission.

"I had nothing to live for up until you, (Y/N)," he admitted, not holding anything back now, "and I promise you now that things will change... that there’ll be no more of these plans. I don't want to have the possibility of an outcome that doesn't include you in it."

(Y/N)'s mind was swirling. It had been a rollercoaster of a day, she still couldn't quite believe the change of events that had happened. But she was so very thankful that things had ended up with Tommy by her side again.

"I love you, Tommy," she whispered, a smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he repeated the phrase, his expression mirroring hers as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Now that he had her again, he knew that he could never let her go. What he'd told Michael earlier in the evening would soon be true: he was going to ask (Y/N) to marry him.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

[secriden]

This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.

It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:

At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:

Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.

In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:

Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?

Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.

I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:

Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.

Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.

Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.

And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.

Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.

Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.

I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.

I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.

And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.

Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.

It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.

So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.

He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.

And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).

So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.

What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.

Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.

When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:

Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.

This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.

I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.

But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.

And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.

Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.

Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.

And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.

[tthoroughfare]

kerosene (part 2) // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the one where she breaks up with cat.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: jackson!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 0.8k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

I AM ENJOYING WRITING THIS SO MUCH i literally don't want them to get together because i just love yearning so much sighhh. i'm already up to the part where things finally happen and i know i'm gonna end up posting those, then going back and writing little extra parts to slot in where they're still friends. anywayyy hope you enjoy <3

something about the conversation makes ellie deliberate for weeks. it was the way you’d spoken about your relationship just not feeling ‘right’, the way she couldn’t really verbalize anything she felt like she should say about cat. she doesn’t know if she’s just overthinking everything. cat’s great. sure, she can’t see herself spending the rest of her life with her, but she makes her happy. they have fun. they have things in common. she feels like she starts to make a mental list of all the reasons they’re together, analyzing the relationship, analyzing her own feelings. she can’t shake the notion that now they’re settled in, the excitement of newness gone, she, too, feels like something isn’t ‘right’.

she hopes it just goes away on its own. but when just over a month passes and nothing has changed, she knows she has to just do it. 

it starts off as a regular day; she meets cat at a spot they frequent, stomach churning at the anticipation. she wants to just rip the band-aid off, but she can’t. the words won’t come out. she flounders around for a while, talking about nothing, knowing full well cat can tell something’s up. finally, when she straight up asks her why she’s being weird, she just comes out and says it. she wants to break up.

of course, she feels awful. cat’s confused, and crying, and asking all kind of questions ellie can’t really express any answers to. she’s upset about it, too. but she just knows in her heart it’s for the better.

it’s cemented when she’s walking back home, realizing she feels a little lighter.

she sees you properly again about a week later, when there’s an event in jackson. she really wasn’t planning on going, not wanting to risk seeing cat (not wanting to have to interact with anyone, pretty much), but dina had convinced her, saying she ‘can’t lock herself away forever.’

she walks in late, party already in full swing, and immediately spots you in the corner chatting to jesse. you haven’t actually spoken in a few weeks, just a greeting when you saw each other out and about, but you seem happier than you were before. she kicks herself mentally when she finds herself hoping it’s not because you’ve found someone new.

she awkwardly hovers around, getting herself a drink and sipping it, people watching. these things were never her idea of a great time.

after about ten minutes, dina appears at her side, visibly tipsy. “what the hell are you doing?” she asks playfully, gesturing at the room full of people. “you’re a single woman now, c’mon. get out there.”

ellie pulls a face, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. “yeah, that's definitely my style.”

dina lets out a short, exasperated sigh, taking ellie by the wrist and tugging her across the room, towards you and jesse. “at least socialize. you’re all… weird. more than usual.”

“oh, shut up,” she retorts lowly, but allows herself to be hauled over to the two of you. her stomach flutters slightly when she gets a proper look at you; you’re a little more done-up than normal, eyes sparkling in the warm light as you greet her.

she doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or something else, but that night is the first time things start to feel explicitly different. on one hand, it’s similar to how it was before — the odd pleasantness dissipated in the air. it feels more like a real friendship again, rather than two people dancing around each other. but on the other, something just feels… new.

she actually ends up having a really good time. she spends the majority of the night with you, drinking more than you both probably should, conversation flowing easily. and when it’s over, she insists on walking you home, despite you saying dina’s staying the night and you weren’t going to be alone anyway.

she just shrugs and smiles.

on the short walk back, dina’s chatting your ear off, thoroughly drunk, but you can’t really focus on anything she’s saying. not just because of the fuzzy feeling in your head, but because of the way you’re so, so aware of ellie’s presence. you’re walking in between them, noticing the way she seems to gravitate towards you, swaying away slightly, then back in. you cross your arms, not wanting to accidentally brush against her, not really understanding why.

she lingers at the door when you get home, dina heading straight in and kicking her shoes off, flopping down on your couch.

“well… thanks. you’re free to go,” you joke after a small pause.

ellie shoots a lopsided smile, leaning against the doorframe. “welcome.” she pauses, like she doesn’t want to go, like she wants to say something. but she doesn’t. she just taps the doorframe and stands up straight. “see you later.”

dina yells out a ‘bye, ellie’, and you wave goodbye as she turns around to leave, trying not to think about the way that smile sent your stomach all funny. “get home safe. update me on the hangover.”

she looks over her shoulder at you as she walks away, chuckling. “will do.”

you go to close the door, watching her stuff her hands into her pockets and make her way down the street for a moment too long.

[gguk-n]

The moment (Zhou Guanyu x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people's world is black and white till they meet their soulmate. Guanyu has found a way to make things work in Formula One with his world in grey scale.

Being a Formula One driver with your world in grey scale was a tough task. Yet, Guanyu navigated these challenges with ease. For someone who had never seen colour, it never bothered him. It was another Sunday on the track. He did wonder how ugly his team colour was when people kept saying that the green was atrocious but to him the hue didn't seem as bad.

Y/N was a vet by profession. She loved animals big and small and had just moved to the city from the country side to be closer to her parents. Working with large animals was always fun but she did want to experience what it was like to treat small cute house pets.

It was the summer break in 2024 and Guanyu was back home with his family and his cute pet cat, da zhang (sweetcorn). Guanyu was lounging around when he saw his cat jump down from the corner of his eyes and leap up to swallow a small piece of shiny metal on the floor. Guanyu wasn't sure how it got there or what it was and what he was supposed to do. He leapt up and tried to pry her mouth open to no avail. He quickly grabbed the carrier and raced to the vet. He wasn't sure what his cat had consumed or how it got there.

At the vet, his regular vet was on leave and the receptionist said she would have someone else come in and look at da zhang soon and to wait in a separate room. Guanyu was pacing the room while muttering something with his cat still in the carrier staring at her dad. Than he heard the door of the waiting room click open. He looked up to start telling the doctor what happened when his eyes felt like they hurt, his head hurt and suddenly the whole world was bright and colourful. He was shocked to say the least. It seemed like so was the vet, but she quickly composed herself and proceeded to pet the cat.

Y/N felt like her world was spinning till it wasn't. She had never seen colour before but everything seemed so perfect now they she could, even though she had never wondered what it would be like before. She was happy to see a distressed pet parent for the first time, making her feel guilty for the glee she felt. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked, trying to calm her racing heart. Guanyu explained the events of an hour before while she nodded along, she was staring and probably drooling, but who wouldn't if their soulmate was this cute. She examined the cat, "I'll run a few tests on her just to be sure. But I think she swallowed whatever it was and it's in her stomach probably. So, I'll be right back" she said and disappeared with da zhang who had become very friendly with her dad's soulmate.

An hour later, the vet, his soulmate, who's name he forget because he was too preoccupied came back with da zhang in tow. "It's all good. She swallowed a coin, it in her tummy. You should give her plenty of water and a lot of fibre so that she can pass it out soon. There's nothing to worry about" she reassured. "Thank you. Dr..." Guanyu trailed off. "Y/N Y/L/N" she smiled, "You already forgot my name" she laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't focus" he replied, was it because of da zhang or Y/N, the world will never know. He took the cat in his arms and started petting her, "You scared me there. But I got to meet your mom" he mumbled making Y/N blush at those words. "So, when do you get of?" he asked now looking at Y/N expectantly. "In a few hours" she replied. "There's a lot we have to catch up on, soulmate" Guanyu said, slowly. "yeah there is, soulmate" she replied.

[novaursa]

The Fire That Binds Us

- Summary: The aftermath of Blood and Cheese. Aegon and you find comfort in each other once more, and later, make plans with your council for attack on Rook's Rest.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. Aegon has two surviving children with a reader. And the reader is bonded with a dragon called Starfyre. These events happen after The Silent Pyre and before Eternal Blaze. If you want to read all parts in chronological order you can find a list of my works on my blog. The list is pinned on the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 3 613

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The echoes of the past haunt the halls of the Red Keep, each stone a silent witness to the horrors that have unfolded within. The shadows of mourning drape over the castle like a shroud, heavier than any nightfall. Your chambers, once filled with the innocent laughter of your sons, are now cloaked in a grief that is too vast, too consuming to ever truly fade.

You sit by the window, staring out at the sky where Starfyre soared a week ago, her radiant scales shimmering like the night sky filled with stars. But even the memory of her brilliance cannot pierce the darkness that has taken root in your heart. The weight of your grief presses down on you, suffocating, as if the air itself has turned to stone. Your body feels numb, cold—almost as if you’ve become as lifeless as the small bodies that were taken from you so cruelly.

The door creaks open, but you don’t turn your head. You already know who it is. Her presence, once comforting, now brings only pain, a reminder of the tragedy that unfolded under her helpless watch.

"My sweet girl," Alicent’s voice trembles as she speaks. There is a rawness to it, a wound that has never healed. "You must eat something. You haven’t touched a morsel in days."

Her words fall flat, meaningless. How can she speak of food when your very soul feels starved, stripped of the light that your sons brought into your life? Aeron and Vaelon—they were your stars, bright and full of life. And now they are gone, snuffed out by the cruelty of war, by the hatred of your own blood.

You shake your head slowly, the movement taking more effort than it should. “I can’t, Mother. I can’t stomach anything. The thought of food…” Your voice breaks, a sob threatening to escape, but you force it down. You’ve cried too much already, and yet the tears never seem to run dry.

Alicent’s face crumples, her own sorrow breaking through the fragile mask of strength she tries to maintain. She reaches out, her hand trembling as she places it on yours, the warmth of her touch only a painful reminder of what you’ve lost. "Please, Y/N, you must take care of yourself—for Daena and Baelon. They need their mother."

Her words, though well-meaning, feel like another weight upon your chest. How can you be a mother to the children you still have when your heart is buried with the ones who are gone? The sight of Daena’s silver hair, so much like Aeron’s, and Baelon’s innocent smile, a mirror of Vaelon’s, only twist the knife deeper into your soul.

You pull your hand away, the motion sharp and cold. “And why haven't you warned anyone, Mother, when they came in to take my sons?” The bitterness in your voice surprises even you, but it’s a poison you cannot hold back. “You were there before me, in the nursery. But you didn't scream or resist, you just surrendered to them as they gagged you.”

Alicent’s breath catches, her eyes wide with shock and guilt, the guilt she has carried since that cursed night. You know it’s unfair, that she did all she could, but the rage within you needs an outlet, needs someone to blame besides the nameless killers who stole your children away.

“I tried,” Alicent whispers, her voice breaking as tears well in her eyes. “I tried to stop them, Y/N, you know it. I held Aeron in my arms with you, I tried to save him, but—” She chokes on her words, unable to continue as she’s overcome by the memory. “I felt his blood on my hands... I can still feel it, and it haunts me every night. Please, forgive me.”

But forgiveness is a luxury you cannot afford. You stand abruptly, the motion causing a wave of dizziness to crash over you, but you refuse to let it pull you down. You walk away from her, your steps unsteady, and collapse onto the edge of the bed that once held your children when they were babes, now cold and empty.

Before you can say anything more, the door opens again, and Aegon steps into the room. His presence is both a balm and a wound, for he too is a reminder of what you’ve lost—of what you both have lost.

“Leave us,” Aegon says to his mother, his voice a low command. Alicent hesitates, her eyes flickering between you and Aegon, but she knows better than to argue. With a final, sorrowful look, she exits the room, leaving you alone with your husband.

Aegon approaches you slowly, as if afraid that you might shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment. And perhaps you will. He kneels before you, his hands gently taking yours, and the warmth of his touch makes you flinch. How can anything be warm in a world so cold?

“Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with his own grief. “My love, my sister… please, look at me.”

Reluctantly, you lift your gaze to meet his. His eyes, so much like yours, are filled with pain, with sorrow, and with a rage that simmers just beneath the surface. The rage that has kept him going, kept him breathing, when all you want to do is stop.

“We will avenge them,” he swears, his grip on your hands tightening, as if he can tether you to life through sheer force of will. “Rhaenyra and Daemon will pay for what they’ve done. I swear it on the blood of our sons.”

His words are meant to comfort, to give you some semblance of hope, but they only deepen the chasm within you. You pull your hands from his grasp, turning your head away. “Vengeance won’t bring them back, Aegon,” you murmur, your voice hollow, devoid of the fire that once burned within you. “No matter how much blood you spill, it won’t return Aeron or Vaelon to us.”

Aegon’s face hardens at your words, the pain in his eyes turning to steel. “But it will make them pay,” he insists, his voice rising with the anger he cannot contain. “It will make them suffer as we suffer.”

You shake your head, tears finally spilling over as your resolve crumbles. “I don’t want more suffering, Aegon. I just want our boys back.” Your voice breaks into a sob, and you collapse into his arms, the weight of your grief finally pulling you under.

Aegon holds you tightly, his own tears falling silently as he presses his face into your hair. “I know,” he whispers, his voice raw. “I know, my love. And I would give anything to bring them back. But all I have left is this rage, this need for vengeance. I can’t let their deaths go unanswered. I can’t.”

You cling to him, the only solid thing in a world that has crumbled around you, and for a moment, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, his vengeance will bring you some peace. But deep down, you know that nothing will ever fill the void left by your sons. Nothing will ever make you whole again.

Aegon’s arms tighten around you as if he could shield you from all the pain in the world, as if his embrace alone could mend the shattered pieces of your heart. His breath is warm against your hair, mingling with your tears as you bury your face against his chest. For a moment, the world outside ceases to exist; there is no war, no death, no sorrow—only the two of you, clinging to each other in the darkness.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so that your eyes meet his. There’s a tenderness in his gaze that you haven’t seen in what feels like an eternity, a softness that cuts through the cold numbness within you. Slowly, as if testing the fragile connection between you, Aegon leans in and brushes his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, almost tentative, as though he’s afraid of breaking you further. But when you respond, when your lips part to welcome him, a hunger sparks between you—a need for closeness, for the comfort that only each other can provide. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if you can fill the void left by your grief with each touch, each breath shared between you.

His hands move to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away the lingering tears as he kisses you again, this time with a fierceness born of longing. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a plea, a silent cry for the connection that has been stolen from you both by the weight of your loss. And you answer it, pouring every ounce of your sorrow, your love, your need into him, hoping that he can feel it, that he understands.

“Aegon,” you whisper against his lips, your voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t let me go. Not tonight.”

“Never,” he breathes, his words a vow as he pulls you closer still, his hands beginning to roam, tracing the curves of your body as if reassuring himself that you are still here, still real.

The need for each other becomes overwhelming, a tidal wave that sweeps you both under, and before you know it, he’s guiding you to lay on the bed. The same bed where you’ve spent countless nights in tears, in mourning, now becomes a sanctuary, a place where you can find solace in each other.

He lays you down gently, as though you’re something precious, fragile. But there’s no haste in his movements, no rush as he leans over you, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You reach up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw, his lips, memorizing the feel of him beneath your hands.

“We’ve been lost for so long,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you, Aegon. I need to feel alive again.”

“And you will,” he promises, his voice rough with emotion as he begins to undress you, each piece of clothing slipping away like the layers of grief that have kept you apart. “I need you too, Y/N. You’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”

There’s something sacred in the way he touches you, in the way he lays you bare before him, his hands reverent as they caress your skin. You respond in kind, your fingers working to undo the ties and clasps of his own garments, your need for him growing with every second, every inch of skin revealed.

When there is nothing left between you, no barriers of cloth or grief, he pauses, his gaze sweeping over you as if committing you to memory. The weight of the world seems to lift in that moment, the sorrow and rage fading into the background as all that matters is this—this moment, this connection.

He leans down to kiss you again, his lips lingering on yours as his body presses against yours, the warmth of him chasing away the cold that has settled in your bones. The kiss deepens, growing more intense, more desperate, and you lose yourself in the sensation, in the feel of him—of Aegon, your husband, your twin, your other half.

As his hands roam your body, exploring the familiar terrain with a tenderness that borders on worship, you feel something shift within you. It’s not just about the physical act, not just about seeking comfort in each other’s touch. It’s about reclaiming something that was taken from you—your love, your bond, your life together.

When he finally joins with you, it’s like coming home. The world falls away, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you are whole. There are no words, only the sounds of your shared breaths, the gasps and sighs that fill the room as you move together, as you find solace in each other’s arms.

But as you reach the peak of your passion, as the world seems to blur around the edges, you find your voice again, whispering his name like a prayer, like a promise. “Aegon… we will survive this. We have to.”

“We will,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion, with the weight of the love and the grief you share. “As long as we have each other, we will.”

The words are a vow, a promise that despite everything, despite the darkness that surrounds you, you will endure.

And as the night fades into dawn, as the first light of morning filters through the curtains, you find a fragile peace in each other’s arms, a brief respite from the pain that has become your constant companion. It’s not a cure, it’s not an end to your sorrow, but it’s enough—enough to remind you that you are still alive, that you still have each other.

And that, for now, is enough.

The days following your shared moment with Aegon are a blur of whispered plans and unspoken grief, the fragile peace you found together now threatened by the storm brewing within the walls of the Red Keep. The small council meeting looms ahead, a gathering of minds meant to steer the course of the war, but you can already feel the tension crackling in the air like a brewing tempest.

As you and Aegon make your way to the council chambers, his hand rests lightly on the small of your back, a silent reassurance that you’re in this together. But you know him too well—there’s a fire in his eyes that betrays his intentions, a need for action that cannot be quelled by mere words.

The council chamber is already filled when you arrive, the lords and advisors gathered around the table, their faces set in various shades of concern and determination. Lord Tayland is whispering something to Grand Maester Orwyle, while Lord Jasper taps his fingers impatiently on the table. Ser Criston Cole stands by the door, his gaze sharp as he watches you and Aegon enter. Prince Aemond, your younger brother, is already seated, his one good eye burning with intensity. Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, occupies his usual place, his expression unreadable as always, but you sense the unease lurking beneath his composed exterior.

“Let us begin,” Aegon announces, his voice carrying the weight of command as he takes his seat at the head of the table. You settle beside him, your presence more than ceremonial—Aegon has insisted that you be involved in these meetings, that your counsel is valued, even if the others in the room might silently question your place here.

Aegon’s gaze sweeps over the assembled lords, his eyes narrowing as they settle on his grandfather, Otto. “We can no longer wait for whispers and rumors to guide our actions,” he declares, the impatience in his tone unmistakable. “The time has come to strike at Dragonstone directly, with our dragons. Sunfyre, Vhagar, and Starfyre will be more than enough to break Rhaenyra’s hold on the island and crush her forces before they have a chance to regroup.”

The room tenses, all eyes turning to Otto. The older man doesn’t flinch, though the slight tightening of his lips betrays his discomfort. “Your Grace,” he begins carefully, “we must be cautious. We still await word from the Free Cities and Lord Dalton Greyjoy. The alliance we are proposing is crucial. Without their fleets, we cannot break the blockade of the Gullet, and we risk being isolated if we act too rashly.”

Aegon’s expression darkens, his hand curling into a fist on the table. “We cannot afford to wait any longer, Otto. Every day we delay gives Rhaenyra and Daemon more time to gather their forces, to prepare for an attack of their own. The longer we sit idle, the weaker we appear. They will see it as a sign of our hesitation, of our weakness.”

Prince Aemond leans forward, his voice cold and sharp as steel. “The time for caution has passed. We need to strike now, decisively. Dragonstone is vulnerable, and with Vhagar and Sunfyre, we can take it within days. Let Rhaenyra know that her stronghold is not as secure as she thinks.”

Otto’s expression hardens, his voice taking on an edge as he replies, “And what of the Gullet? What of the supplies and reinforcements that will be needed once we engage Rhaenyra’s forces in earnest? Without the ships, without the support of our potential allies, we may find ourselves trapped in our own capital, besieged on all sides.”

Aegon slams his hand on the table, the sound echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap. “Enough! We cannot continue to play this game of waiting. Rhaenyra has already shown her hand—she murdered my sons, our heirs! And you ask me to sit here and wait for a letter that may never come?”

The room falls silent, the weight of Aegon’s grief and rage pressing down on everyone present. You can feel his fury radiating off him in waves, a storm that is barely contained.

Otto meets Aegon’s gaze, his eyes hard. “Your Grace, my only concern is for the stability of the realm. Rhaenyra is a threat, yes, but if we lose the support of our allies, if we spread ourselves too thin—”

“No more excuses, Otto,” Aegon cuts him off, his voice icy. “You speak of stability, yet all your cautious plans have brought us nothing but delay and indecision. I need a Hand who will act, not one who will hesitate at every turn.”

Otto’s eyes widen slightly, realizing what’s coming, but before he can speak, Aegon rises from his seat, his decision made. “You are relieved of your duties as Hand of the King. Ser Criston Cole will take your place.”

The shock ripples through the room, though no one dares to speak. Otto stands slowly, the lines of his face deepening with the weight of his dismissal. “As you command, Your Grace,” he says, his voice strained but steady. He turns to leave the chamber, his exit a silent acknowledgment of the power shift that has just occurred.

As the door closes behind him, Aegon turns back to the council, his gaze hard. “We march on Duskendale. Sunfyre, Vhagar, and Ser Criston will lead the assault. We will cut off Dragonstone from the mainland, and then we will take Rook’s Rest. I will not allow Rhaenyra another victory.”

Aemond nods in agreement, his expression grim. “You must remain in the capital for now, brother. Let us secure Duskendale first, and then you can join me at Rook’s Rest. We need to draw her out, force her hand. Rhaenyra will retaliate, and when she does, we will be ready.”

You listen to their words, the cold logic of their strategy, but all you can think of is the danger they are about to face. The thought of Aegon flying into battle, of him facing Rhaenyra’s dragons alone, sends a chill through your blood.

“I’m coming with you,” you say suddenly, your voice breaking through the tension in the room. “Starfyre and I will be at your side.”

Aegon turns to you, his expression softening for a moment, but there’s a firmness in his eyes that you recognize all too well. “No, Y/N,” he says quietly but firmly. “You must stay here, in the capital. Daena and Baelon need you. I need you to watch over them, to protect them.”

Your heart clenches at his words, but the resolve within you burns stronger. “And who will protect you, Aegon? Who will keep you safe when the battle begins?”

“Sunfyre,” he answers, stepping closer to you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I cannot risk losing you, Y/N. You are my heart, my strength. Stay here, where it’s safe.”

You want to argue, to fight him on this, but the look in his eyes, the plea behind his command, makes you pause. He’s not just ordering you—he’s begging you, in his own way, to stay, to keep the last remnants of your family safe.

But even as you nod, your mind is already made up. You will not let him face this alone. You will follow him, no matter the cost, and protect him with everything you have left. The silence between you is thick with unspoken words, the council around you forgotten as you lock eyes with Aegon.

“I understand,” you say finally, your voice soft, but there’s a fire in your heart that refuses to be extinguished. “I’ll stay.”

But the promise you make to yourself is unbreakable. You will not remain in the capital while your husband flies into danger. When the time comes, Starfyre will fly with Sunfyre, and you will be at Aegon’s side, no matter what.

The meeting concludes with final orders and plans, but you barely hear them. Your mind is already racing, thinking of the preparations you’ll need to make in secret, the steps you’ll take to ensure that when Aegon leaves, you will not be far behind.

As the council disperses, Aegon takes your hand, guiding you out of the chamber. He thinks you’ve agreed, that you’ll stay safe in the capital with your children. But he doesn’t know the resolve that has taken root in your heart.

You will protect him, even if it means defying his command. Even if it means risking everything.

As you walk together back to your chambers, the weight of your decision settles over you, but there’s no turning back. You’ve already lost too much. You will not lose Aegon too.

[justevelynnnn]

I’ll always love you.

Pairing: Logan howlett x reader

Summary: Logan has a nightmare and hurts you in his sleep. This is a short story of that and the aftermath.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of blood, Logan stabbed you in your sleep, Profanity, Cigar smoking, mention of the scene where wolverine gets his adamantium skeleton. (Written with fem!reader in mind but no she/her pronouns are used or feminine features are mentioned)

A/N: this started off as a drabble but tbh it got a bit longer than i expected so 😭 but anyway, i love this plot so of coursee, my turn!

He was in the tank again.

It was the same nightmare every other week. Or, one of them. But this was the worst one of them all.

Suffocating. Confused. Scared?

He felt it all again.

He could never, ever describe what metal covering your skeleton feels like but it’s a horrible, disgusting feeling.

As he rose and roared angrily from the water, tubes fell out his body. He gets hit with a bullet to the head and he fiercely turns to the source, growling animalistically. There are more gun shots as he jumped out, screaming. Oh, and of course…Fucking Stryker.

Stryker. Stryker. Stryker.

Of course, the nightmare version of this event is more intense feeling. His heart was racing. His mind. His feet. Adrenaline is pumping through his veins. Everything is on fire.

Then suddenly, he’s in a dark room.

Still yelling and thrashing, he doesn’t stop until he comes to finally seconds later. Oh, it was a nightmare. Not real. Though, the screams still echo in his head.

And then he hears a soft, “Logan….”

He looks down.

You’re laying there, under him. There are tears in your eyes as you held his…wrists with..his claws…in…your….sides..

His heart drops. Blood runs cold. He feels like he’s gonna be sick.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck-

He mouths, “No…no no no…”

“Logan, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re…” A pained groan from you interrupted yourself. “…okay. I’m here.”

He frantically pulls his claws out and sits there, looking at you in pure horror. Heart pounding still as guilt washed over him. Consuming his entire soul.

Luckily, for the both of you, you also had a healing factor..just not as good as his…it took twice as long for you to heal.

But you were prepared for this moment anyways. You knew one day…he’d wake up like this. That you’d wake up like this. You practiced what you would say and do. Remain calm and ground him. Remind him he’s okay and that you two are far from any enemies.

Logan looked at the blood covering his hands once he unsheathed his claws. Looked at you once more and then back at his own hands.

“I’m already healing, Logan. It’s gonna be okay. It was an accident.” You sit up in bed, even though it was horribly painful still, and rub his shoulders trying to relax him.

“..i…i..hurt you.” He softly said looking into your eyes.

“It was an accident.”

“I hurt you. I fucking hurt you.”

“You didn’t mean to, Lo.”

He bit his lip, holding back a sob. Still, a tear escaped his eye.

You hugged him solfty, not minding the sweat covering his skin and clothes, and rubbed his back.

“I’m sorry…i’m sorry baby i-“

You hear him finally break down a bit as his voice hitched. You rub his back more telling him it’s okay. You’re okay.

“I know, you’d never do it on purpose Logan…i forgive you. Look, I’m already halfway healed…it won’t even scar..” You pull back and gently held his face and kiss his forehead.

He sighed.

“Wanna stay up with me? Wash the sheets and sit outside a bit?” You smiled.

He nods. “I’m so sorry.”

You don’t respond as you get out of bed, pain on your sides quickly fading. You pull him with you and you both start pulling off the blood soaked sheets quietly.

Once everything is in the washer you sit with him on the couch in the dark, cuddled next to him as he smoked a cigar to calm his nerves.

“That was my worst nightmare.” He said softly as he took a long drag.

“I know..but i know you didnt mean too. You’ve been through a lot it was bound to happen at some point… and plus, i’m better now..”

“I…I dunno why you put up with me.”

“Because I love you. ‘Cause i know deep down you have a good soul.”

He huffed at this and smiled as he said, “Love, huh?”

“Yes, love. All of it. Your scars, your personality, just…you.”

Silence filled the room once more. He put the cigar out and laid it on the table then looked away.

“I’m just..scared. Of losing you. Are you sure? About us? This? I don’t want to hurt you anymore…i-“

“Logan, look at me.”

He turned to face you. Face unreadable as usual but you knew he felt worry.

“I’ll never leave you. And i’m so sure about us. 100%. You don’t have to be scared of anything considering that anymore. Okay? I’ll always love you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment but then he closed the distance. Hugging you tightly. A soft thank you came from him moments later.

That night you two fell asleep on the couch in each others arms.

[adventuringblind]

Biology Sucks

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Reader has really bad periods and is embarrassed about it. Oscar just wants to help.

Warnings: Really bad periods and everything that comes with them

Notes: To the requester, I feel you on the bad period thing. I hope this brings you the comfort you need to get through your next one!

Side Note: My inbox is open if you wanna come chat with me :)

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It hurts. A familiar hurt, unfortunately, and she's not sure whether that's better or worse yet. Of all the things that could've happened on her date, it had to be this.

She excuses herself from the table. Oscar gives her a concerned look, but she waves it off. "Just need to freshen up." Oscar nods, but he doesn't look convinced.

Eight months, and he already knows how to read her like a book.

She ends up leaving her date early because she already knows how this ends. It'll look like she's gone to war and got stabbed lower than necessary. It also currently feels that way, and she's ready to throw up her guts if that's what it takes to make it stop.

Oscar texts her. Then he calls her. Eventually deciding she probably has fallen asleep if she wasn't feeling well and decides to do something for her in the morning.

The same event had happened last month, and she'd avoided him for the entire week. The brief topic of periods came up because he asked if that was it, and she'd told him they were considerably bad.

The benefit of having sisters is that he at least knows the basics here. He throws on some shoes in the early hours of the morning and heads out the door to the convenience store.

Oscar makes a guess from the information he's gleaned on what kinds of snacks she would like. He also throws a text to his mum to double-check because lord knows if he messes this up, she'll come for his head.

It's just past ten when he arrives at her flat and unlocks the door with the spare key. He questions if this could be considered breaking and entering since he technically didn't know the spare key would be hidden inside the bottom of a fake plant. Things to worry about later, he supposes.

He finds her sprawled out of the bed, a bottle of painkillers open on the side table. He drops his own bags on the grounds softly so he doesn't wake her.

Especially not when she's shivering in her sleep and he can see the sticky red coating the sheets. He determines to let her sleep until he has everything ready to clean her up. There is no point in letting her sit in it while awake for no reason.

He remembers specifically making trips to the store with his mum for bed sheets when his sisters had similar problems. He just wishes she felt comfortable telling him about it. Heaven help is was some bastard making her feel like this is gross and not some natural part of life.

He admits openly to punching one person in his lifetime. The boy who was picking on his sister for bleeding through her shorts while he was home for Christmas one year. He made the boys nose bleed and called him gross for it. Oscar tries not to think about what he would do now that he's bulked up.

He starts the bath, finds her extra clothes, including his own hoodie, and attempts to locate her spare sheets. He feels bad going through all her cupboards, but he doesn't want to wake her up to ask.

When everything is all set up, he sets himself down gently beside and caresses the side of her face until she wakes.

Initially, there is a look of terror on her face until she realizes it's just Oscar and not an intruder. "How'd you get in?"

"Your spare key wasn't hard to find."

She takes a breath to settle her heart. That's when she feels what's underneath her... and beside her... all around her, really. "I-" the tears are pathetic.

"It's okay, really! My sister's had some bad ones as did my mum. Can I touch you?"

The pit in her stomach ends up settling in confusion. She tilts her head. "You're not, like, disgusted?"

"It's biology, isn't it? Natural? I see no reason to be disgusted." It the certainty of which he says it that make the tears start.

Oscar coos at her, waiting until she's calmed down to set about getting her cleaned up. "I ran you a bath already. I figured you'd want it warm and bubbly."

She cries again. Not because she's upset - far from it - but nobody has ever done this for her. "I'm not sure what I did to deserve this."

"To be fair, I don't think you ask to bleed every month."

While she's in the bath, Oscar strips the bed down and recreates it how he thinks it should go. The key word here is thinks. His eye for aesthetics isn't the best, but he makes it work regardless.

Soon, she's out of the bath and in his hoodie. "Feeling any better?"

"A bit... thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, I'm not the best in the kitchen, so this might actually kill you instead."

She hesitate when he sits down on the couch and pats the spot beside him. "Aren't you worried I might bleed on you?"

"As far as I'm concerned, you could bleed on all my clothes and I'd happily purchase new ones if it means you'll come cuddle with me."

She relents and curls up in Oscar's lap. He turns on a movie and they both end up falling asleep to it.

Easy to say it's the best she's ever slept on her period. And when she wakes up to Oscar purchasing a new pair of sweats, he smiles at her. "I figure if it will help you stress less, I will get some extra clothes just in case." No hints of judgment or annoyance. Just Oscar trying to help.

Yeah, maybe periods don't have to be so miserable while he's around.